Chapter 4 - The Signature I Couldn’t Remember
I wanted to throw Vanessa out of the house.
Instead, I photographed every page she had given me and sent it to Mason Reed, the private investigator who had found Olivia.
He called less than a minute later.
“Where did you get this?”
“Vanessa.”
There was a pause.
“Ethan, don’t confront anyone else.”
“Too late.”
“Then get Sophie somewhere safe.”
“What did you find?”
“Not over the phone.”
“Mason.”
His voice dropped.
“The signature on that hold order is probably real.”
I gripped the counter.
“You can tell that from a picture?”
“I can tell you the document was notarized by your family attorney, and the timestamp matches a transaction from your personal account.”
“What transaction?”
“Forty thousand dollars to Harbor Ridge.”
I had never paid Harbor Ridge a dollar.
Or at least I didn’t remember doing it.
Mason continued, “Meet me at the office on Wilshire in an hour. Come alone.”
The call ended.
Vanessa watched me.
“What did he say?”
“That you’re leaving.”
“Ethan—”
“Security will escort you out.”
Her eyes hardened. “You think putting me outside fixes this?”
“No. It keeps you away from Sophie.”
She stepped closer. “Ask yourself why Olivia comes into this house but never walks through the front door. Ask why she sees Sophie but refuses to see you.”
I hated that the question worked.
Before I could answer, Malcolm entered.
“Mr. Carter, we have a vehicle at the south gate.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Lucas.”
Of course.
My brother walked into the kitchen five minutes later like he owned the place. He looked from Vanessa’s suitcase to the shattered glass on the floor.
“What happened?”
I held up the psychiatric order.
His face barely changed.
Barely.
“You remember this?” I asked.
He looked at the page. “Should I?”
“You were with me that week.”
“Ethan, that was almost two years ago.”
“Olivia was held at Harbor Ridge.”
Lucas looked at Vanessa.
That one glance was enough.
“You knew,” I said.
He exhaled. “I knew she was being treated.”
“She was locked up.”
“She was sick.”
“Did I sign this?”
He paused.
“Yeah.”
My anger vanished.
That scared me more.
“Why don’t I remember?”
Lucas looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“You were drinking heavily after the fight.”
“I wasn’t drinking.”
“Ethan—”
“I had quit six months earlier.”
He looked away.
I stepped closer. “What happened during those two days?”
Before he could answer, my phone rang.
Mason.
I answered.
There was no greeting.
Just heavy breathing.
Then a scraping sound.
“Mason?”
A man spoke in the background.
“He found too much.”
The line went dead.
I called back.
No answer.
Thirty seconds later, a text arrived from Mason’s number.
A photograph.
His office door hanging open.
Blood on the floor.
Under it, one sentence:
YOUR WIFE ISN’T HIDING FROM VANESSA.
SHE’S HIDING FROM YOU.
The police sealed Mason’s office, but Malcolm found one thing they missed.
A microSD card taped beneath the passenger seat of Mason’s car.
On it was a single audio memo.
Mason’s voice sounded rushed.
“If Ethan hears this, Bell is compromised. Lucas is not the top of the chain. The money goes through a family account older than Lucas’s position at the company.”
Paper rustled in the background.
Then Mason said, “The account holder is—”
The recording cut off.
I stared at the file timestamp.
It had been made twenty minutes before Bell arrived at Mason’s office.
Malcolm checked the card metadata.
“Someone tried to wipe it.”
“Bell?”
“Maybe.”
He turned the laptop toward me.
The attempted deletion came from a device registered to Eleanor Carter.
My mother.
---
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