Chapter 4 - The Account in Carol’s Name
The next morning, Patricia took me to her office.
Marcus came too.
Diana did not.
She had refused to leave the house until her attorney arrived, and Patricia made it clear that I was not to discuss anything further without counsel present.
The drive was quiet.
Savannah moved past the window in pale morning light.
People were buying coffee.
Walking dogs.
Waiting at crosswalks.
Living ordinary lives.
My life no longer felt ordinary.
Patricia placed a folder on the passenger seat.
“Before we go further, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“We don't know yet whether Diana is telling the truth.”
I stared at the folder.
“About Carol's account?”
“About everything.”
“You think she's lying?”
“I think frightened people tell partial truths.”
That stayed with me.
At her office, Patricia opened her computer.
“We requested a banking search based on Carol's estate records.”
“And?”
“There is an account.”
My chest tightened.
“In Carol's name?”
“Technically, yes.”
“What bank?”
She told me.
I knew the bank.
Carol had used it for years.
“But I closed all her accounts after she died.”
“Most of them.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“One account was never transferred into the estate.”
“Why?”
“We don't know yet.”
Patricia opened a document.
The account had been created three years before Carol died.
Its balance eleven years ago had been substantial.
Not millions.
But enough to matter.
Today it was worth significantly more.
My mouth went dry.
“How much?”
Patricia told me.
I couldn't speak.
Marcus looked stunned.
“Dad…”
Carol had left nearly enough money to cover every debt my son and Diana had accumulated.
And somehow, most of that money had never reached me.
I looked at Patricia.
“Who had access?”
“That is the question.”
She showed me the records.
There were transfers.
Small at first.
Then larger.
Most had occurred over the past two years.
The pattern was strange.
The transfers weren't random.
They happened every few weeks.
Different amounts.
Different descriptions.
But they all went toward expenses associated with Diana's business.
Shipping.
Advertising.
Inventory.
Consulting.
Office rent.
I felt sick.
“How?”
Patricia pointed to an old authorization form.
Carol had apparently designated another person as an authorized representative years before she died.
A person whose name meant nothing to me.
“Who is that?”
Patricia said, “We've started searching.”
Marcus stared at the screen.
“Diana?”
“No,” Patricia said.
“Then who?”
Patricia turned the monitor.
The authorized representative was Carol's former financial consultant.
A man named Gregory Bell.
I recognized the surname.
“Gregory?”
“Do you know him?”
“Carol mentioned him once.”
I remembered.
A man who had helped Carol organize some investments after her mother died.
He had vanished from our lives years before Carol passed away.
“How could he still have access?”
“We don't know.”
I leaned back.
“Then how did Diana get the money?”
Patricia looked at Marcus.
“That may be something your son can answer.”
Marcus looked confused.
“What?”
Patricia showed him the transaction records.
One transfer had a note attached.
GB to DH.
Marcus's face changed.
“That's Diana's initials.”
“Yes.”
“Who is GB?”
“Gregory Bell.”
Marcus frowned.
“I know that name.”
I turned.
“How?”
He hesitated.
“Diana mentioned him.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What did she say?”
“She said he was helping with the business.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Helping how?”
Marcus looked embarrassed.
“He was consulting.”
“For how much?”
“I don't know.”
Patricia pulled another document from the folder.
“We do.”
The consulting payments were significant.
More than Diana had disclosed on her tax paperwork.
Much more.
“Where was the money going?”
Patricia traced the transfers.
“That's where it gets interesting.”
The money wasn't staying with Diana's company.
It was moving through two other accounts.
Then into a property investment.
A small commercial building outside Savannah.
I stared at the address.
Patricia saw my reaction.
“You recognize it?”
I nodded slowly.
“I passed that place yesterday.”
“Diana owns it.”
“What?”
“No.”
Patricia corrected herself.
“Diana's company owns an interest in it.”
Marcus leaned toward the screen.
“I didn't know that.”
“Apparently,” Patricia said, “you're not the only one who didn't.”
I looked at my son.
“Did your wife tell you anything about buying property?”
“No.”
“Did she ever say she planned to expand beyond the online business?”
“No.”
Patricia closed the file.
“There's more.”
I almost laughed.
There was always more.
“What now?”
“We searched the company's formation records.”
“And?”
“Diana's brother is listed as a manager.”
My jaw tightened.
The silver pickup.
The strange vehicles.
The cameras.
The account.
It wasn't only Diana.
There was a network.
Then Marcus whispered, “Dad…”
He was staring at another document.
“What?”
“That's my signature.”
I looked.
It appeared on a company authorization form.
But Marcus shook his head.
“I never signed this.”
Patricia took the paper.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Could it be electronic?”
“No.”
“Have you ever authorized your wife to sign for you?”
Marcus looked at me.
“No.”
Patricia was silent.
Then she looked at me.
“Robert, I think we need a forensic document examiner.”
“Why?”
She pointed to Marcus's signature.
“Because someone may have been signing his name.”
Marcus went pale.
“For what?”
Patricia looked at the company records again.
“For ownership transfers.”
I stared at the page.
Then at my son.
Then out the window.
A vehicle had slowed near Patricia's office.
A silver pickup.
It passed.
Then disappeared around the corner.
I felt the same cold sensation I'd experienced outside my house.
“Patricia.”
“Yes?”
“That's the same truck.”
She looked outside.
By the time she reached the window, it was gone.
But Patricia didn't look frightened.
She looked determined.
“We're going to find out who is driving it.”
Then she opened one final document.
At the top was a name I had not heard in eleven years.
Gregory Bell.
May you like
And beneath it was a handwritten note from Carol.
Do not trust him.
