Chapter 10 - The List of Widows
Lauren Brooks agreed to meet with Detective Mercer.
She also agreed to allow Meredith and me to be present for part of the conversation.
We met in a conference room at her attorney's office.
Lauren was thirty-four, with short black hair and tired eyes.
She wore a navy cardigan and kept twisting a silver ring around her finger.
"I'm sorry," she said before sitting down.
I looked at her.
"For what?"
"For not speaking up sooner."
"You don't even know me."
She nodded.
"That's part of why I'm here."
Mercer introduced himself and explained that she should share only what she personally knew.
Lauren placed a flash drive and a folder on the table.
"I worked as Cedar Bridge's administrative coordinator for four years. I handled volunteer schedules, donor records, and program registrations."
I leaned forward.
"Did you know Hollis?"
"Yes."
"Was he a financial counselor?"
"No."
The word fell between us.
Lauren continued.
"He was registered as an outreach volunteer. He wasn't supposed to give legal or investment advice."
"Did he?"
"Not officially. But people trusted him. He was good at making them feel comfortable."
I closed my eyes briefly.
I knew.
"He asked personal questions," Lauren said. "Sometimes he'd volunteer to help women organize their paperwork at home."
"Was that permitted?"
"Not through our program. Volunteers were supposed to refer participants to licensed professionals."
"Did anyone complain?"
"A few people said he made them uncomfortable. But most thought he was wonderful."
She looked directly at me.
"He brought birthday cakes for children. Remembered anniversaries. Fixed broken appliances. Drove people to appointments."
I felt my stomach tighten.
He'd done every one of those things for me.
Lauren opened the folder.
"About eighteen months ago, I discovered a spreadsheet on a shared computer. It wasn't a normal program file."
She slid a printed copy across the table.
At the top was a title.
CLIENT TRANSITION PROSPECTS.
Below it were columns.
Names.
Ages.
Estimated asset categories.
Family status.
Insurance.
Minor dependents.
The list contained nineteen people.
I found my name on the fourth line.
SLOANE MERRICK.
Next to it:
Widow.
Military.
One minor child.
Potential trust assets.
High-value property.
And in the final column:
Strong candidate. Personal relationship established.
I stared at the words.
I couldn't breathe properly.
Meredith leaned closer.
"Lauren, how did you determine who created this?"
"The file properties showed it originated from an account used by Martin Vale. There were also emails about it."
She opened another page.
The message was dated three weeks before Hollis first spoke to me.
It was addressed to Peter Lang.
The subject line read:
MERRICK PROFILE.
I scanned the text.
Survivor recently registered for group. Familiar with family asset history. Recommended initial contact through H.G. during next Thursday meeting.
I read it again.
And again.
H.G.
Hollis Garrity.
Three weeks before he introduced himself.
I looked at Lauren.
"How did they know I was coming?"
She hesitated.
"Your registration form."
"But that should've been confidential."
"Yes."
I looked at Mercer.
His face was expressionless.
But he was writing quickly.
Lauren continued.
"Peter Lang was listed as an external donor and occasional referral contact. He had relationships with several people at Cedar Bridge."
"Did he have access to registrations?"
"He shouldn't have had unrestricted access. I'm not sure exactly how he obtained the information."
Meredith asked, "Do the emails establish that he received it?"
"They show a message containing your name and details. Investigators will need to verify the source and authenticity."
I looked back at the spreadsheet.
There was another familiar name.
June Halpern.
Her entry had been marked CLOSED.
A third widow was marked ACTIVE.
A fourth had an account value beside her name.
My heart pounded.
"Did you know what they were doing?"
Lauren's eyes filled with tears.
"At first, I thought they were identifying people who needed estate-planning referrals."
"Then what changed?"
"I saw an email discussing referral fees based on access to assets."
Meredith sat forward.
"Do you have that?"
Lauren nodded.
"Yes."
She slid over another page.
The message appeared to discuss compensation for successful client conversions.
A portion referenced financial accounts under the control of newly appointed representatives.
I read it once.
Then looked away.
I didn't need to understand every line to recognize the danger.
Lauren spoke quietly.
"I reported the spreadsheet to the executive director."
"What happened?"
"She said she would investigate."
"Did she?"
"She suspended Hollis's volunteer privileges while they reviewed the matter."
I stared.
"When?"
"Six weeks before your wedding."
I felt the room shift.
"He was suspended?"
"Yes."
"He never told me."
Lauren shook her head.
"He stopped coming to the center. I assumed you knew."
I thought of Hollis spending more time at home.
He'd said the nonprofit was restructuring.
He'd said he wanted to focus on our wedding.
I'd been touched.
Now every memory seemed to carry a second meaning.
"Why did you leave?" I asked.
Lauren looked at Mercer.
"After I raised concerns, some records disappeared from the shared drive. I was told to stop asking questions because I was making unfounded accusations."
"By whom?"
She named a senior administrator.
Mercer wrote it down.
"Did you keep the original files?"
"I retained copies of documents I believed showed potential misconduct. I understand there may be questions about how I preserved them."
Her attorney spoke for the first time.
"We'll address that through the appropriate legal process. Our client wants to cooperate."
Mercer nodded.
"We'll need to examine the records and verify their origin."
I looked at Lauren.
"Why contact me now?"
Her fingers stopped moving around the ring.
"Because I saw the news about your wedding."
My stomach tightened.
"What news?"
"A guest posted a short video online. It shows you carrying your daughter past the wedding guests."
I hadn't known.
Lauren continued.
"People were arguing in the comments. Some said you embarrassed your fiancé. Some accused your daughter of ruining the ceremony."
I felt a flash of anger.
Then Lauren said, "I watched the video without sound."
She swallowed.
"Your daughter was holding an empty flower basket against her chest, and she looked terrified."
My throat tightened.
Lauren looked down.
"I knew I couldn't keep quiet."
For a while, nobody spoke.
Then she opened her handbag and removed a photograph.
It showed a little boy standing beside a Christmas tree.
He wore green pajamas and held a toy train.
"That's my son," she said.
"He's beautiful."
"He's seven."
She looked at me.
"When I imagined somebody telling him he was the reason I would be alone forever, I knew I had to call you."
I reached across the table.
"Thank you."
She took my hand.
Her eyes filled.
"I should have said something before."
"You said something now."
After the meeting, Mercer arranged to evaluate the electronic records and coordinate with appropriate investigators.
Meredith and I walked to the parking lot.
Neither of us spoke until we reached my car.
Then I leaned against the door.
"He knew."
Meredith looked at me.
"Who?"
"Hollis."
I could barely form the words.
"He knew about Abel. About Wren. About the money. Before we ever met."
Meredith nodded.
"The records suggest planning before the relationship began. They still need to be authenticated."
I stared at the sky.
Two years.
Two years of breakfast conversations.
Birthday dinners.
Family photographs.
Bedtime stories.
A proposal beside a mountain lake.
I'd believed I was watching a relationship grow.
What if he'd been watching an investment mature?
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
Meredith waited.
When I finally spoke, my voice was shaking.
"Do you know what he did on the first anniversary of our relationship?"
She shook her head.
"He took Wren to a craft store. Let her choose paper and ribbons. Then he helped her make a scrapbook of our first year together."
I closed my eyes.
"She put a photograph of Abel on the first page."
Meredith watched me.
"Hollis asked her to move it."
My voice cracked.
"He told her the book was about our future."
I remembered Wren looking confused.
I remembered saying, "Honey, Hollis is right. Maybe we can keep Daddy's pictures in a separate album."
I had said that.
Not Hollis.
Me.
I'd helped him make my daughter believe that remembering her father was somehow disloyal to me.
I bent forward and covered my face.
Meredith stood beside me without speaking.
When I finally straightened, I knew what I needed to do.
Not as an officer.
Not as a trustee.
As a mother.
I needed to apologize to my daughter.
Not because I'd failed to predict everything Hollis would do.
But because there were moments when I'd heard her uncertainty and hadn't understood what she was trying to tell me.
That evening, I sat on Wren's bed.
She was drawing a picture.
Two people stood beneath a huge yellow sun.
One wore a blue uniform.
The other had a long purple dress.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"You and me."
I smiled.
"Why am I so tall?"
"Because you're the mom."
"And why are you wearing purple?"
"Because it's my picture."
I laughed softly.
Then I grew serious.
"Wren, can I tell you something?"
She put down her crayon.
"Okay."
"Remember when we made that scrapbook with Hollis?"
She nodded.
"And you wanted to put Daddy's picture on the first page?"
She looked down.
"Yes."
"I told you to move it."
She nodded again.
I took her hand.
"I was wrong."
Her eyes widened.
"You were?"
"Yes."
"How come?"
"Because I was trying to make Hollis happy, and I didn't understand that I was hurting you."
She stared at me.
"I'm sorry, baby."
Her lip trembled.
"You don't have to be sorry."
"I do when I make a mistake."
She thought about that.
Then whispered, "I didn't really want to move Daddy."
"I know."
"I thought maybe you didn't like looking at him anymore."
Tears burned my eyes.
"Oh, Wren."
I pulled her into my arms.
"I love looking at your daddy."
"Even when you cry?"
"Even then."
She stayed quiet for a long time.
Then asked, "Can we make a new scrapbook?"
I smiled through my tears.
"Yes."
"With Daddy on the first page?"
"Absolutely."
"And us on the next one?"
"Yes."
"And Aunt Delma and Uncle Thomas?"
"Of course."
She thought about it.
"And maybe no Hollis?"
I kissed her forehead.
"No Hollis."
She nodded.
Then she looked up at me.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Did you know that Hollis kept a little notebook about me?"
I froze.
"What notebook?"
She tilted her head.
"The brown one."
I stared at her.
"What did he write in it?"
"I don't know all the words."
She frowned.
"But I saw him write down how long you were gone when you went to work."
A chill ran down my spine.
"And how many times I asked about Daddy."
I felt my hands go cold.
"Where did you see this notebook?"
"In his desk."
I swallowed.
"Do you remember anything else?"
Wren nodded.
"There was a page with my name on it."
I waited.
May you like
She looked directly at me.
"And under my name, he wrote something about making me stop."
