Chapter 6: What Grace Found
Grace Holloway had been a family law and financial litigation attorney for twenty-two years.
She had a voice like someone who had heard every version of every lie and had stopped being surprised by any of them.
When I first called her six weeks ago, she had listened to everything I said without interrupting once.
Then she had asked me three questions, told me to gather what I could without alerting Daniel, and said she would handle the rest.
She had handled the rest.
Monday morning, I was sitting in her office when she walked in carrying a folder thick enough to use as a doorstop.
"The forensic report is complete," she said, setting it on the desk between us.
"The transfers are documented.
Eighteen months, 214 individual transactions, all traceable to the joint account, the business expense account, and the three redirected client payments you identified." She sat down.
"He was careful, but not careful enough.
He used the same routing pattern every time."
"What does that mean for the probate challenge?"
"It means his lawyer has a problem.
You can't simultaneously argue that your wife is too naive to understand property law and also that she orchestrated a sophisticated financial conspiracy.
Pick one." She opened the folder.
"We're filing the financial complaint with the state bar's client protection board this morning, and the civil fraud claim goes to the court at noon."
I looked at the papers.
"And the deed challenge?"
"I've already spoken to the judge's clerk.
Given the documentation of the hidden account, any probate challenge filed by Daniel's attorney will be reviewed in the context of the broader fraud case.
His lawyer knows this.
I expect the challenge to be quietly withdrawn within the week."
"He won't just let it go."
"No," Grace said.
"He'll try something else first." She looked at me steadily.
"Are you ready for that?"
"What kind of something else?"
"He'll go after your character.
He'll say you manipulated your grandmother.
He'll find people willing to say you were difficult, unstable, unreasonable.
He may try to contact your employer." She paused.
"He may try to contact Cara."
"Cara already knows everything he knows," I said.
"She told him all of it."
"Then she's already been deposed." Grace allowed herself a small, dry smile.
"She was very forthcoming once she understood the legal exposure she was carrying.
She didn't realize that passing along information to help someone conceal financial fraud made her a potential accessory."
I sat with that for a moment.
"She thought she was helping a friend," I said.
"She thought she was helping a man who told her his wife was unstable and trying to destroy the family business," Grace said.
"He was very convincing.
Most of them are." She closed the folder.
"She gave us three additional transfers we hadn't found yet.
And a voicemail."
"A voicemail."
"Daniel left her a message five weeks ago.
He was very specific about what he needed her to find out and why." Grace slid a small recorder across the desk.
"Would you like to hear it?"
I pressed play.
His voice came out of the small speaker, calm and methodical, explaining to Cara exactly what he needed to know and exactly what he planned to do with the information.
He mentioned the probate challenge by name.
He mentioned the leverage strategy.
He mentioned me.
He said, near the end, that once this was resolved, he would make sure she was taken care of.
I stopped the recording.
"He promised her money," I said.
"Which she will not be receiving," Grace said.
"Given that she is now a cooperating witness."
I set the recorder down on the desk.
Outside Grace's office window, the city was going about its Monday morning.
People with coffee cups.
A delivery truck.
A woman walking a dog that kept stopping to investigate every lamppost.
"He's going to be furious," I said.
"Yes," Grace said.
"He's going to call his father."
"His father called me on Saturday morning," Grace said.
"He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help."
I looked at her.
"He's not protecting his son," she said simply.
"Not anymore."
I stood up and buttoned my coat.
My hand was still bandaged from Christmas night.
The burn wasn't serious, but it would leave a mark for a while.
I looked at it for a moment.
Then I picked up my bag and walked to the door.
"File everything," I said.
May you like
"Already done," Grace said.
"As of nine this morning."
