Chapter 9: Gerald's Last Move
Gerald Fitch called Richard at four in the afternoon.
Richard put the call on speaker.
Elena sat across the table and listened.
"I know she was in Marsh's office this morning," Gerald said.
His voice was controlled, but there was something underneath it — a tightness that Richard had never heard before.
"Whatever you told them, Richard, you need to understand what you've done."
"I told them the truth," Richard said.
"You've exposed yourself.
Everything you think you've protected by cooperating — it doesn't work that way.
Marsh will take your cooperation and still come after you.
She always does."
"I know," Richard said.
"Then why—"
"Because it was the right thing to do," Richard said.
"I realize that's not a category you've spent much time in."
A pause.
"She's in the room, isn't she," Gerald said.
Not a question.
"Yes," Richard said.
"Ms.
Voss." Gerald's voice shifted — smoother now, the lawyer's register.
"I understand your grievance.
What happened to your father was wrong.
I won't pretend otherwise.
But what you're doing now will not bring him back, and it will cause significant harm to people who had no part in the decisions made fifteen years ago.
Staff.
Families.
People connected to this firm who are entirely innocent."
"I know," Elena said.
"Then you understand that there is a more measured path here.
A civil settlement.
Proper compensation to your mother.
An acknowledgment, privately, of what occurred.
No prosecution.
No public record."
"No," Elena said.
"Ms.
Voss—"
"My mother received three phone calls in one week," Elena said.
"She was forty-one years old and she was alone in her house and someone called her and told her what would happen if my father didn't sign.
She has never told me exactly what they said.
She still doesn't sleep well." Elena's voice was even.
"There is no private settlement for that, Mr.
Fitch.
There is only a public record."
Silence.
"You'll regret this," Gerald said.
His voice had dropped the smoothness entirely now.
"That's a threat," Richard said.
"It's an observation."
"It's a threat," Elena said, "and it's now part of the recording of this call, which I will be forwarding to Diane Marsh's office within the hour."
Another silence.
Longer.
"You recorded this call," Gerald said.
"I record everything," Elena said.
"I learned that from my father.
He kept copies of everything too.
You just didn't know about his copies until it was too late."
The line went quiet for a moment.
Then Gerald said, very carefully: "I want you to know that I am not the only person involved in this.
There are others who will not accept this outcome quietly."
"Kenneth Ware," Elena said.
"I know.
His address is already with the prosecutor."
The call ended.
Richard set the phone on the table.
He looked at it for a moment.
"He'll try to run," Richard said.
"His passport has been flagged since yesterday morning," Elena said.
"Diane's office moved quickly once they saw the offshore account."
Richard looked at her.
"You had all of this in place before you ever walked into my sitting room."
"Yes," Elena said.
"Then why did you need me at all?
You had enough without my cooperation."
Elena was quiet for a moment.
"Legally, maybe," she said.
"But my father trusted you.
He built something with you.
He believed in you." She looked at the phone on the table.
"I needed to know if there was anything left of the man he thought you were.
Before I decided what to do with what I had."
Richard said nothing.
"There was," she said.
"Enough."
She stood and picked up her jacket.
"Gerald Fitch will be arrested before the end of the week," she said.
"Kenneth Ware by the end of the month.
Your cooperation agreement is already being drafted.
You should have your own lawyer review it — someone Gerald didn't train."
She walked toward the door.
"Elena," Richard said.
She stopped.
"What will you do now?" he asked.
She considered the question.
"I'm going to go see my mother," she said.
"I haven't been home in six months."
May you like
She left.
The front door closed behind her, and Richard sat alone in the sitting room with the afternoon light going out around him, and the long, specific weight of fifteen years of choices settling into something he would have to carry for the rest of his life — but carry honestly, for the first time.
