Chapter 4: The Money That Was Already Gone
Detective Collins arrived back at the room within twenty minutes.
She was not alone.
A second detective — younger, with a close-cut beard and a gray jacket — stood just inside the door.
She introduced him as Detective Reyes.
"The text came from a burner," Collins said.
"We're pulling the cell tower data now.
But I need to ask you something before we go further." She sat down across from me.
"The trust.
Anna's trust.
When did you last review the account statements?"
I thought about it.
"Six months ago.
Maybe seven.
The quarterly reports come by mail.
I file them."
"You don't check online?"
"The account was set up by Anna's estate attorney.
I never changed the login from the original."
Collins and Reyes exchanged a look.
"Daniel," Collins said carefully.
"We contacted the trust administrator this afternoon, as part of the arrest documentation for Evelyn.
They flagged something." She opened a folder.
"Over the past fourteen months, a series of advisory fee withdrawals have been processed against the trust.
Each one is just under the threshold that triggers automatic notification to the trustee."
I stared at her.
"How much?"
She turned the page toward me.
The number was $340,000.
The room tilted slightly.
"That's not possible," I said.
"I would have — the statements would have shown — "
"The statements were rerouted," Reyes said.
"Someone changed the mailing address on the account eleven months ago.
The paper statements have been going to a P.O.
box registered to a company called Hartfield Advisory Group."
"Hartfield," I repeated.
"Evelyn's maiden name is Hart," Collins said.
"Hartfield Advisory Group was incorporated fourteen months ago.
One week before the first withdrawal."
I pressed both hands flat on the table.
"Michael has access to my mail.
He collects it when I travel.
He knows my filing system."
"We know," Reyes said.
"He could have intercepted the original statements before I ever saw them."
"We know that too."
I looked at Collins.
"Three hundred and forty thousand dollars.
From Lily's trust."
"So far," she said.
"The forensic accountant is still working through the records.
There may be more."
The door opened.
A nurse looked in, saw the detectives, and quietly withdrew.
"I want to understand the timeline," I said.
"Evelyn files the custody petition two weeks before the luncheon.
The trust withdrawals start fourteen months ago.
When did Michael move into my house?"
Collins checked her notes.
"When did he ask to move in?"
"Two weeks after Anna's funeral." I heard my own voice go flat.
"He said he was between jobs.
He said he wanted to help with Lily."
Nobody said anything.
"He came to help," I said.
"That's what I believed."
"The custody petition names Michael as proposed guardian," Collins said.
"If the court had removed you as trustee and granted him guardianship, he would have had legal authority over Lily and full access to the remaining trust balance."
"Two point six million dollars," I said.
"Yes."
I stood up.
I needed to stand.
I walked to the window and looked out at the hospital parking structure.
Somewhere in that building, Evelyn Hart was being processed.
Somewhere across the city, Michael was sitting with a dead phone, knowing the call had gone wrong.
"He asked about the second injector," I said.
"Why does he need it?"
Collins came to stand beside me.
"The injector you used on Lily at the luncheon was logged by the paramedics.
It's already in evidence.
The second one — the one taken from your pocket — that one was found in Evelyn's car.
But Michael doesn't know we have it."
"He thinks it's still out there."
"He thinks if we find it with his fingerprints on it, he's finished." She paused.
"His prints are already on it, Daniel.
We processed it an hour ago."
I turned to look at her.
"Then why does he think he still has time?"
"Because," Collins said, "he doesn't know Lily remembered what she heard.
He doesn't know about the watch recording.
And he doesn't know that Evelyn is already in custody." She folded her hands.
"He thinks he's still one step ahead."
Reyes's phone buzzed.
He read the screen, then looked up.
"Cell tower data came back," he said.
"The burner that sent the text pinged a tower four blocks from this hospital." He looked at Collins.
"Forty-five minutes ago."
Collins moved toward the door.
"He's not across the city," I said.
May you like
"No," she said.
"He isn't."
