Chapter 4 - The Perfect Scapegoat
Claire spent seven hours inside an interview room.
Charles never called.
Neither did Rebecca.
Madison sent one text.
Dad says you’ve been stealing from the company for years. Tell me that isn’t true.
Lauren sent nothing.
Emily sent five messages.
Where are you?
Are you okay?
I don’t believe him.
Please answer.
Claire?
Dominic sent a lawyer.
Not just any lawyer.
Naomi Grant had represented governors, CEOs, two senators, and at least one man everyone knew had ordered murders but nobody could prove it.
By noon, Claire was released pending further investigation.
Outside, reporters were waiting.
Someone had leaked everything.
“Claire! Did you steal from your father?”
“Claire, were you planning to leave the country?”
“Ms. Whitmore, did Dominic Vale help you move the money?”
Dominic’s SUV stopped at the curb.
He stepped out himself.
That was enough.
The crowd moved backward.
Claire got inside.
Dominic followed.
For several blocks, neither spoke.
Finally Claire said, “You shouldn’t be seen with me.”
“Why?”
“Your reputation.”
He looked at her.
“My reputation survived worse than a woman accused of stealing money she didn’t steal.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Claire turned.
“How?”
“Because whoever created those transfers made one mistake.”
“What?”
“They made you greedy.”
She frowned.
Dominic continued.
“I spent one evening watching you. You wore a ninety-dollar dress to a forty-thousand-dollar dinner.”
“I paid eighty-five.”
“That supports my point.”
Despite everything, Claire laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
Dominic’s expression softened for only a second.
“Someone moved millions using your credentials,” he said. “But they sent the money into accounts that would be easy for investigators to find.”
“They wanted me caught.”
“Yes.”
“To stop me from opening that locker.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked out the window.
“So my father framed me.”
“I believe so.”
“Because my mother left me part of the company.”
“That may be only part of it.”
Dominic placed the ledger between them.
“I found payments made two weeks before Anne died.”
Claire went still.
“To whom?”
“A company called Harbor Automotive.”
Claire knew the name.
“That was the garage that maintained my mother’s car.”
Dominic nodded.
The air left Claire’s lungs.
Her mother’s brakes had failed on Interstate 83.
Charles had told everyone it was a terrible accident.
Claire whispered, “No.”
“I’m not saying Charles caused the crash.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he kill his wife?”
“If Anne controlled forty-one percent of Whitmore Freight and had proof he was stealing?”
Claire shook her head.
“No. He was cruel after she died. He ignored me. He used me. But murder?”
Dominic didn’t answer.
Her phone rang.
Emily.
Claire picked up.
“Emily?”
Her sister was crying.
“Claire, don’t come home.”
Claire sat straighter.
“What happened?”
“Dad is destroying things.”
“What things?”
“Mom’s old boxes. Files. Pictures. Everything.”
“Emily, listen to me. Leave the house.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Emily lowered her voice.
“Because I heard Dad and Richard talking.”
Claire’s hand tightened around the phone.
“What did they say?”
A door slammed in the background.
Emily gasped.
Then whispered:
May you like
“They said they should have handled you the same way they handled Anne.”
The call went dead.
