Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH"Where is my son?"
The question came out of my mouth before I realized I'd spoken.
Nathan stared at the photograph on my phone.
For one split second, something dark crossed his face.
Recognition.
Then he reached for his own phone.
"Emily, you're overreacting."
I backed away.
"Who is that man standing beside Oliver?"
"What man?"
"Don't insult me."
Vanessa moved closer, looking over my shoulder.
When she saw the photograph, her face drained of color.
"Oh, God."
I turned toward her.
"You know him?"
She nodded.
"His name is Marcus Vale."
Nathan slammed his hand against the dresser.
"Vanessa, shut your mouth!"
But she didn't.
"He's Nathan's private security contractor."
I looked at my husband.
"Why would a sales director need private security?"
Nathan opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
"WHERE IS MY SON?"
"At home," Nathan snapped. "Where he's supposed to be."
"Then why is this man following him?"
"Because I've been protecting this family!"
The words burst out of him so violently that even he seemed surprised.
I stared.
"Protecting us from what?"
He took a slow breath.
"Emily, there are things about your mother's past you don't understand."
"Then explain them."
"It's complicated."
"Try me."
Nathan glanced at Vanessa.
His jaw tightened.
"Your mother was involved with some dangerous people."
I almost laughed.
My mother, Margaret Whitmore, had been a gentle woman who taught me to bake biscuits on Sunday mornings and cried whenever an animal was injured in a movie.
She collected antique teacups.
She volunteered at the public library.
She never went anywhere without her battered leather purse.
Dangerous people?
"My mother ran a small accounting business," I said.
Nathan shook his head.
"That's what you believed."
Vanessa suddenly grabbed my wrist.
"Emily, listen to me. He will tell you whatever he has to tell you to get those documents back."
Nathan stepped toward us.
"Get away from my wife."
Vanessa ignored him.
"Call someone you trust. Right now."
I thought of my best friend, Detective Rachel Dawson.
Rachel and I had known each other since college. She worked in Milwaukee's financial crimes unit, and she was one of the few people who had never been impressed by Nathan's expensive suits or polished charm.
I called her.
She answered on the second ring.
"Hey, Em. Happy anniversary!"
My throat tightened.
"Rachel, I need help."
Her tone changed instantly.
"What happened?"
"I'm in Chicago. At the Belmont Grand. Nathan's here with another woman."
A moment of silence.
"Oh, Emily."
"That's not the worst part."
I told her about the photograph.
The black SUV.
My mother.
The inheritance.
I heard Rachel moving.
"Listen carefully," she said. "Don't get into a car with Nathan. Don't hand over the documents. And don't go home until we know Oliver is safe."
"Can you check on him?"
"Already doing it. I'm calling your sister-in-law."
Nathan heard that.
His expression sharpened.
"Who are you calling?"
I ignored him.
Rachel continued.
"Where's Oliver supposed to be?"
"At home with Denise."
Denise was Nathan's younger sister, a quiet kindergarten teacher who babysat Oliver when my husband and I both worked late.
"Okay," Rachel said. "I'm contacting her now."
Nathan stepped closer.
"Emily, give me the phone."
I held it tighter.
He reached for my wrist.
Vanessa moved between us.
"Don't touch her."
Nathan looked at Vanessa as though he'd never seen her before.
"You think you're helping?" he whispered. "You have no idea what you've done."
Vanessa's hands were trembling.
"Yes, Nathan. I do."
She pointed to the envelope.
"Because I found the transfer records."
My husband went still.
"What transfer records?" I asked.
Vanessa took a breath.
"The ones showing how the Whitmore assets were moved into shell companies controlled by Nathan and his business partner."
My mind struggled to follow.
"What assets?"
"Your mother's estate. Her commercial properties. Her ownership stake in Whitmore Medical Holdings. The family trust."
I shook my head.
"She didn't have any of those things."
"She did," Vanessa said.
Nathan laughed bitterly.
"She had debts, Vanessa. Enormous debts. You don't understand what those documents mean."
"I understand that you used forged authorization forms."
"Careful."
"And I understand that you paid a clinic to keep a woman isolated from her daughter for eleven years."
The silence that followed was absolute.
My husband looked toward the door.
Then the window.
Then back at us.
I finally understood.
Nathan wasn't trying to explain himself.
He was calculating.
"Why?" I whispered.
He turned toward me.
"Why what?"
"Why marry me?"
His expression softened.
"Emily, I loved you."
"Did you?"
"Of course."
"Before or after you discovered my mother's money?"
His face changed.
That was answer enough.
For twelve years, I had remembered Nathan as the handsome young consultant who'd brought soup to my apartment when I had the flu.
The man who'd proposed beneath a maple tree.
The father who'd held our newborn son with tears in his eyes.
Had any of it been real?
Rachel's voice suddenly burst from my phone.
"Emily?"
I lifted it.
"I'm here."
"Denise isn't answering."
Cold spread through my chest.
"Call again."
"I have. Six times."
Nathan looked away.
Rachel continued.
"I've asked officers to check the house. I need you to tell me something. Has Nathan ever mentioned a man named Daniel Price?"
Nathan's head snapped toward me.
Vanessa whispered, "Oh, no."
I gripped the phone.
"Who is Daniel Price?"
Rachel's voice turned hard.
"He's a financial consultant under investigation in three states. We think he's connected to a fraudulent guardianship operation."
"What does that have to do with my mother?"
"We don't know yet."
Nathan suddenly walked toward the door.
"Where are you going?" I demanded.
"To fix this."
He reached for the handle.
Vanessa shouted, "Emily, don't let him leave with his phone!"
Nathan turned.
The look he gave her made my blood run cold.
"You should have stayed out of my business."
Then he opened the door.
Two men in dark suits stood outside.
One was tall, with a shaved head and a scar running along his jaw.
The other held a phone.
Nathan looked at them.
Then at me.
"Take the envelope."
The tall man stepped forward.
And I realized the hotel room wasn't simply the place where my marriage had ended.
It might be the place where I disappeared.
But before either man could reach me, the elevator doors at the end of the hallway opened.
A woman in a gray pantsuit stepped out with two uniformed hotel security officers.
She raised a badge.
"Chicago Police Department."
The tall man froze.
The woman looked directly at Nathan.
"Mr. Cole, I suggest you keep your hands where I can see them."
Then she turned toward me.
"Mrs. Cole? Your friend Detective Dawson called. We need to get you somewhere safe."
Relief nearly buckled my knees.
But the officer wasn't smiling.
"There's something else," she said.
"We received a report from your son's school."
My stomach dropped.
"What report?"
She hesitated.
"Someone tried to pick Oliver up this afternoon using a forged emergency authorization."
I stared at my husband.
May you like
The woman continued.
"And the person who signed that authorization used your name."
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