Chapter 4 - THE MISSING NOTARYRichard Vale had not reported to work in nine days.
That fact transformed the investigation.
Until then, Ethan’s scheme looked like financial fraud wrapped around abuse.
Now someone connected to the forged documents was missing.
Agent Reeves did not tell me Richard was dead.
He didn’t know.
But the possibility entered the room and sat beside us anyway.
“Tell me everything Julian said,” he ordered.
I did.
Reeves stood beside Margaret’s conference table while another agent typed notes.
“Did Julian say Vale was injured?”
“No.”
“Blood?”
“I don’t remember the night.”
“According to Julian.”
“According to Julian, I woke and saw him unconscious.”
“Did he explain why Vale was there?”
“No.”
Reeves looked irritated.
“With himself?”
“With the situation.”
“Both.”
Margaret crossed her arms.
“Can you locate Vale?”
“We’re working on that.”
“What about Julian?”
“We’ll speak to him.”
I shook my head.
“He’s frightened. If you approach him openly, Ethan will know.”
Reeves gave me a look.
“This is not your investigation.”
“It is my life.”
“And that’s why you don’t get to run it.”
He was right.
I hated him for being right.
Richard Vale’s wife had reported him missing four days earlier.
His vehicle was found at Dallas Love Field.
No evidence showed he had boarded a flight.
His phone had gone offline the same evening I blacked out in Julian’s SUV.
Reeves asked whether I remembered anything.
I closed my eyes.
Nothing.
Then—
A light.
White and harsh.
A cold tabletop beneath my palm.
A man saying, “She’s awake.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
Margaret leaned toward me.
“I remembered something.”
Reeves became very still.
“Tell me without trying to fill gaps.”
“A room. Bright overhead light. Someone said I was awake.”
“Male or female?”
“Male.”
“Anything else?”
I shut my eyes again.
A smell.
Coffee.
Concrete.
Something medicinal.
Then a voice.
My husband.
“Claire, sweetheart, you’re okay.”
I gripped the table.
“He was there.”
“Ethan?”
I nodded.
“What happened next?”
“I don’t know.”
Reeves warned me not to force memory.
Memory under trauma or sedation could be fragmented and unreliable.
He needed evidence.
Fortunately, Ethan had created plenty.
By Thursday morning, investigators had verified three forged notarizations.
Dr. Nathaniel Cole’s letter was also suspicious. Cole was not my physician.
He was, however, medical director for a private clinic partially owned by a Whitmore family investment fund.
That afternoon Ethan called.
“Pack an overnight bag.”
I stood in the lobby of my office.
“For what?”
“Surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“You’ll like this one.”
“Ethan—”
“We’ve had a rough few months. I thought we needed something together.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
Friday.
“Where?”
“Lake house.”
My heart hammered.
The Whitmores owned a property two hours east of Dallas.
Private.
Isolated.
Exactly the sort of place I should not go.
I smiled even though he couldn’t see me.
“That sounds nice.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He sounded relieved.
“Julian’s driving us.”
Of course he was.
After the call, Reeves said absolutely not.
Margaret agreed.
I surprised both.
“I’m going.”
“No,” Reeves said.
“If I refuse, they know.”
“Then let them know.”
“And Vale?”
“We find him another way.”
“If he’s alive, Friday may be our last chance.”
Reeves studied me.
“You’re assuming he’s connected to the lake house.”
“No. I’m assuming Ethan is accelerating because he senses something.”
Margaret paced.
“If Claire goes anywhere, she has protection.”
That became the plan.
Not the kind seen in movies.
No dramatic wire taped beneath my dress.
No agent hiding in the trunk.
Instead, investigators built overlapping safeguards and made it clear that I was to leave immediately if instructed.
I also signed documents freezing my shares before the forged transfer could finalize.
Margaret kept that action confidential for as long as possible.
Friday afternoon, I packed.
Ethan watched from the doorway.
“You brought the green dress.”
“You like it.”
“I do.”
The dress reminded me of the first anniversary trip we had taken to Paris.
I wondered whether he remembered that.
I wondered whether any memory between us meant the same thing to him that it meant to me.
At 4:20, Julian arrived.
The moment I saw him, I knew something had changed.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Ethan tossed our luggage into the SUV.
“Ready?”
I climbed into the passenger seat.
Ethan sat behind me.
Julian drove.
Twenty minutes outside Dallas, Ethan handed me a bottle of water.
“There she is,” he joked.
“Our sleeping beauty.”
My fingers tightened around the bottle.
Julian stared straight ahead.
I twisted the cap but did not drink.
Ethan watched me in the mirror.
“Aren’t you thirsty?”
“Not really.”
“You complained about a headache.”
“I’m fine.”
His smile disappeared.
“Drink some water.”
For the first time, he didn’t disguise the command.
I raised the bottle.
Pretended to swallow.
A few minutes later, I let my head tilt toward the window.
The car continued east.
Then Julian abruptly left the highway.
I kept my eyes closed.
Ethan spoke first.
“Wrong turn.”
“No.”
“Julian.”
“I’m not going to the lake.”
Silence.
“What did you say?”
Julian’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“I said I’m done.”
My heart raced.
Ethan’s voice became eerily soft.
“Think carefully.”
“I have.”
“You owe me.”
“I’ll repay you.”
“You can’t.”
“Then I’ll go to prison.”
That surprised even me.
Ethan laughed once.
“You think prison is the worst thing I can do?”
Julian looked into the rearview mirror.
“You touched Vale.”
I almost moved.
Ethan said nothing.
Then: “Keep driving.”
“No.”
“Keep driving.”
Julian pulled toward the shoulder.
Ethan leaned forward.
I opened my eyes.
“Enough.”
Both men froze.
Ethan stared at me.
I turned around.
For once, he had no prepared expression.
“You’re awake.”
“Yes.”
Julian whispered, “Claire—”
I raised a hand.
“Don’t.”
Ethan looked at the bottle.
Then me.
Understanding spread across his face.
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
His eyes changed.
The charming husband vanished.
“What have you done?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He reached for the door.
At that exact moment, two dark vehicles appeared behind us.
Ethan saw them.
His face went white.
Julian slowly pulled onto the shoulder.
Federal agents surrounded the SUV.
Reeves approached my side and opened the door.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
I stepped out.
Ethan remained inside.
He was not arrested.
Not yet.
Reeves had hoped Ethan might lead them to stronger evidence.
Instead, he had exposed himself.
Ethan stepped from the SUV and looked at me across the roof.
“You brought federal agents into our marriage?”
I stared at him.
“You brought forged signatures and sedatives into it first.”
His jaw flexed.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
“Save it.”
“Claire.”
For a moment, his voice softened.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
I almost laughed.
That had always been his favorite weapon.
Making me doubt what I knew.
This time it failed.
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
An agent guided me toward another vehicle.
Then Julian called out.
“Wait.”
Everyone looked at him.
He opened the SUV’s center console and removed a small brass key.
“I can take you to Richard Vale.”
Reeves stopped.
“Is he alive?”
Julian’s eyes filled with something I had never seen before.
May you like
Shame.
“He was yesterday.”
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