Chapter 3 - The Woman Michael Refused to Believe
Eleanor Walsh arrived the next morning.
She was sixty-three, silver-haired, elegant and visibly furious.
She did not hug Michael.
She walked straight past him and found Noah in the library.
When Noah saw her, he ran.
“Grandma!”
Eleanor dropped to her knees.
She held him for a long time.
Then she noticed the fading mark on his cheek.
Her eyes closed.
Michael stood in the doorway.
“I didn’t know.”
Eleanor rose.
“No. You didn’t want to know.”
The words landed harder because Michael had no defense.
Deputy Cole had taken the flash drive to a forensic technician.
Noah’s camera remained evidence.
Diane had not returned.
Her lawyer had sent a message denying “all fabricated allegations.”
Eleanor walked into the kitchen with Michael.
“When did you hide the drive?”
“Four months ago.”
“You were in this house four months ago?”
“Yes.”
“You told me you were in Aspen.”
“I lied.”
Michael stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because Diane had already banned me from seeing Noah alone.”
“I never banned you.”
“She told me you had.”
Michael’s face tightened.
Eleanor pulled out her phone.
She showed him a message.
Michael, please stop contacting Noah without clearing it through Diane. His therapist believes your hostility toward her is confusing him.
It had been sent from Michael’s number.
Michael read it twice.
“I didn’t write this.”
“I know that now.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
“I never got a call.”
“Because she had my number blocked on your phone.”
Michael looked away.
Eleanor watched him.
“She isolated you very carefully.”
“What’s on the drive?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“Anna gave it to me before she died.”
Michael’s head lifted.
Eleanor continued.
“She asked me to keep it somewhere safe. She told me it contained corporate documents.”
“Why would Anna have corporate documents?”
“Because Anna didn’t trust Eric Sloan.”
Michael slowly pulled out a chair.
His late wife had served as general counsel for Bennett Alpine Properties during its first six years.
She had stepped away when Noah was born.
“What exactly did she say?”
“She said there were vendor payments that didn’t make sense.”
Michael shook his head. “Three years ago?”
“Yes.”
“Eric was controller then.”
“And Diane worked in corporate communications.”
Silence.
Michael felt the room tilt.
Diane and Eric had known each other long before Diane entered Michael’s personal life.
He knew that.
He had simply never considered it important.
Eleanor sat opposite him.
“Anna believed someone inside the company was falsifying invoices through outside vendors. She was too sick to pursue it.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She tried.”
“I would remember.”
“She told me you said Eric had already explained the discrepancies.”
Michael remembered.
A hospital room.
Anna weak from chemotherapy.
Papers on her blanket.
Michael exhausted, terrified, refusing to discuss work beside her deathbed.
He had kissed her forehead and said, Eric handled it.
He had taken the folder away.
He had never opened it.
His throat tightened.
“I thought she was worrying because the medication made her anxious.”
Eleanor’s face softened for the first time.
“Michael.”
“I dismissed her.”
“Yes.”
The same pattern.
Anna.
Noah.
Warnings placed directly in his hands.
Michael stood so quickly the chair scraped across stone.
He walked to the window.
Outside, the red sled still lay partly buried in snow near the service shed.
“I did this.”
“You didn’t hit Noah.”
“I left him with someone who did.”
“You made mistakes.”
“I defended her.”
“Yes.”
He turned.
Eleanor did not rescue him from it.
That was why he trusted her now.
“What did Diane know about the drive?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“I think she knew Anna had kept copies.”
“Why?”
“Because four months ago, someone broke into my house in Denver.”
Michael turned fully.
“What?”
“Nothing obvious was stolen.”
“Did you call police?”
“Yes. They found no useful prints.”
“And then?”
“I became afraid the drive was what they wanted.”
“So you brought it here?”
“I knew Anna’s hiding place.”
Michael rubbed a hand across his jaw.
“You hid it in the cabinet.”
“Yes.”
“Did Diane see you?”
“I don’t know.”
His phone rang.
His corporate lawyer, Melissa Grant.
Michael answered.
Her voice was tense.
“Where are you?”
“At the chalet.”
“Is Diane with you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Michael looked at Eleanor.
“What happened?”
Melissa inhaled.
“The board just received a letter from Diane’s attorney.”
Michael’s stomach tightened.
“What kind of letter?”
“She is accusing you of domestic violence.”
Eleanor went still.
Melissa continued.
“She claims you threatened her last night, physically blocked her from leaving the property and created an unsafe environment.”
“That’s insane.”
“She also attached a photograph of bruising on her wrist.”
“I never touched her.”
“There’s more.”
Michael’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Say it.”
“She informed the board that you are emotionally unstable and may have authorized irregular payments through three shell vendors.”
Michael said nothing.
May you like
Melissa’s voice lowered.
“Michael, those transfers bear your digital signature.”
