Chapter 8 - The Road to Wisconsin
The police arrived before Julian could say anything else.
By the time officers entered the hallway, both men were gone.
Building security footage showed them leaving through a service exit.
Adrian had driven a dark SUV with temporary plates.
Julian had climbed into the passenger seat.
Morgan watched the footage twice.
She couldn't stop staring at Adrian.
A man she'd mourned.
A man Julian had once described as his closest friend.
A man whose supposed death had devastated their finances.
Now she wondered whether the boating accident had been another carefully constructed lie.
Officer Ruiz took statements.
He confirmed detectives were investigating the necklace.
But he also warned Morgan that the circumstances were complicated.
They had suspicious evidence.
They had threatening messages.
They had a husband who might be manipulating her.
Yet they still needed to establish exactly what crimes had occurred.
Morgan understood.
She wasn't asking anyone to skip the law.
She wanted the truth.
The following morning, she made a decision.
She was going to Wisconsin.
Not alone.
Denise insisted on accompanying her.
Evelyn wanted to come too.
Morgan refused at first.
But the older woman finally said, "Rachel died because I trusted the wrong people."
"Please don't make me sit at home while it happens again."
Morgan studied her.
She still didn't know whether Evelyn could be trusted.
But she believed the grief in her eyes.
More importantly, Evelyn knew details about Adrian and Christopher that might matter.
"One condition," Morgan said.
Evelyn nodded eagerly.
"No more private calls."
"Agreed."
"No telling anyone where we are."
"Agreed."
"And if Adrian contacts you, you tell me immediately."
Evelyn swallowed.
"Yes."
They left Chicago just after sunrise.
Denise drove her blue Subaru north along Interstate 94.
Morgan sat in the passenger seat with Clara's old photograph in her lap.
It showed a much younger Morgan sitting on the screened porch beside her grandmother.
Both held bowls of cherries.
Clara was laughing.
Morgan remembered that summer.
She'd been eleven.
Her parents had just divorced.
She'd cried herself to sleep almost every night.
Clara had never tried to fix everything with cheerful speeches.
She'd simply made room for Morgan's grief.
One evening, she'd told her, "Sweetheart, somebody loving you doesn't give them the right to own you."
Morgan hadn't understood the words then.
She did now.
They reached Sturgeon Bay in the early afternoon.
Peter Callahan's office occupied the second floor of a redbrick building overlooking a quiet street.
He met them downstairs.
Peter was seventy-two, broad-shouldered, and wore the same battered brown leather briefcase Morgan remembered from Clara's funeral.
He embraced her.
"You look exhausted."
"I feel worse."
Peter guided them upstairs.
His assistant brought coffee.
Then he closed the conference room door.
"I spoke with an attorney in Chicago this morning," he said.
"Someone connected to the police investigation."
Morgan leaned forward.
"About the necklace?"
"Yes."
"What did they say?"
"They can't disclose much yet."
"Peter."
He raised a hand.
"But they confirmed your husband has been using multiple business names."
Morgan looked at Denise.
"Of course he has."
Peter opened a folder.
"I started checking records after your call."
He placed several pages on the table.
"Julian Bennett was born Julian Cross."
Morgan stared.
"Cross?"
"His legal name change was filed fifteen years ago."
"Why?"
"Unknown."
Peter slid over another document.
"Before that, he was associated with a property investment company in Indiana."
Morgan studied the name.
Crownbridge Holdings LLC.
Her stomach tightened.
She'd seen that name before.
"Wait."
She opened her email.
Searched the company name.
A result appeared immediately.
Three months earlier, Julian had forwarded her a supposed investment opportunity.
He'd told her Crownbridge Holdings was a company interested in buying vacation properties near Door County.
Morgan looked up.
"He wanted me to sell the cottage to this company."
Peter nodded.
"And Julian was previously connected to it."
"Does he still own it?"
"We're working to establish that."
Morgan stared at the paperwork.
"Why would he hide that?"
Peter opened another folder.
"Because Crownbridge has been associated with several disputed property transfers."
"Disputed how?"
"Allegations of forged signatures, improper notarizations, and deceptive transactions."
Evelyn suddenly spoke.
"Christopher worked with Crownbridge."
Everybody turned.
Her hands trembled.
"Rachel found the name on the documents before she died."
Peter studied her.
"You're Evelyn Ward?"
"Yes."
"Rachel Mercer's mother?"
She nodded.
Peter removed his glasses.
"Clara mentioned your daughter's case."
Morgan stared.
"Grandma knew about Rachel?"
"She did."
"How?"
Peter reached into his briefcase.
He withdrew a thick envelope.
Yellowed at the edges.
Sealed with red wax.
Morgan recognized her grandmother's handwriting immediately.
For Morgan. Only when the time is right.
Peter placed it in front of her.
"Your grandmother asked me to keep this safe."
Morgan held it with shaking hands.
She broke the seal.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
And a small brass key.
Morgan unfolded the paper.
My darling Morgan,
If Peter has given you this letter, then something I feared has finally happened.
I hope with all my heart that I was wrong about Julian.
But if I wasn't, you need to know the truth.
Morgan stopped reading.
Tears blurred the words.
Denise squeezed her shoulder.
Morgan wiped her eyes and continued.
The cottage is not simply a house.
And the land is not the only thing I protected.
Years ago, I was entrusted with records that could expose a group of men who made fortunes stealing from vulnerable families.
One of those men has been watching us for a very long time.
I believe Julian is connected to him.
Morgan stared.
May you like
The next sentence made her feel physically ill.
And I believe your marriage was arranged long before you ever met him.
