Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN MY WIFE TRUSTED FIRST
I stared at the photograph until the bookstore around me seemed to disappear.
Sarah stood in a hospital hallway wearing jeans and a blue cardigan.
Jessica stood beside her, younger, with shoulder-length dark hair and black-framed glasses.
They weren't strangers.
They looked familiar with each other.
Comfortable.
Sarah's hand rested on Jessica's shoulder.
“Who was she?” I asked.
Laura glanced toward the bookstore entrance.
“A financial investigator.”
I almost laughed.
“Jessica?”
“Yes.”
“She told me she worked in event planning.”
“She did later. Before that, she helped our family investigate what happened to Dad's company.”
I looked down at the photograph.
Sarah's father, William Holloway, had died when Emily was two.
A stroke.
That was what everyone had told me.
He'd been seventy-one, stubborn, and determined to remain involved in the business he'd built.
Sarah had grieved deeply.
But she hadn't seemed suspicious.
“Why would she investigate the company?”
Laura folded her arms.
“Because Dad believed money was disappearing from a trust he'd established for his grandchildren.”
“Emily.”
“And any other grandchildren we might have had.”
Laura swallowed.
“There was supposed to be enough money to support scholarships, family health expenses, and the company's employee pension obligations.”
I frowned.
“Pension obligations?”
“Dad set aside assets because he didn't trust the new investors. He wanted his employees protected.”
The room seemed colder.
“Who were the investors?”
Laura looked at me.
“Robert Caldwell's father was one of them.”
I leaned against the counter.
Robert's connection went back years.
Not eighteen months.
Not even four.
Laura opened a drawer and took out another photograph.
This one showed William Holloway shaking hands with a younger Robert outside the manufacturing plant.
“What happened?”
“William discovered irregular transfers. Sarah thought someone was moving money between the family trust and businesses controlled by Caldwell interests.”
“And Jessica?”
“She helped collect records.”
“Then why did she marry her way into my life?”
Laura's eyes glistened.
“Because she switched sides.”
I shook my head.
“Why?”
“I don't know exactly. But Sarah found out.”
I looked at her.
“And you kept that from me?”
Laura didn't defend herself.
“I was wrong.”
The admission surprised me.
For years, our conversations had ended with blame.
Now she looked exhausted.
“After Sarah died, I tried to tell you something was wrong with the accident,” she said.
“You told me I should sue everyone involved.”
“Because I was angry.”
“You said I hadn't protected her.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“I said terrible things to a man who'd just lost his wife. I was hurting, and I made you pay for it.”
I looked away.
I remembered that argument outside the funeral home.
Emily asleep against my shoulder.
Laura crying beside Sarah's photograph.
Both of us too broken to be kind.
“Why didn't you tell me about Jessica when we started dating?”
Laura wiped her cheeks.
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Christmas Eve, last year.”
I remembered.
Laura had called.
Jessica answered my phone while I was fixing a broken kitchen faucet.
Later Jessica told me Laura had only wanted to argue about Sarah's belongings.
I hadn't called back.
Shame rose in my throat.
Laura continued.
“Then Jessica came here and told me you knew everything. She said you'd agreed to work with her quietly to protect Emily.”
“That's a lie.”
“I know that now.”
“Why believe her?”
Laura opened the brown envelope.
Inside were copies of emails.
Sarah's old messages.
The name Jessica Hale appeared repeatedly.
Some were routine.
Requests for records.
Questions about corporate ownership.
Then one message, sent three days before Sarah's accident, made my breath catch.
Jessica, if you're telling me the truth, meet me at the plant before Friday. I won't let Robert turn Emily's future into another business transaction.
I read it twice.
“Sarah knew Robert?”
Laura nodded.
“She knew what he was trying to do.”
“Did she tell you?”
“Not everything.”
“Why not?”
“Because she was trying to protect Dad's reputation. She believed the company could survive if they corrected the theft before it became public.”
I looked at Sarah's handwriting again.
Always trying to save people.
Employees.
Family.
Even men who didn't deserve it.
“Where's Arthur Bell?” I asked.
Laura hesitated.
“Arthur lives outside Dayton.”
“Patricia said he's difficult to reach.”
“Because he doesn't trust anyone.”
“Why?”
Laura looked down.
“He thinks someone inside the family helped Caldwell.”
“Who?”
She met my eyes.
“Me.”
The accusation stunned me.
Laura quickly shook her head.
“I never stole anything. But I did sign a document Sarah asked me not to sign.”
“What document?”
“A waiver allowing Robert temporary access to certain trust records.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because Dad was in the hospital. Robert said he needed it to pay the company's pension contributions.”
She pressed a hand against her mouth.
“I thought I was helping.”
“Did Sarah know?”
“Yes. She was furious.”
Laura opened a drawer and pulled out a small gold bracelet.
It had tiny blue stones.
I recognized it.
Sarah had worn it at our wedding.
“Sarah gave this to me the morning she died.”
I looked at the bracelet.
“Why?”
“She said she was afraid someone would try to make her disappear from the company records.”
My chest tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“She'd discovered an ownership agreement bearing her signature that she'd never signed.”
I stared at her.
“Forgery?”
“Possibly.”
Laura turned the bracelet over.
There was a tiny screw beneath the clasp.
“Sarah told me not to open this unless Arthur asked for it.”
I frowned.
“You waited four years?”
“I was afraid. Then Arthur stopped answering me. And after Jessica showed up, I didn't know whom to trust.”
Laura found a tiny screwdriver behind the counter.
She loosened the clasp.
Inside was a narrow compartment containing a rolled strip of photographic film.
We held it beneath a lamp.
There were several tiny images.
Signatures.
Numbers.
Dates.
And one photograph of what looked like a handwritten contract.
“I don't have the equipment to read this,” Laura said.
“Patricia will know someone.”
Laura nodded.
Then she reached for my hand.
“Daniel, there's something else.”
I looked at her.
“Jessica wasn't supposed to be your bride.”
I felt my stomach sink.
“What?”
Laura's voice trembled.
“She was supposed to contact you after Sarah died and tell you the truth.”
I stared at her.
“Then why didn't she?”
“Because Robert found out Sarah had hidden copies of the real agreement.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
Laura swallowed.
“Because the agreement required two signatures to release control of Emily's inheritance.”
“Whose?”
She looked directly at me.
“Yours.”
I shook my head.
“And?”
Laura's eyes filled with tears.
“Sarah's.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
“That doesn't make sense,” I finally said. “Sarah's dead.”
Laura nodded slowly.
“Which is why Robert needed you to believe the replacement agreement was legitimate.”
She pointed at the film.
“And why Jessica needed you to marry her.”
I stared at the tiny images.
Then I noticed something.
On one frame, beside Sarah's signature, was another name.
Not Robert Caldwell.
Not Jessica Hale.
Daniel Mercer.
My own name.
May you like
And beneath it was a date.
A date three months after Sarah's funeral.
