Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN FROM THE PHOTOGRAPHVanessa Cole had disappeared from my life seven years ago.
I had made sure of it.
She had been our financial controller for almost five years.
Smart.
Efficient.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
The first sign that something was wrong came from an audit.
Several vendor accounts had changed.
Small amounts at first.
Three hundred dollars.
Seven hundred.
Twelve hundred.
Nothing that would trigger panic.
But an engineer knows that small cracks matter.
So I kept digging.
The payments all led to companies that technically existed.
They had addresses.
Tax numbers.
Bank accounts.
Invoices.
But no real employees.
No warehouses.
No equipment.
Shell companies.
And every trail led back to Vanessa.
When I confronted her, she cried.
Then she denied everything.
Then the police got involved.
Then she disappeared.
We recovered most of the money.
Not all of it.
I had not seen her since.
Until now.
I looked again at the photograph.
Derek beside Vanessa.
Outside a law office.
Why would they know each other?
And why had they met without telling me?
I called Sandra, my attorney.
She answered on the second ring.
"Frances?"
"I need you to look something up."
Her voice sharpened.
"Is something wrong?"
"Search Vanessa Cole."
There was a pause.
"That's a name I haven't heard in years."
"Search it."
She did.
I could hear keyboard clicks.
Then silence.
"Well?"
"Sandra?"
"I found something."
"What?"
"She formed a company six months ago."
"What company?"
"Northstar Advisory Group."
I closed my eyes.
"What's its business?"
"Financial consulting."
I laughed once.
There was nothing funny about it.
"Of course it is."
Sandra continued.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"One of the directors is Derek Hale."
My stomach dropped.
Derek.
Vanessa.
Same company.
Six months.
The timing was wrong.
Derek had met Joselyn eight months ago.
Two months before Northstar was created.
I sat down.
"How much capital?"
"Nominal at formation."
"And now?"
"That's where it gets interesting."
She paused.
"Several large transfers went through their accounts."
"How large?"
"Five figures."
"From where?"
Sandra's voice lowered.
"That's what I'm trying to determine."
I stared at Robert's photograph on the mantel.
My late husband's smile stared back at me.
He had spent thirty-five years building the company with me.
After he died, I became the sole owner.
The company wasn't enormous.
But it was profitable.
Stable.
Worth enough to attract exactly the wrong kind of person.
"Could Derek have accessed my company's records?"
"I don't know."
"But he shouldn't have."
"He shouldn't have had your financial information either."
I looked at the folder on my table.
That was the real problem.
Derek knew too much.
My assets.
My accounts.
My company.
My legal structure.
Even the wedding deposit.
He was operating with information he had no legitimate reason to possess.
"Sandra."
"Yes?"
"I want every account frozen that can be frozen without disrupting the business."
She didn't hesitate.
"I'll start."
"And Sandra?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell Joselyn."
Another pause.
"You're afraid she'll warn him."
"I'm afraid she already has."
That night, I barely slept.
At 2:13 a.m., I heard a noise downstairs.
A soft metallic sound.
I got out of bed.
My heart was pounding.
I took the flashlight from the nightstand and walked toward the stairs.
The house was dark.
I checked the kitchen.
Nothing.
Living room.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the front door.
It was open.
I stopped breathing.
I knew I had locked it.
I always locked it.
I stepped closer.
Cold air moved through the doorway.
On the floor was a white envelope.
My name was written on it.
FRANCES WEBER
No stamp.
No address.
I picked it up.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Three words.
CHECK YOUR TRUST.
Underneath was a bank account number.
I stared at it.
I knew that number.
It was attached to a trust I had established for Joselyn when she was twelve.
But the account was supposed to be dormant.
I called Sandra immediately.
She answered groggily.
"Frances?"
"Wake up."
"What happened?"
"Someone broke into my house."
Silence.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Did they take anything?"
"Apparently not."
"What did they leave?"
I read her the note.
She became fully awake.
"Do not touch anything else."
"I already touched it."
"Frances, listen to me. I'm sending someone over."
By the time she arrived, police were already outside.
The officers searched the house.
Nothing appeared stolen.
No forced entry.
No damage.
Just the envelope.
Sandra examined it through plastic gloves.
Then she looked at me.
"There's something wrong with this."
"What?"
"Look at the account number."
"I know it."
"No."
She pointed.
"Look at the last four digits."
I did.
They matched the last four digits of Robert's old personal bank account.
The account had been closed twelve years earlier.
I felt a chill move through me.
Sandra whispered:
"Frances, somebody is sending you messages through your husband's financial history."
Then one of the officers walked in.
"Mrs. Weber?"
"Yes?"
"We found footage from the neighbor's security camera."
He handed me a tablet.
The video showed my house.
A black SUV stopped outside at 1:57 a.m.
A man got out.
He walked toward my front door.
The image was blurry.
But there was enough.
He turned his head.
The porch light caught his face.
It was Derek.
I looked at Sandra.
She looked at me.
Then my phone rang.
Joselyn.
I answered.
Her voice was trembling.
"Mom?"
"Joselyn, where are you?"
"I'm scared."
"Why?"
"I just found something in Derek's office."
"What?"
There was a long pause.
Then she whispered:
"Mom... I think he has a file about you."
The line went silent.
I heard a sound behind her.
A man's voice.
"Derek?"
Then Joselyn screamed.
May you like
The call ended.
I ran for the door.
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