Chapter 11 - The Safe Behind the PaintingThomas Keller disappeared before police reached his office.
His assistant claimed he had received a phone call, canceled every appointment, and left carrying one leather briefcase.
He shut off his phone twelve minutes later.
Detective Ward issued an alert.
Richard returned home with Maria while Ethan remained under observation.
The house felt poisoned.
Every room contained some memory of Vanessa.
Her perfume near the staircase.
Her coat in the foyer.
A photograph of their wedding over the fireplace.
Richard stopped in front of it.
Nathan stood beside him in the picture.
Thomas Keller stood behind them.
Maria saw Richard looking.
“You couldn't have known.”
“I should have.”
“You trusted people.”
“I ignored people.”
Maria didn't answer.
He looked at her bruised cheek.
“You warned me about Vanessa.”
“I said she and Ethan were having problems.”
“I dismissed you.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you stay?”
“For Ethan.”
Richard nodded.
He suspected the answer.
It still hurt.
Detective Ward entered carrying gloves.
“We have authorization to search Vanessa's private office.”
Richard pointed upstairs.
“She uses the sitting room beside our bedroom.”
The room looked ordinary.
Expensive.
Controlled.
Vanessa's desk held neatly arranged stationery and a silver-framed photograph of Ethan.
Ward examined the picture.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“She displayed him prominently.”
Maria looked away.
Ward searched the desk.
Nothing.
Closet.
Nothing.
Laptop.
Removed earlier by police.
Richard paced.
“There's nothing here.”
Maria stood near the far wall.
Her eyes stopped on a painting.
A large abstract piece Vanessa had purchased two years earlier.
“Was that always there?”
Richard looked.
“Yes.”
“Before Vanessa?”
“No.”
Maria approached.
Something about the frame bothered her.
It sat too far from the wall.
She lifted one side.
The painting swung outward.
Behind it was a digital safe.
Richard stared.
“I didn't know that existed.”
Ward put on gloves.
“Don't touch it.”
A forensic technician photographed everything.
They tried common codes.
Nothing.
Richard suddenly remembered Vanessa's red phone passcode.
Four digits.
He gave it to Ward.
The safe opened.
Inside were documents.
Cash.
A passport.
A second passport bearing Vanessa's photograph but a different last name.
And a flash drive.
Richard felt sick.
Ward removed the documents carefully.
One file carried Claire's name.
Richard reached instinctively.
Ward stopped him.
“Let me.”
She opened it.
Claire Cole.
Insurance documents.
Vehicle maintenance records.
Medical reports.
Accident photographs.
Maria covered her mouth.
Richard whispered, “Why does Vanessa have this?”
Ward didn't answer.
Another folder.
Richard Cole.
Life insurance policies.
Business holdings.
Trust documents.
Ethan's name appeared repeatedly.
Ward flipped to a marked page.
A recent amendment had been drafted but never signed.
If Richard died before Ethan reached eighteen, control of several family assets would transfer to a trustee.
Thomas Keller.
If Ethan also died or became legally incapacitated, authority over Richard's private holdings would pass to his surviving spouse.
Vanessa.
Richard stared.
“She was trying to change my trust.”
“Drafting isn't changing,” Ward said.
“She never discussed this with me.”
Maria looked at another sheet.
“What's that?”
A transfer schedule.
Millions of dollars routed through shell companies.
One company name appeared repeatedly.
Northstar Consulting.
Ward photographed it.
Richard frowned.
“Nathan has a subsidiary called Northstar.”
The flash drive was sent to the forensic team.
Ward continued searching.
Behind the cash lay a small velvet bag.
Inside was an old silver bracelet.
Richard stopped breathing.
Maria gasped.
“What?”
Richard took one involuntary step forward.
“That was Claire's.”
Ward looked at him.
“You're sure?”
“She wore it every day.”
Maria's face changed.
“The police never found it.”
Richard remembered.
Claire's personal effects had been returned after the crash.
Wedding ring.
Watch.
Earrings.
But the bracelet had been missing.
They assumed it had been lost at the scene.
Richard whispered,
“Vanessa never met Claire.”
Ward looked at the bracelet.
Then toward the accident folder.
“Apparently she knew more about her than you've been told.”
A technician appeared in the doorway.
“Detective?”
Ward turned.
“We got into the flash drive.”
“That fast?”
“No encryption.”
“What is it?”
The technician's face was grim.
“Audio files.”
Richard's hands went cold.
“How many?”
“Seventeen.”
“Of what?”
The technician looked directly at him.
“Your first wife.”
Richard could barely speak.
“Claire?”
May you like
The technician nodded.
“The earliest recording is dated four months before she died.”
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