Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Kept Copies
Natalie Price refused to meet me at my house.
She also refused to meet at the restaurant where she had once worked.
Instead, she suggested a twenty-four-hour diner near the interstate.
It was eleven minutes from the motel where I had booked a room.
I arrived at 8:16 p.m.
Natalie was already sitting in a back booth beneath a humming fluorescent light.
She looked to be in her early forties.
Dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail.
A navy cardigan.
A paper folder resting beside an untouched cup of coffee.
She stood when she saw me.
“Lydia?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for coming.”
I slid into the booth.
“Tell me what you know.”
She hesitated.
“Before I do, I need to explain something.”
“Okay.”
“I worked for Daniel Whitmore for four years.”
She wrapped her hands around the coffee cup.
“I was fired in July.”
“Why?”
“Officially, poor performance.”
“And unofficially?”
“I refused to process another payment without supporting documentation.”
I watched her carefully.
“What payment?”
She opened the folder.
“Daniel's restaurant operates through Whitmore Hospitality Holdings.”
“I know.”
“He also has two other companies.”
“Briarwood Residential?”
She looked surprised.
“You know about that?”
“Some.”
Natalie nodded.
“The other company is Whitmore Development Services.”
“What does it do?”
“On paper, consulting and property development.”
“And in reality?”
She looked down.
“Mostly it moves money between accounts.”
I let the silence stretch.
Natalie removed a printed spreadsheet.
Rows of transactions covered the page.
Some amounts were small.
Others were not.
$18,500.
$42,000.
$67,250.
I followed the entries.
“What am I looking at?”
“Transfers from the restaurant operating account to related companies.”
“Why?”
“Some were labeled as management fees.”
“Were they legitimate?”
“I couldn't find contracts supporting them.”
I looked at the dates.
One entry caught my attention.
It was from February.
The description read:
Bennett preliminary acquisition preparation.
I looked up.
“What's that?”
Natalie pressed her lips together.
“That was the first transaction that scared me.”
“Why?”
“Because the attached invoice referenced your father's industrial property.”
My heart began pounding.
“Dad never sold his property.”
“I know.”
“Then what was the invoice for?”
“Preparation of a proposed purchase.”
“Who was purchasing it?”
She turned the page.
A company name appeared.
Eastbrook Commercial Acquisitions LLC.
I had never heard of it.
Natalie pointed to the registered agent information.
“Look at the mailing address.”
I read it.
The address belonged to Ethan's accounting office.
I stared at her.
“Ethan wanted to buy Dad's land?”
“That's what the paperwork suggested.”
“With whose money?”
“The financing wasn't finalized.”
I looked back at the document.
A proposed acquisition price was listed.
$2.4 million.
My father's property summary had valued those same parcels at substantially more.
“That's not even close to market value.”
Natalie nodded.
“I asked Daniel about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me not to worry about matters above my pay grade.”
I gave a humorless laugh.
“Sounds familiar.”
Natalie looked at me.
“Mrs. Whitmore, I know this is difficult.”
“Lydia.”
“Lydia, then.”
She leaned closer.
“I don't think your husband expected your father to die so soon.”
Something about the sentence made me stiffen.
“What do you mean?”
“I think he expected to pressure him into signing a sale or guarantee while he was alive.”
“And after Dad refused?”
Natalie hesitated.
“Then he started talking about inheritance.”
I looked down at the table.
My father's face appeared in my mind.
His tired eyes.
His work-worn hands.
The way he sat on the back steps of the shop, holding that old phone.
He had known people were circling his property.
And he had tried to protect me without making me choose between him and my husband.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Natalie's expression changed.
“Because I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“I processed several early transfers.”
“Were they illegal?”
“I don't know.”
“But you were uncomfortable.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you report them?”
She looked at her hands.
“My husband was recovering from surgery.”
“I needed the job.”
I waited.
“By the time I realized how serious it might be, I had already signed off on transactions I couldn't properly explain.”
Her voice cracked.
“I kept copies because I was afraid Daniel would blame me.”
I understood fear.
Not hers exactly.
But enough.
“Have you spoken with an attorney?”
She nodded.
“Last week.”
“Good.”
I reached toward the folder.
“Can I take this?”
She shook her head.
“These are copies for you to review.”
“The originals?”
“My lawyer has them.”
“Then I'll have Martin contact your lawyer.”
She exhaled.
“That's what I hoped you'd say.”
I took out my phone.
“Would you be willing to give a statement?”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
Then Natalie touched my arm.
“There's one more thing.”
I stopped.
She removed a photograph from the folder.
It showed Ethan at a restaurant table.
Daniel sat beside him.
Marjorie was across from them.
A fourth person sat partly outside the frame.
An older man with silver hair.
I didn't recognize him.
“Who's that?” I asked.
Natalie swallowed.
“His name is Warren Pike.”
“Who is he?”
“He arranges private commercial financing.”
“And?”
“He was involved in the proposed purchase of your father's property.”
I examined the photograph.
Pike wore a dark suit.
His hand rested on a folder.
A familiar logo was printed on its cover.
Ridgeway Commercial Finance.
The same company that had received the forged application.
I looked up.
“Are you saying the lender knew?”
“No.”
Natalie spoke carefully.
“I don't know what the company knew.”
“But Pike?”
She hesitated.
“Pike told Daniel there were ways around an uncooperative property owner.”
A chill moved through me.
“What ways?”
She looked toward the diner windows.
Then she leaned forward.
“He said the easiest route was through the owner's daughter.”
My stomach turned.
“Me.”
Natalie nodded.
“And Ethan told him you would sign whatever he put in front of you.”
I stared at the photograph.
The man smiling beside Ethan looked relaxed.
Confident.
Comfortable.
A man discussing a business opportunity.
Not a man preparing to betray his wife.
Natalie continued quietly.
“He called you the softest part of the deal.”
I looked at her.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding all evening.
“Was there ever a point when Ethan told them to stop?”
Natalie shook her head.
“No.”
I lowered my eyes.
She waited.
Finally, I stood.
“Thank you.”
“Lydia?”
I turned.
Natalie's face was pale.
“Please be careful.”
“Of Ethan?”
“Of anyone who thinks you're about to cost them everything.”
Outside, the parking lot was nearly empty.
I climbed into Dad's truck and locked the doors.
Then I called Martin.
He answered on the second ring.
“Lydia?”
“I met someone.”
“Who?”
“A former employee of Daniel's restaurant.”
I told him what Natalie had shown me.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, there was a long silence.
Then he said, “I need you to do something tonight.”
“What?”
“Don't return to your house.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Don't confront Ethan about the documents.”
“Why?”
“Because if these transactions connect the way they appear to, the estate may not be the only target.”
I looked out through the windshield.
A black sedan had entered the parking lot.
It slowed near the diner.
Then continued toward the highway.
“What are you saying?”
Martin's voice was quiet.
“I'm saying your father may have been investigating an organized effort to obtain his property through misrepresentation.”
I swallowed.
“And my husband was part of it.”
“That is one possibility.”
I closed my eyes.
“What do I do?”
“Come to my office tomorrow.”
“And tonight?”
“Stay somewhere secure.”
I looked at Dad's truck key.
The plastic was worn smooth.
Dad had carried it for two decades.
“I'll be careful.”
“Lydia.”
“Yes?”
“Your father left another message.”
My chest tightened.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you play it this morning?”
“Because he instructed me to wait until you understood what the first recording meant.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“What does the second one say?”
Martin paused.
“It concerns the person who first introduced Ethan to your father's property records.”
I sat perfectly still.
“Who?”
May you like
Martin's next words changed the shape of the entire mystery.
“Your father believed someone inside his own business had been helping them.”
