Chapter 6: The Third Name
I called Marcus back immediately.
"Gerald Foss," I said when he picked up.
"Tell me."
"The shell account in the Caribbean had three authorized signatories." His voice was measured, the way it got when he was reading from notes.
"Daniel, a numbered entity registered in the Caymans, and a personal account belonging to Gerald Foss.
The transfers began four years ago.
Small amounts at first—under ten thousand—then larger.
The total moved through Foss's account over four years is just under eight hundred thousand dollars."
"From my estate."
"From three of your father's trust instruments, yes.
The same ones Daniel had been pressuring you to consolidate into joint ownership." A pause.
"Foss drafted the original consolidation documents.
He knew exactly which instruments to target and how to structure the transfers so they would clear compliance review."
I stood up from the chair.
"Patricia told Daniel to call Foss tonight."
"I know."
"She wasn't calling him for legal help.
She was warning him."
"That's Calloway's read as well.
He's already requested Foss's phone records." Marcus paused again.
"Emily, there's something else.
Foss was your father's attorney before he was Patricia's.
He handled the original estate instruments when your father set them up."
The room shifted slightly.
"How long has he had access?"
"The earliest irregular entry we've found is from eight years ago.
Two years before you met Daniel."
Eight years.
I sat back down.
"Marcus," I said.
"Did my father know Foss personally?
Outside of legal work?"
"They were close.
Your father trusted him completely." His voice was careful now.
"I don't want to speculate beyond what the documents show.
But the timing of the earliest transfer—eight years ago—predates Daniel's involvement entirely."
"Which means Foss may have been the one who introduced Daniel to the estate.
To me."
Marcus didn't answer right away.
"It's possible."
I looked at the red folder still open on the desk.
All those months of preparation, all those safeguards Marcus had quietly built—and underneath it, something older and deeper than Daniel, something that had been running before I ever said yes to a first dinner, before I ever walked down an aisle, before I ever believed a man's grief over a woman he claimed was gone.
"Does Patricia know the full scope of what Foss did?" I asked.
"Unknown.
She may have known about the transfers.
She may only have known that Foss was useful to Daniel and that it was better not to ask questions."
"Or she was part of it from the beginning."
"Or that," Marcus said quietly.
I thought about Patricia's face in the corridor.
The way the laughter had drained out of it when Marcus mentioned Victoria's name.
The careful way she had set down her wineglass.
The silence that had answered my accusation.
She had known about Victoria.
That much was certain.
Whether she had known about Foss, about the transfers, about the eight years of quiet theft from my family's estate—that was a question for Calloway.
"What do you need from me tonight?" I asked.
"Nothing tonight.
Sleep if you can.
Tomorrow morning I need you at my office at nine.
Calloway will be there, along with the financial crimes unit.
They'll want a full statement and they'll want to walk through the trust instruments with you so you understand exactly what was taken and from where."
"All right."
"Emily." He paused.
"I know this is a great deal to absorb in one night."
"It is," I said.
"You handled it exactly right."
I looked at the letter from Victoria, still folded on the desk.
"I had help," I said.
After I hung up, I sat for a long time without moving.
The house was completely silent now.
No voices in the corridor, no sirens, no fist against the door.
Then my phone rang.
Not Marcus.
Not a message.
An actual call, from a number I recognized immediately.
Patricia.
I watched it ring.
Four times.
Five.
It stopped.
No voicemail.
Thirty seconds later it rang again.
I picked up.
"Emily," she said.
Her voice was different from anything I had heard from her before.
Not the performance, not the whisper from the corridor.
Something flatter.
"I need to speak with you."
"Then speak," I said.
A long pause.
"Not on the phone.
Tomorrow.
In person."
"I don't think that's a good idea right now, Patricia."
"I know things," she said.
"About Foss.
About what he told Daniel before you were married.
Things that weren't in any document." Another pause, shorter this time.
"I wasn't innocent in all of this.
But I wasn't what you think I was either.
And if you're going to understand the full picture, you need to hear it from me before Foss's lawyers start building his defense."
I said nothing.
"Please," she said.
It was the first time in five years I had heard that word from her mouth directed at me.
"Tomorrow afternoon," I said.
"My attorney will be present."
The line was quiet for a moment.
Then: "All right."
I ended the call and set the phone on the desk.
Outside, the first pale light of early morning was beginning to show at the edge of the garden.
The night had been very long.
I had not slept.
I did not feel tired.
I felt the particular alertness of someone who has been waiting for something for a long time and has finally stopped waiting.
But Patricia's voice stayed with me.
*Things that weren't in any document.*
May you like
Whatever she knew, it was enough to make her call at four in the morning and say please.
That meant the story was not finished yet.
