Chapter 8 - The Hospital That Never Opened
The Children's Horizon Project had begun as Lauren's dream.
Not mine.
She wanted to build specialized technology centers inside pediatric hospitals so seriously ill children could attend virtual classrooms, communicate with friends, and continue learning during treatment.
I had initially considered the proposal too expensive.
Lauren had disagreed.
"Children don't get to postpone being children until they're healthy," she told me.
I remembered that argument.
We were sitting at the kitchen island.
She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt.
Jordan and Justin were asleep upstairs.
I had spent the day negotiating a billion-dollar licensing deal.
She had spent hers visiting children undergoing cancer treatment.
"You spend more money entertaining potential investors," she said, "than I'm asking you to spend giving sick children a connection to the outside world."
I had laughed.
"That's not a fair comparison."
She had leaned across the counter.
"Then stop making it one."
Three weeks later, I approved the foundation's initial funding.
Forty-eight million dollars.
A year afterward, the project was announced as a major philanthropic success.
But Lauren died before the first center opened.
And somehow, despite the funding, none of the planned hospital installations had been completed.
At the time, I assumed the delays involved construction permits and procurement issues.
Now I wasn't sure.
Thomas Keene sat across from me at the study table.
Marcus stood beside the window.
Annie was upstairs with the boys.
I had asked her to remain at the house.
I had also asked Marcus to assign two independent security officers to the property.
Rebecca's access had been suspended.
But we hadn't confronted her.
Not yet.
Keene opened a file.
"Mr. Morrison, how closely did you oversee the Children's Horizon Project?"
"Financial approval."
"Nothing beyond that?"
"My wife handled the foundation."
He nodded.
"Who approved the vendors?"
"Lauren's team."
"And final payment authorization?"
I frowned.
"Corporate finance."
"Who supervised corporate finance?"
I knew the answer.
"Charles Voss."
Keene turned the file toward me.
"This is the list of vendors paid during the first year."
I scanned the page.
Sixteen companies.
Medical systems integrators.
Educational software contractors.
Equipment suppliers.
One name caught my attention.
Northbridge Research Holdings.
The same company that owned the black sedan.
"How much?"
Keene tapped the document.
"Eleven point eight million."
I looked up.
"For what?"
"Secure communications infrastructure."
"Northbridge doesn't build hospital networks."
"Exactly."
I stared at the page.
"What happened to the money?"
Keene flipped to another document.
"It was transferred through three intermediaries."
"Where did it end up?"
"Most of it went into an overseas account controlled by an entity called Meridian Trust Services."
I frowned.
"I've never heard of it."
"Neither had we."
He pushed another page toward me.
"Until we found a director's signature."
I looked down.
Rebecca Vale.
My stomach tightened.
"Rebecca?"
Keene nodded.
"She appears to have had financial authority over one of the receiving entities."
"How?"
"That's what we're trying to establish."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Rebecca was Lauren's assistant."
"An assistant with access to project schedules, correspondence, signatures, and vendor contacts."
I stared at him.
"Are you telling me she stole eleven million dollars?"
"I'm telling you that's one possibility."
"What's another?"
He hesitated.
"That she was helping move considerably more than eleven million."
I felt sick.
"How much more?"
"We haven't determined the full amount."
He paused.
"But preliminary records suggest that Children's Horizon wasn't the only project involved."
Marcus stepped forward.
"Daniel, there's a second issue."
"What?"
"Northbridge was also providing security technology to several facilities overseas."
"What facilities?"
"Research centers."
"Medical?"
"Some."
"And the others?"
Marcus exchanged a look with Keene.
"Private laboratories."
I felt a chill.
"What kind of research?"
Keene answered carefully.
"We don't know yet."
I looked at the documents.
A philanthropic project.
A dormant subsidiary.
A shell company.
Millions of dollars.
Lauren's death.
The pieces were beginning to connect, but the picture remained incomplete.
"Did Lauren discover this?"
Keene nodded.
"Based on her recovered drafts, it appears she had been auditing vendors for several months."
"Did she confront Charles?"
"We believe so."
"Rebecca?"
"Possibly."
I looked at Lauren's handwriting on the note.
The children matter most.
I finally understood that the message might have two meanings.
She was protecting our sons.
But perhaps she had also discovered that money meant for sick children was being diverted.
And that had been something Lauren would never ignore.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Charles.
Are you coming?
I showed Keene.
He studied it.
"Don't reply yet."
"Why?"
"We need to decide how to handle the meeting without exposing you."
I looked toward the doorway.
Annie stood there.
She had heard enough to understand something serious was happening.
"Mr. Morrison?"
"Yes?"
"Jordan is asking for you."
I closed the folder.
"Is he upset?"
"Not exactly."
She hesitated.
"He says he remembered something about the blue birds."
I looked at Keene.
Then stood.
Upstairs, Jordan was sitting on the carpet beside Lauren's old jewelry box.
Justin sat beside him holding the framed beach photograph.
Jordan looked up.
"Daddy?"
"I'm here."
He pointed to the three carved birds along the frame.
"Mommy said they were a team."
I knelt.
"A team?"
He nodded.
"Three birds."
"What did she mean?"
"One flies."
He touched the first bird.
"One watches."
He touched the second.
"And one remembers."
He touched the third.
I stared at the frame.
Lauren had always loved puzzles.
She used to hide birthday clues around the house.
The twins were too young to solve most of them, but they loved watching me struggle.
"Did Mommy tell you anything else?"
Jordan nodded.
"She said the remembering bird stays home."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Stays home where?"
He pointed to the picture.
"Where we were happy."
Nantucket.
Our beach house.
The photograph had been taken there.
I stood.
"Marcus."
He appeared at the doorway.
"Yes?"
"Call the caretaker at Nantucket."
"Why?"
I looked at the frame.
"Because Lauren left us a clue."
And just as Marcus reached for his phone, a message appeared on mine.
It came from an unfamiliar number.
A photograph of our Nantucket house.
Taken that afternoon.
The front door stood open.
May you like
Beneath it was a short message.
SOMEONE GOT THERE FIRST.
