Chapter 5 - Uncle Marcus Comes Home
Marcus appeared the next morning carrying coffee and concern.
Claire agreed to meet him only because Detective Ruiz arranged for an unmarked police vehicle to remain nearby.
Marcus did not know that.
He entered the living room and embraced Claire tightly.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean tired.”
“I know.”
He crouched when Sophie entered.
“Hey, peanut.”
Sophie stopped.
Before yesterday she would have run to him.
Now she moved behind Claire.
Marcus’s smile faltered.
“That’s okay,” he said gently. “Uncle Marcus is just happy you’re safe.”
Safe.
The word bothered Claire.
“How did you hear what happened?”
Marcus stood.
“Nolan’s lawyer called the company.”
“Why?”
“He’s an executive.”
“He’s been suspended?”
Marcus hesitated.
“We’re discussing it.”
“Discussing it?”
“Claire, an arrest isn’t a conviction.”
The sentence sounded reasonable.
Too reasonable.
She walked into the kitchen.
Marcus followed.
Sophie stayed with the babysitter Claire had hired that morning.
The pliers were gone, sealed in police evidence.
But Claire still saw them.
Marcus stopped beside the island.
His eyes moved to the empty section of counter.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “I can’t believe he put that tool there.”
Claire looked at him.
“What tool?”
Marcus froze.
“The... pliers.”
“How did you know they were pliers?”
“News.”
“The news said a household tool.”
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“Mercer told me.”
“Nolan’s lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Nolan’s lawyer describe evidence to you?”
“Because I asked what happened.”
Claire studied her brother.
Marcus had their father’s dark hair, though gray now streaked the sides. Richard had always said Marcus could charm a man while stealing his chair.
Claire used to think it was affectionate teasing.
Now she wondered.
“Do you know BRC Capital Partners?”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“You asked me that last night.”
“You said no.”
“I don’t.”
Claire placed a copy of the Briar Ridge proposal on the island.
Marcus looked down.
His expression barely moved.
But he did not ask what it was.
Claire noticed.
“You’ve seen this.”
“No.”
“Then read it.”
He picked it up.
His eyes traveled down the page.
When he reached the initials, he sighed.
“This isn’t what you think.”
“What do I think?”
“That Nolan and I were stealing land.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
Marcus put the paper down.
“BRC was a potential acquisition structure.”
“You told me you’d never heard of it.”
“I panicked.”
“Why?”
“Because my sister had just accused her husband of terrifying his daughter, and then started asking about a confidential business vehicle.”
“Who owns BRC?”
“The ownership hasn’t been finalized.”
Claire almost laughed.
“Companies have owners, Marcus.”
“It was set up by outside counsel.”
“Which counsel?”
“I’d have to check.”
“You’re chairman.”
“And there are hundreds of legal entities connected to Hale Residential.”
“How much is Briar Ridge worth?”
Marcus looked toward the windows.
“Depends on zoning.”
“The proposal says eleven and a half million.”
“That was preliminary.”
“How much after zoning?”
He did not answer.
Claire stepped closer.
“How much?”
“Maybe thirty.”
The hesitation told her the number was higher.
“Forty?”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“Possibly.”
“And you were going to sell it for eleven?”
“No sale occurred.”
“Because you needed my approval.”
“Claire—”
“And Sophie’s trust.”
His eyes changed.
There it was.
Recognition.
“You knew about Sophie’s shares.”
“Of course.”
“I didn’t.”
“That isn’t my fault.”
“No. Nolan made sure I didn’t know. Did you help him?”
Marcus moved away from the island.
“You’re in shock. You’re connecting things that may not be connected.”
“That sounds exactly like Nolan.”
“Don’t compare me to him.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I am.”
Claire took out her phone.
She opened the photograph of the forged trust authorization.
Marcus stopped talking.
“That’s Beth Warren’s forged signature,” Claire said.
His face paled.
“Where did you get this?”
“Nolan’s office.”
“You shouldn’t be going through—”
“My own house?”
“That may be company material.”
“My name is on it.”
Marcus reached for the phone.
Claire pulled it back.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to see it.”
“You already have.”
“Claire, this could be incredibly serious.”
“It is.”
“I mean legally.”
“For whom?”
Marcus stared at her.
Claire suddenly remembered being thirteen years old and catching Marcus reading her diary.
When she confronted him, he had convinced their mother Claire had left it open.
She had ended up apologizing.
Same eyes.
Same silence.
Same calculation.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Give me forty-eight hours.”
“For what?”
“To figure out what Nolan did.”
“What Nolan did?”
“Yes.”
“Not what you did?”
He flinched.
Then Sophie entered the kitchen holding a plastic horse.
Marcus turned.
The change in him was immediate.
Warm smile.
Soft voice.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Sophie stared at him.
Then at Claire.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Uncle Marcus was with Daddy at the red door.”
Marcus’s smile vanished.
Claire felt the room narrow around them.
“What red door?” she asked.
May you like
Sophie pointed at Marcus.
“He told Daddy I wasn’t supposed to see.”
