Chapter 7 - THE ACCOUNTS
Victor watched the video three times.
Elena explained everything quickly.
Money moved through vendors that didn’t exist.
Contracts approved through forged signatures.
Millions missing over six years.
Grant had access.
Grant had motive.
Then Elena leaned closer to the camera.
“I don’t know if he’d hurt me. I want to believe he wouldn’t. He’s family.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I’m done confusing family with safety.”
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Clara finally asked, “Did the police know?”
“No.”
Victor stared at the black screen.
“They ruled the crash accidental.”
“Was it?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
The office door opened.
Mrs. Whitaker stood there.
“Mr. Hale…”
Her face was strained.
“There’s someone here.”
“Who?”
“Police.”
Two detectives entered five minutes later.
Not about Elena.
About Clara.
Detective Ruiz placed a small plastic evidence bag on the desk.
Inside was a diamond bracelet.
Victor frowned.
“What is that?”
“Mrs. Elena Hale’s bracelet.”
Clara looked between them.
“So?”
“It was reported missing after her death.”
Ruiz looked at Clara.
“It was found in your apartment.”
The room tilted.
“What?”
Victor stood.
“That’s impossible.”
“Your security manager searched staff quarters after an anonymous report.”
Clara’s anger exploded.
“Your security manager went through my apartment?”
Ruiz raised a hand.
“Ms. Bennett—”
“I’ve been here three days!”
“That’s what makes this unusual.”
Victor turned toward the detective.
“She didn’t steal it.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.”
Clara looked at him.
Victor didn’t hesitate.
“She had no access to Elena’s belongings.”
Ruiz’s partner opened a notebook.
“Unless one of the children gave it to her.”
The office went silent.
Clara immediately understood.
Someone wanted the police looking at her.
Someone wanted her gone.
Grant.
But suspicion was not evidence.
Ruiz asked, “Would you come to the station and answer some questions?”
Victor said, “She needs an attorney.”
Clara snapped, “I can speak for myself.”
He looked at her.
“This is not the time to prove independence.”
“And I’m not becoming another poor woman who looks guilty because a rich man bought her lawyer.”
His eyes flashed.
“This isn’t charity.”
“Everything with you becomes control.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No, finding a dead woman’s jewelry planted in my apartment isn’t fair!”
Ruiz cleared his throat.
“Can we focus?”
Clara grabbed her bag.
“I’ll answer questions.”
As she walked toward the door, four small bodies blocked it.
Mason stood in front.
“You can’t take her.”
Ruiz crouched.
“We just need to talk.”
“You’re lying,” Cole said.
“Cole,” Victor warned.
Ryder stepped forward.
“She didn’t steal that bracelet.”
Ruiz looked at him.
“How do you know?”
Ryder glanced at Mason.
Mason’s face tightened.
Clara knew that look.
They were hiding something.
“Mason.”
He shook his head.
“Mason.”
Finally, he muttered, “We have cameras.”
Victor frowned.
“You what?”
“Cameras.”
“Where?”
The boys all pointed upstairs.
Ten minutes later, Victor, Clara, and two detectives stood inside what Ryder proudly called “The Command Center.”
It was a closet.
Three old tablets were wired into a homemade security system.
Apparently, the boys had hidden miniature cameras throughout the house to spy on nannies.
Clara should have been furious.
Instead, she wanted to hug them.
Ryder opened footage from Clara’s apartment hallway.
2:13 a.m.
A figure entered.
Black hoodie.
Gloves.
The person left four minutes later.
Ruiz leaned closer.
“Can you enlarge that?”
Ryder did.
As the figure passed beneath an exterior light, something flashed on his wrist.
A silver watch.
Victor stared.
Clara did too.
She had seen that watch before.
That morning at breakfast.
On Grant Hale.
Then the front gate alarm screamed.
May you like
Mrs. Whitaker’s voice came over the intercom.
“Mr. Hale! Your brother just left with Theo!”
