Chapter 4 - The Tracker
Nicole did not drive home.
She drove to a crowded shopping center, parked beneath a security camera and called Gregory from the prepaid phone.
He answered on the third ring.
“Who is this?”
“Me.”
A pause.
“Where’s your phone?”
“Battery died.”
“Then why are you calling from another number?”
Nicole stared through the windshield.
“Because I needed to ask you something before I came home.”
Another pause.
“What?”
“Why did you call Paul Renner before anyone told us Raymond was dead?”
Silence.
It lasted only two seconds.
But two seconds was enough.
“Who told you that?”
“Answer me.”
“I called the county office because security notified me there had been a fire at one of our properties.”
“At eleven forty-three?”
“Yes.”
“The sheriff called us after midnight.”
“I knew there was a fatality before I knew it was Raymond.”
“Then why call the medical examiner instead of police?”
“Because Paul and I serve on the hospital foundation board.”
Nicole had forgotten that.
Or maybe Gregory was counting on her forgetting.
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because there’s a dead man in a casket who may not be my brother.”
Gregory’s voice cooled.
“Emma has gotten inside your head.”
“No. The missing scar did.”
“Funeral reconstruction can cover scars.”
“Then you won’t mind an examination.”
“I mind turning your brother’s funeral into a spectacle.”
Nicole watched people walking from stores carrying coffee and shopping bags.
Normal people.
Normal lives.
“Did you track my car this morning?”
Gregory did not answer.
“Gregory?”
“It’s a family safety system.”
“You followed me.”
“I checked where the car was.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re lying to me.”
Nicole hung up.
She sat motionless for several minutes.
Then she crawled beneath the dashboard and found the tracking unit.
She could not remove it without tools.
Instead she drove to Raymond’s longtime attorney.
Margaret Sloan was seventy-two, sharp-eyed and unimpressed by wealth.
When Nicole arrived without an appointment, Margaret took one look at her and locked the office door.
“What happened?”
Nicole told her almost everything.
Not Raymond’s location.
Not the greenhouse.
But enough.
Margaret listened without interruption.
When Nicole finished, the older woman removed her glasses.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want the truth.”
“All right.”
“Is Raymond alive?”
Nicole stared at her.
Margaret sighed.
“That answers it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Nicole began pacing.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“The first thing you do is stop improvising.”
“I’m trying to protect my daughter.”
“Then stop lying in ways that put you in legal jeopardy.”
Nicole sat.
Margaret continued.
“If Raymond is alive and knowingly allowing legal proceedings based on his death to move forward, that creates problems.”
“What kind?”
“Estate administration. Insurance. Corporate governance. Potential false statements. Obstruction, depending on what he knows and what he has done.”
“He hasn’t taken money.”
“That helps. It does not make this sensible.”
Margaret stood and opened a locked cabinet.
She removed a thick trust document.
“Your father created the Archer Family Trust twelve years ago. Raymond became controlling trustee after your father died.”
“I know.”
“You know the simplified version.”
She opened to a tabbed section.
“If Raymond dies or becomes incapacitated, control does not immediately pass to you.”
Nicole frowned.
“I was told it did.”
“After thirty days.”
“Why?”
“Your father was paranoid about hostile takeovers and family disputes. He inserted a review period.”
Margaret pointed to a paragraph.
“During those thirty days, major transfers, property sales and new debt require approval from the independent trustee.”
“Who is that?”
“Me.”
Nicole stared at her.
Gregory had never mentioned it.
“Does Gregory know?”
“He should. He reviewed these documents eight years ago.”
A chill moved through her.
“What happens after thirty days?”
“You become controlling trustee.”
“And because I’m his wife…”
“Gregory may believe he can influence you.”
Nicole looked down at the document.
“How many days are left?”
“Twenty-six.”
Twenty-six days until Gregory could gain indirect control over assets worth more than forty million dollars.
“Margaret.”
“Yes?”
“I need you to freeze everything.”
“I already did.”
Nicole looked up.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
Margaret’s expression darkened.
“Because Gregory called me at seven twelve and asked whether there was any legal way to waive the thirty-day waiting period.”
Nicole felt sick.
Before she could respond, Margaret’s receptionist knocked.
“There’s someone here for Mrs. Hart.”
“Who?”
The receptionist handed over a business card.
Nicole recognized the name.
Detective Aaron Bell.
Westbridge Major Crimes Unit.
Margaret read the card.
May you like
Then she looked at Nicole.
“Whatever game your brother is playing,” she said quietly, “the police just joined it.”
