Chapter 10 - The Woman in Red
Arthur’s office looked as though a storm had passed through it.
Drawers hung open.
Files covered the carpet.
A shattered picture frame lay beneath the window.
But the computer monitors remained untouched.
So did the antique silver on Arthur’s bookshelf and the expensive fountain pens arranged on his desk.
Whoever had entered the office had come for information.
Only information.
Detective Mara Chen of the Hartford Police Department stood beside the conference table, photographing a broken cabinet lock.
“No forced entry downstairs,” she said. “Whoever did this used a valid building access card.”
Arthur’s expression darkened.
“My staff cards are individually coded.”
“Exactly.”
Mara turned toward him.
“One was used at 1:42 this morning.”
“Whose?”
She checked her tablet.
“Yours.”
Arthur stared at her.
“My card was in my wallet.”
Mara nodded.
“Then somebody duplicated it.”
Daniel stood by the door while I examined the empty drawer where Samuel’s investigative report had been stored.
“What exactly was in it?” I asked.
Arthur sighed.
“Names. Corporate intermediaries. Shipping brokers. Accountants. Politicians who received questionable donations. Samuel believed Adrian was not intelligent enough to build the entire laundering structure himself.”
That sounded harsh.
It was also true.
Adrian was clever when it came to intimidation, social manipulation, and convincing other people he was smarter than they were.
But the network revealed after Samuel’s death had been extraordinarily sophisticated.
International shell companies.
Layered ownership.
False charter contracts.
Insurance subsidiaries.
Somebody else had designed the machine.
Adrian had merely used it.
Arthur leaned against his cane.
“Samuel suspected Conrad Voss.”
“Why did he fire him?”
“He never told me everything.”
That bothered me.
Samuel had prepared for his death with almost frightening precision.
If he suspected Voss, why leave part of the story unfinished?
Mara closed her evidence kit.
“Until we know more, I recommend you both improve security.”
“I’m not hiding,” I said.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
She looked directly at me.
“I asked you not to make yourself easy to reach.”
That evening, I returned to New York for a scheduled meeting with Rowan-Anchor’s new banking compliance team.
Daniel insisted on riding with me.
“You realize I survived seven years of marriage to Adrian without a bodyguard,” I told him as our car crossed the George Washington Bridge.
“Your ex-husband used lawyers.”
He glanced toward me.
“Whoever broke into Arthur’s office is escalating.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I believe you.”
The answer surprised me.
Most men in Adrian’s world responded to resistance by explaining why a woman was wrong.
Daniel simply looked back out the window.
“I also believe seat belts work. That doesn’t mean I plan to crash.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
The meeting lasted nearly three hours.
When we finally left the bank, Manhattan was glittering under a cold November rain.
A woman stood beneath the awning across the street.
Bright red coat.
Black umbrella.
Blonde hair.
She appeared to be watching me.
The moment our eyes met, she turned away.
“Daniel.”
“I see her.”
We crossed the street.
The woman began walking faster.
“Excuse me!” I called.
She stopped beneath the lights of a closed jewelry store.
When she turned, I recognized her.
Lillian Mercer.
For a moment neither of us spoke.
She looked nothing like the glamorous woman who had fled Arthur’s conference room.
No diamonds.
No designer handbag.
No perfect waves.
Her blonde hair was pulled into a rough ponytail.
Her face looked exhausted.
“I thought you were in federal custody,” I said.
“I made bail.”
Daniel moved slightly between us.
Lillian noticed.
“I’m not here to hurt her.”
“You tried to flee the country,” I said.
“I was terrified.”
“You were carrying bearer bonds.”
Her mouth tightened.
“Adrian gave them to me.”
“Of course he did.”
“I know you hate me.”
“I don’t think about you enough to hate you.”
That landed harder than anger would have.
Lillian looked down.
Then she reached inside her coat.
Daniel immediately stepped forward.
“Slowly.”
She froze.
“It’s just a flash drive.”
She pulled out a small silver device and held it between two fingers.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Insurance.”
“Against whom?”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“Conrad Voss.”
Rain hissed against the pavement.
“You know him?”
“He recruited me.”
My pulse changed.
“For Adrian?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“For you.”
I stared at her.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Adrian didn’t meet me by accident, Emily. Conrad introduced us at a fundraiser eighteen months before your divorce.”
A taxi passed, throwing water against the curb.
Lillian continued.
“He told me Adrian’s marriage was already dead. He told me Adrian needed someone ambitious beside him. Someone who understood finance.”
“You slept with my husband because Conrad told you to?”
Her face hardened with shame.
“At first, I thought I was manipulating Adrian.”
She gave a bitter laugh.
“Eventually I realized Conrad was manipulating all of us.”
She extended the drive.
“There are recordings on this. Emails too.”
“Why give it to me?”
“Because somebody broke into my apartment yesterday.”
Fear moved across her face.
“They didn’t steal jewelry. They didn’t take cash.”
I already knew what she was going to say.
“They searched for this.”
Lillian placed the drive in my palm.
May you like
Then she whispered something that turned the cold rain suddenly colder.
“Samuel Whitlock wasn’t the first person Conrad Voss tried to destroy.”
