Chapter 6
That night, Brooke slept in Maya’s room.
They had not done that in years.
I stayed up at the kitchen table with bank statements, the hospital papers, and the letter Maren had left.
Every number looked like a warning.
The first transfer had taken place eleven months earlier.
Sixteen thousand dollars.
Then five thousand.
Then twelve.
The transfers were divided into amounts small enough to seem like ordinary account activity.
One went to the car dealer.
Two went to Claire’s personal account.
Several went to Hawthorne House.
One went to a company called Vale Property Services.
I called the bank the next morning.
A fraud investigator named Tessa answered.
“Mr. Ellis, I’m the person who contacted Ms. Vale.”
“Why?”
“I recognized your wife’s name on the old account. I knew there was a discrepancy between the transfer forms and the authority on file.”
“What did you see?”
“Changes to the linked account information. The change request used your electronic signature.”
“I didn’t sign anything.”
“I suspected that.”
“Can you tell me where the money went?”
“Some transfers were made to Claire’s account. Another went to Vale Property Services. That company has an address in town.”
“Who owns it?”
“I can’t give you private account details over the phone. I can say the company’s registered agent is a man named Daniel Vale.”
Eleanor was standing in the doorway.
She heard the name.
“Daniel was my husband,” she said.
I ended the call and looked at her.
“Why would Claire pay your former husband?”
Eleanor’s face went pale.
“Daniel has been dead for eight years.”
The line to the bank remained open.
Tessa spoke through the speaker.
“Mr. Ellis?”
“What was the payment to Vale Property Services for?”
“I can’t see the invoice yet. I’ll request the records. There is another issue.”
“What?”
“The initial transfer request appears to have been uploaded with a document. The system flags it as a trust amendment.”
My hand tightened on the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“It may have changed who could access the account.”
“I never amended the account.”
“I understand. We’re reviewing the document.”
Eleanor sat down.
“I have never heard of Vale Property Services.”
“Could someone have used Daniel’s name?”
“Maybe. Claire knew him. She met him once, years ago.”
“Why would she pay him?”
“I don’t know.”
Maya entered the room in yesterday’s clothes. She looked exhausted but steadier than the night before.
“What happened?”
I told her.
She listened without interrupting.
“Maybe Mom’s letter will explain something,” she said.
She brought the wooden box to the table and removed the letters. Most had been folded twice. The earliest one was dated three months after Maya’s birth.
Maya read it silently, then handed it to me.
Maren wrote that she and Eleanor had argued after the hospital. Not about the babies. About a piece of family property their father had left behind.
A house near the lake.
Maren believed Eleanor had signed away her claim while under medication. Eleanor believed Maren had changed the paperwork.
They stopped speaking.
But the letters showed that they later reconciled.
Maren asked to meet.
Eleanor agreed.
The last letter was dated a year before Maren died.
“I want Maya to know she has an aunt who loves her,” Maren had written. “I’m not asking you to forgive the past tonight. I’m asking you to give my daughter a bigger family than the one we came from.”
The final pages were missing.
“Someone tore them out,” Maya said.
I looked at the broken binding.
“Do you remember seeing this box before?”
“No.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“I gave it to Maren before you married. I thought she’d kept it.”
“Why did Claire have it?”
Nobody answered.
Brooke came in carrying two cups of coffee.
She set one in front of Maya.
“Mom texted me,” she said. “She says she’s staying at Grandma’s.”
“Did she say anything else?” I asked.
Brooke showed us the message.
TELL YOUR FATHER TO STOP. THIS IS BETWEEN ADULTS.
Maya read it.
“Does she think we aren’t involved?”
“She says she’s protecting you.”
“From the truth?”
Brooke’s phone buzzed again.
This time, it was a photograph.
The red Mustang was parked outside Hawthorne House.
A figure stood beside it.
The picture was blurry, but the figure wore Claire’s deep-green dress.
The message underneath read:
SHE ISN’T AT HER MOTHER’S.
Brooke dropped the phone.
Eleanor moved toward her.
“Where did this come from?”
“Unknown number.”
I took the phone and enlarged the picture. The building sign was visible above the entrance.
Hawthorne House.
A second car was parked behind the Mustang. Its license plate ended in 421.
“Do you recognize it?” I asked Eleanor.
She shook her head.
I called Claire.
She did not answer.
I called her mother’s room at the care facility. A nurse said Claire had not visited that morning.
We drove there anyway.
The Mustang wasn’t in the lot.
A receptionist confirmed that Claire’s mother had been moved to a different room the previous month. She gave me the name of the administrator, then lowered her voice.
“Mr. Ellis, a woman came by yesterday asking for Mrs. Weller’s financial file.”
“Who?”
“I thought it was your wife. But the signature on the visitor form said Claire Weller.”
“Is that her name?”
The receptionist looked uncomfortable.
“No. Her name is Claire Ellis.”
I asked for the visitor form.
The administrator refused.
As we turned to leave, she called after us.
“Mr. Ellis? Your wife left a key with the desk.”
May you like
The key had a paper tag.
It read: STORAGE 18.
