Chapter 3: The Man Jared Trusted
“Martin Hale,” Rebecca said.
Jared bent down but missed the statement.
It slipped beneath the table.
“That’s not possible,” he said.
“Martin is my chief financial officer.”
“He also witnessed the trust amendment,” Rebecca replied.
“Lauren paid him through the account opened in Diane’s name.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“How did they open it?”
“They used an old passport, a copied signature, and a change-of-address form.
Martin persuaded a bank employee to approve it remotely.”
Jared turned away from the phone.
“He stood beside me at Mom’s funeral.”
“I know,” Rebecca said.
“That’s why Lauren chose him.”
The line went quiet for several seconds.
“Why are you telling us?” I asked.
Rebecca released a shaky breath.
“Because Lauren ordered me to destroy the remaining records.
I destroyed an empty folder and kept the real ledger.”
“Where is it?”
“Not over the phone.
Meet me at St.
Mark’s Café at six.
Come alone.”
Jared leaned toward the phone.
“He’s not coming alone.”
“Then I don’t come at all,” Rebecca said.
“Martin still has access to your company, Jared.
If he knows I called, he can erase more than bank records.”
She ended the call.
Jared picked up the statement and crushed one corner in his fist.
“I gave Martin access to everything.”
“Then remove it.”
“If I lock him out without proof, the board will think I’m panicking because of Lauren’s investigation.”
My phone lit up before I could answer.
Lauren’s name appeared on the screen.
“Put it on speaker,” Jared said.
I answered.
“Lauren.”
“You spoke to Rebecca Shaw.”
It was not a question.
“That was fast.”
“Rebecca is unstable,” Lauren said.
“She was dismissed for taking confidential files.”
“She says Martin helped you.”
Lauren laughed once.
“Martin helped Jared build his company.
Be careful which lie you choose to believe.”
“You used Diane’s name.”
“I protected money that Oscar would have wasted.”
I leaned closer to the phone.
“You watched me eat soup in a freezing apartment.”
“And you could have called your wealthy son at any time.”
Jared’s face tightened.
“Don’t blame him for what you did.”
“You’re there?” Lauren asked.
“Good.
Then listen carefully.
If Rebecca releases those records, Martin will show the board every transfer you approved.”
“I approved nothing.”
“That isn’t what your digital signature says.”
Jared went still.
Lauren lowered her voice.
“You can save your company, or you can keep digging through your father’s little folder.
You cannot do both.”
The call ended.
At six, Jared waited across the street while I entered St.
Mark’s Café.
Rebecca sat in the rear booth with a canvas bag pressed against her knees.
“You look like Diane,” she said.
I stopped.
“You knew my wife?”
“No.
But Lauren kept her photograph beside the scanner.”
Rebecca slid a ledger toward me.
Every transfer had three initials beside it: LB, MH, and JB.
“JB is Jared Blake,” I said.
Rebecca nodded.
“Lauren and Martin created approvals in his name.
But that isn’t the worst page.”
She turned to the final sheet.
A scheduled transfer showed five million dollars moving from Jared’s company the following morning.
“Can they still do this?”
“Martin can.”
The café door opened behind me.
May you like
Rebecca looked past my shoulder, and every bit of color left her face.
Martin Hale locked the door and turned the sign to CLOSED.
