Chapter 6: The Lawyer at Dawn
Ethan made the call at 4:08 in the morning.
Daniel Reeves picked up on the second ring, which told Ethan everything he needed to know about how seriously Daniel took calls from him at unusual hours.
"I need you in Briar Glen by nine," Ethan said.
"Bring Marcus if he's available.
And call whoever you use for forensic document work."
"What am I walking into?" Daniel asked.
"An inheritance case.
Twenty years old.
Forged medical certificates, fraudulent death declaration, and a living heir who has been held in a room in the family estate since she was five years old."
A pause.
"Say that last part again," Daniel said.
Ethan said it again.
"I'll be there at eight," Daniel said.
"Don't let anyone leave the property."
Ethan ended the call and looked at Claire.
She was sitting at the table with the documents in front of her, reading them for the third time.
She had eaten most of the bread.
Some color had come back into her face — not much, but enough that she looked less like someone who had been kept from the light for twenty years and more like someone who was beginning to remember what it felt like to be in it.
"He's coming at eight," Ethan said.
"Who is he?"
"My attorney.
He's very good."
"Good at what?"
"Making things difficult for people who thought they were untouchable."
Claire looked at him.
"Why are you doing this?"
Ethan considered the question.
It was a fair one.
He had no legal obligation to Claire Bennett.
He had no prior connection to her family, no financial stake in the outcome, no reason beyond the fact that he had tapped on a wall at 2:17 in the morning and something human had tapped back.
"Because I can," he said.
"And because no one else has."
Claire looked at the documents.
"I used to imagine this," she said.
"When I was young.
Someone finding me.
Someone with enough — enough weight to make them listen." She touched the edge of the top page.
"I stopped imagining it around the time I turned thirty."
"How old are you now?"
"Twenty-five.
I turned twenty-five in October."
Ethan went still.
"The trust," he said.
"Was supposed to transfer to me on my twenty-fifth birthday." She looked up.
"They had the death declaration finalized when I was seven.
The estate transferred to Vivian's name when I was twelve.
By the time I turned twenty-five, the trust had been dissolved and the assets redistributed." She paused.
"They were very thorough."
"Thorough isn't the same as legal."
"No," she agreed.
"But it's the same as difficult."
Downstairs, a door closed.
Then another.
Ethan stood.
"I'm going to check on what they're doing."
"Be careful," Claire said.
Then she caught herself, as if surprised by her own instinct to warn him.
"They've had practice at managing situations.
Grant especially."
"So have I," Ethan said.
He found Grant in the study, standing at the fireplace with a glass of something amber in his hand and the expression of a man who had decided that the best remaining strategy was composure.
The filing cabinet beside the desk was open.
Two drawers.
Ethan looked at it.
"Looking for something?" he asked.
"Personal documents," Grant said.
"Family records.
Nothing relevant to your concerns."
"Leave the cabinet as it is."
Grant looked at him.
"This is my house."
"It may not be," Ethan said.
"And until that question is answered by someone with legal authority to answer it, I'd recommend leaving every document in this house exactly where it is."
Grant took a slow sip from his glass.
"You're making a significant mistake, Mr.
Hale.
You don't know this family.
You don't know what Claire is.
You've spent forty minutes with a woman who has been — who has serious psychological difficulties — and you've decided to blow up three people's lives on her word."
"And the forged documents," Ethan said.
Grant's hand tightened on the glass.
"And the twenty years of pencil marks on the wall," Ethan said.
"And the maid who disappeared.
And the fact that your wife has been carrying photocopies of your family's crjme in a manila envelope for three years because she was afraid to go to the police alone." He paused.
"Did I miss anything?"
Grant set the glass down on the mantelpiece.
"I want you out of this house," he said quietly.
"My lawyer arrives at eight," Ethan said.
"After that, you can want whatever you like."
Grant stared at him for a long moment.
Then he said, very quietly: "You have no idea what my mother is capable of."
May you like
It was meant as a threat.
It landed as a confession.
