Chapter 4 - THE SIGNATURE IN THE SHADOWS
The train ticket slipped from my fingers, landing softly against the sterile white blanket.
Montreal.
Luke didn't know anyone in Montreal. He didn't speak French. He was a man who loved routine, who spent his Sunday mornings making pancakes for the twins and his evenings sketching housing plans on our living room floor. The man I knew would never buy a one-way ticket out of the country without his family.
Adrian arrived twenty minutes later, his usually immaculate suit slightly rumpled from rushing. He took one look at my face and pulled a chair directly to the side of my bed.
“Show me the documents,” he said gently.
I handed him the thick stack Vanessa had left behind, along with the silver money clip. Then, I picked up the train ticket and handed that over, too.
“I found this hidden in the lining of my diaper bag from the crash,” I whispered, tears finally breaking free. “Adrian, was he leaving me? Did he steal from my company and try to run?”
Adrian’s eyes scanned the train ticket, his brow furrowing deep into a scowl. He set the ticket down and turned his attention to the loan documents. He read in silence for five agonizing minutes.
Finally, he looked up. The expression on his face wasn't pity; it was cold, calculating anger.
“Tessa, Luke didn’t steal from you,” Adrian said, tapping the paper. “This loan wasn't taken out against Northline Risk Systems.”
I blinked, confused. “Vanessa said—”
“Vanessa is banking on the fact that you’re heavily medicated and in pain,” Adrian interrupted. “Look at the corporate entity listed here. It doesn't say Northline Risk Systems. It says Northline Holding Trust.”
My heart skipped a beat. “The trust that owns my parents’ house.”
“Exactly,” Adrian said. “Luke didn't leverage your company. He leveraged the house your parents live in. He took out the maximum equity available on the property. And the funds weren't transferred to Vanessa’s decor shop.”
Adrian pulled out his tablet, typing furiously into a secure legal database. “The routing number on this document points to an offshore holding company in the Caymans. A company that, according to public registry, was dissolved three days ago.”
“Why would Luke leverage my parents' house?” I asked, my mind spinning. “And why would he buy a ticket to Montreal?”
“I don’t think he did,” Adrian said quietly. He zoomed in on the train ticket. “Look at the purchasing sequence at the bottom. It shows the last four digits of the credit card used.”
I squinted at the tiny numbers. 4492.
I knew that number. I had paid the bill for it every month for five years.
“That’s my mother’s platinum card,” I breathed.
Before Adrian could respond, Bethany knocked softly and stepped into the room. She was holding a massive, expensive-looking floral arrangement—white lilies and orchids.
“These were just dropped off at the nurse's station for you,” Bethany said, setting the heavy vase on the windowsill. “There’s no card.”
“I don't want them,” I said, a sudden wave of paranoia washing over me.
“Wait,” Adrian said, standing up. He walked over to the flowers, parting the thick white lilies.
Hidden deep inside the center of the arrangement was a child's toy.
It was a small, blue stuffed elephant.
It was Benji’s favorite toy. The one he had been holding in his car seat the night of the crash. The police had told me it was lost in the wreckage.
Adrian carefully pulled the elephant out. Pinned to the ear of the toy was a small, torn piece of yellow paper. It looked like a carbon copy receipt.
Adrian unpinned it and read it aloud.
“It’s a visitor access log from the municipal tow yard,” Adrian said, his voice tightening. “It’s dated for yesterday. Someone signed in to inspect your wrecked car.”
“Who?” I demanded, panic rising in my throat.
Adrian turned the yellow slip of paper around so I could see the signature.
May you like
It wasn't Vanessa’s name.
It was my mother’s.
