Chapter 6 - Nora’s Envelope Contained a Name Reid Didn’t ExpectCamille lived forty minutes away in New Canaan.
She met Reid at the door wearing sweatpants and an expression he had not seen since Nora’s funeral.
Guilt.
“I should’ve given it to you.”
“Yes.”
She flinched.
Reid regretted the sharpness.
Not enough to soften it yet.
Camille opened a small wall safe.
The envelope was thick.
Reid’s name appeared across the front in Nora’s handwriting.
REID — IF I DON’T GET TO EXPLAIN THIS MYSELF.
His hands shook.
He opened it.
Inside:
A certified copy request receipt from a bank vault.
A photograph of Mavis inside Reid’s office.
A printed email chain.
And a handwritten letter.
Reid,
If you’re reading this because I didn’t get the chance to tell you, I’m sorry.
First: I am not telling you I think Mavis will hurt the boys physically.
Reid stopped.
His chest tightened.
Nora had been wrong.
He continued.
I think she believes she is protecting something your father owed her and Nolan.
That may be more dangerous because she can justify almost anything financially.
Reid read faster.
Nora described a conversation she overheard.
Mavis and Nolan in the library.
Nolan discussing the private-equity sale.
Mavis saying:
“Reid will never vote his sons’ shares for it.”
Nolan:
“Then we need someone else holding the proxy.”
Mavis:
“There are ways.”
Nora confronted Nolan later.
He denied meaning guardianship.
Claimed he meant convincing Reid to appoint an independent proxy.
Nora did not believe him.
Then came the unexpected name.
I spoke to Dana Holloway because she processes Nolan’s board documents.
Dana told me Nolan asked her to pull copies of your signature from archived corporate consents.
Reid went still.
Dana.
The notary.
Nora had known.
The letter continued:
Dana seemed scared. She said she refused. I told her to put that refusal in writing. She said she would.
If anything gets filed with your signature after today, find Dana.
Reid stood.
“We need Dana.”
Camille frowned.
“Who?”
“Nolan’s assistant.”
He called her.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
He texted.
This is Reid Mercer. I found Nora’s letter. I need to speak with you tonight.
Three minutes later, Dana called.
Her voice shook.
“Where are you?”
“New Canaan.”
“Are you with Nolan?”
“No.”
“Mavis?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Dana, did you notarize documents using my forged signature?”
She started crying.
“Not the way you think.”
Reid closed his eyes.
“How, then?”
“Nolan told me you had signed before leaving for Chicago.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“You stamped it.”
“He brought me a scanned page.”
“You notarized a signature you didn’t witness.”
“Yes.”
“That is not a small mistake.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
She cried harder.
“Because he said if I refused, I was done.”
Reid looked at Camille.
“Where are you?”
“At my sister’s.”
“Why?”
“I quit today.”
Reid froze.
“Why?”
“Because Mavis called.”
“What did she say?”
“That the camera ruined everything.”
Reid felt cold.
“Everything.”
“Yes.”
“She used that word?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
Dana breathed.
“She told me to delete the draft history.”
Reid looked at Camille.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Can you access it?”
“I downloaded everything before I left.”
Reid’s pulse accelerated.
“Everything what?”
“Emails. Versions. Notes.”
“Nolan’s?”
“Yes.”
“Thomas Keene?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Reid felt something tighten.
“Who created the altered trust clause?”
Dana went silent.
“Dana.”
“I don’t know who typed it first.”
“But?”
“I know who sent it to Nolan.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Thomas.”
Reid stared.
Thomas had told Nora the clause was invalid.
Then later supplied Nolan with a version containing it.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you have the email?”
“Yes.”
“Send it to Beth Kramer.”
“I will.”
Then Dana added:
“There’s something else.”
Reid almost laughed.
There was always something else.
“What?”
“The guardianship petition was supposed to be filed next Monday.”
Reid frowned.
“Why Monday?”
“Because you were supposed to be in London.”
He froze.
He did have a London trip scheduled.
Canceled two days ago because the client postponed.
Mavis apparently didn’t know.
Dana continued.
“The plan was to file while you were overseas.”
“On what emergency basis?”
Silence.
“Dana.”
“They were going to say you left the children without an appropriate caregiver.”
Reid stared.
“But Mavis was the caregiver.”
“Not on paper.”
His stomach dropped.
“What?”
“She planned to leave the house Sunday night.”
Then call authorities?
Report that Reid had abandoned two minors?
Dana confirmed.
“Nolan said Mavis would claim she repeatedly warned you she couldn’t care for them.”
Reid’s hands shook with anger.
“They were manufacturing abandonment.”
“Yes.”
“And the photos?”
“Supporting evidence.”
The spilled food.
Bruise from soccer.
Canceled medical appointments.
Every ordinary childhood mess turned into a file.
Then Dana said:
“There was supposed to be one more thing.”
Reid closed his eyes.
“What?”
“A toxicology result.”
He opened them.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
Reid had never used drugs.
Rarely drank.
“How?”
Dana whispered:
“I don’t know.”
But someone did.
And suddenly Reid remembered a strange appointment Mavis had insisted he attend three weeks earlier.
A “routine insurance physical.”
Blood draw.
Urine sample.
May you like
Arranged through a private clinic Nolan recommended.
Reid’s blood went cold.
Related Stories
