Chapter 23 - The Witness Who Disappeared
The news reached me before breakfast.
Daniel Reed was missing.
His attorney called at 6:40 in the morning.
Daniel hadn't appeared for a scheduled meeting.
His phone was going directly to voicemail.
The hotel where he'd been staying confirmed he had checked out unexpectedly.
No one knew where he'd gone.
I stood in the kitchen holding my phone while David prepared coffee.
"Has the police department been notified?" I asked.
"Yes," Reed's attorney answered. "And the investigators handling the warehouse matter have been informed."
"Was there evidence of violence?"
"Not that we know of."
"Then let's avoid assumptions."
That was easier to say than to believe.
A former warehouse supervisor had testified against an influential businessman.
Twenty-four hours later, he had vanished.
I looked toward David.
He understood my expression immediately.
"What happened?"
"Daniel Reed can't be located."
David set down the coffee pot.
"Does anyone know whether he's safe?"
"Not yet."
We spent the morning responding to calls from Rebecca, the independent custodian, and the foundation's legal team.
I resisted the urge to investigate Reed's disappearance myself.
If law enforcement was handling a potential safety threat, amateur interference could make things worse.
Instead, I focused on what we could control.
Protecting our staff.
Preserving evidence.
Keeping the foundation operating.
By noon, however, another problem emerged.
Chloe Vance had agreed to provide a sworn statement through her attorney.
She arrived at Rebecca's office looking very different from the woman who had once occupied the Lake Shore Drive penthouse.
Gone were the designer sunglasses.
The expensive jewelry.
The arrogant confidence.
She wore a plain blue blouse and carried a worn canvas handbag.
When she saw me, she stopped in the doorway.
"Mara."
"Chloe."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I don't know what to say."
"Start with the truth."
She nodded.
We sat across from each other with our attorneys present.
David wasn't there.
He had deliberately stepped away from any meeting where his family relationship might complicate the proceedings.
Chloe's lawyer explained the scope of her voluntary statement.
Then Chloe began.
"After Andrew lost his position, Julian contacted me."
"Why?"
"He said the company needed help reconciling old executive accounts."
"Did you agree?"
"At first, yes. I thought I could earn enough money to pay my debts."
"Did you know the work was improper?"
"Not initially."
She swallowed.
"He gave me forms to update. Old account permissions. Vendor information. Executive authorizations."
"Did you sign anything on behalf of someone else?"
"Two forms. He said Andrew had authorized them."
"Had Andrew authorized them?"
"I never verified it."
I looked at her.
"You understand that's a serious admission."
"Yes."
She wiped her eyes.
"Then Mercer asked me to use archived signature images to update records."
"Whose signatures?"
"Andrew's. Frank's."
She hesitated.
"And yours."
The room became silent.
I felt a familiar chill.
Another forged signature.
Another attempt to use my identity as a tool.
"What did you do?" I asked.
"I refused the request involving you."
"Why?"
Chloe looked down.
"Because I remembered what happened in divorce court."
For several seconds, I said nothing.
Then I asked, "Do you still have the communications?"
"Yes. My attorney has preserved the messages and original files."
Rebecca nodded.
Those records would need authentication.
But they were a significant lead.
Chloe continued.
"Mercer was angry when I refused. He said I owed him because he'd kept Andrew from being prosecuted over the penthouse transactions."
"Did he threaten you?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"He said I could lose everything again. He said David's career could suffer if people started examining my family."
I looked at her carefully.
"Did you believe him?"
"I didn't know what to believe."
Her voice broke.
"Andrew taught me that wealthy people could make problems disappear. Julian taught me that wealthy people could create problems whenever they wanted."
I felt no desire to comfort her.
But I understood the trap she was describing.
People who build their lives around powerful manipulators eventually discover that loyalty doesn't protect them.
It merely makes them easier to control.
When the meeting ended, Chloe remained seated.
"Mara?"
I looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
I said nothing.
She continued.
"I knew Andrew was married. I knew he was hurting you. I liked the apartment, the clothes, the attention. I told myself you were cold and boring because that made it easier to take what wasn't mine."
Her tears fell freely.
"I was selfish."
"Yes," I answered.
"I don't expect you to forgive me."
"Then don't ask."
She nodded.
I stood.
"But if you're serious about changing, cooperate fully and accept the consequences of your choices."
"I will."
Outside the office, Rebecca received a call.
Her expression changed from concern to relief.
When she hung up, she looked at me.
"Daniel Reed is safe."
I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Where was he?"
"His attorney says he was moved to a secure location after investigators received information suggesting a threat."
"Why didn't they tell us?"
"Because his safety arrangements are confidential. His attorney has now confirmed he's unharmed and intends to continue cooperating."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time all day, my shoulders relaxed.
Then Rebecca added:
"And the warehouse custodian has completed the first documented inventory of the locked cabinet."
I looked at her.
"The second ledger?"
"Yes."
"What's in it?"
"Original transaction summaries, supporting invoices, and handwritten reconciliation notes."
"Whose handwriting?"
"The examiner hasn't completed attribution."
I waited.
Rebecca's voice dropped.
"But there are signatures on several transaction authorizations."
"Whose?"
"Frank Ellison's."
I nodded slowly.
That wasn't surprising.
Then she continued.
"And Andrew's."
My heart tightened.
Andrew had always insisted he knew nothing about the oldest company schemes.
Perhaps he'd been lying.
Or perhaps he had signed papers without understanding what they meant.
Either possibility carried consequences.
As I drove home, I passed the regional dispatch office where Andrew now worked.
For a moment, I considered stopping.
Then I remembered the letter I'd sent him months earlier.
I owe you nothing. You owe me nothing. Do not contact my office again.
I kept driving.
If Andrew wanted to tell the truth, he could do it through his own attorney.
The next morning, that's exactly what happened.
Rebecca called shortly after nine.
"Andrew Ellison's lawyer has requested a formal meeting."
I looked up from my desk.
"What does he want?"
"To provide records."
"Which records?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"Apparently, Andrew has copies of documents his father ordered destroyed."
I stood.
"Why hasn't he produced them before?"
"His lawyer says Andrew is finally prepared to explain that."
I stared at Arthur's photograph on the mantel.
The man who had trusted me enough to leave behind the truth.
Then I answered.
"Arrange the meeting."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I closed my notebook.
"But tell Andrew's lawyer something."
May you like
"What?"
"This time, I won't accept a single excuse disguised as an explanation."
