Chapter 8 - The Affair Behind the Theft
Vanessa denied ever being at Cypress Point that night.
Her attorney issued the denial publicly before investigators had announced Eric Sloan’s statement.
That mistake mattered.
Detective Ortiz noticed immediately.
“So either Eric told her,” Ortiz said, “or she already knows exactly what he claims he saw.”
Eric had not contacted Vanessa.
His phone records supported that.
Grant remained unreachable.
His abandoned car at LAX had been a diversion.
License-plate cameras later captured another vehicle registered to his law firm heading north toward Santa Barbara.
A statewide notice went out.
Meanwhile, forensic accountant Naomi Chen found evidence that Seagrass Holdings had paid monthly consulting fees to Grant’s private LLC for eighteen months.
Vanessa and Grant were not merely lovers.
They were business partners.
Michael sat at Laura’s desk late that night.
Maya entered quietly.
“You should sleep.”
“I slept while my wife was begging me to wake up.”
“That won’t help Sophie.”
He rubbed his eyes.
“I keep remembering arguments.”
Maya said nothing.
“I thought Laura was jealous of Vanessa.”
“She wasn’t.”
“I know.”
Maya gave him a look.
He stopped himself.
“I’m trying to understand why Laura didn’t tell me about the affair directly.”
“She tried.”
Michael frowned.
Maya walked to the bookshelf.
“About two months before she disappeared, Laura asked you whether you trusted Vanessa.”
Michael remembered.
He had laughed.
He had said Vanessa was practically family.
Laura had asked whether he trusted Grant.
Michael had become angry.
He accused her of seeing enemies everywhere.
Maya said, “After that, she stopped asking questions you could dismiss.”
Michael stared at the dark ocean.
“She started collecting proof.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you know about the key?”
“Because she told me.”
“And why didn’t you tell me after she vanished?”
Maya was quiet.
“Because she made me promise.”
Michael turned.
“What kind of promise?”
“She said if she disappeared and you still believed she had stolen from you, I was not to open that room.”
His anger flashed.
“That makes no sense.”
“It made sense to her.”
“She was missing.”
“And you were telling police about unexplained transfers from accounts she managed.”
“I was trying to find her.”
“You were also helping them consider whether she fled with money.”
Michael’s face tightened.
“I told them everything I knew.”
“And everything Grant told you.”
He looked away.
Maya continued.
“Laura believed that if you entered the room before you doubted Grant, you would take the evidence straight to him.”
Michael went still.
She was right.
Fourteen months earlier, if he had found those documents, his first call would have been to Grant Mercer.
He would have given Laura’s evidence to the man she was investigating.
Michael whispered, “She knew me.”
Maya’s eyes softened.
“She loved you. That isn’t the same as trusting your judgment.”
The distinction hurt more.
The next morning investigators opened the flash drive from Box 713.
Laura had copied emails.
One exchange between Grant and Vanessa was disguised beneath coded project names.
Naomi decoded the references through transaction dates.
Vanessa: M keeps signing. L is becoming a problem.
Grant: Then make yourself useful. She trusts you.
Vanessa: Not anymore.
Grant: She doesn’t need to trust you. He does.
Michael read the line twice.
Another email appeared six weeks later.
Vanessa: Once she’s gone, how long before he’s functional again?
Grant: You know him better than I do.
Vanessa: Six months. Maybe nine.
Grant: Then don’t rush. Grief creates loyalty if you are patient.
Michael felt nauseated.
His relationship with Vanessa had not happened accidentally after Laura disappeared.
It had been planned.
Vanessa had entered his grief deliberately.
She brought Sophie meals.
She attended Laura’s candlelight vigil.
She sat beside Michael at fundraisers.
She waited nine months before kissing him.
He had mistaken patience for kindness.
It had been strategy.
Caroline arrived carrying another file.
“We have a bigger problem.”
Michael looked up.
“What now?”
“The trust.”
She showed him a notarized amendment filed eleven months earlier.
It removed Caroline as automatic successor trustee if Michael became incapacitated.
It substituted Grant’s committee.
Michael stared.
“I never signed this.”
Caroline tapped the page.
“Your signature is there.”
“It’s forged.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“The notary is real.”
Michael recognized the name.
Sandra Pike.
A mobile notary Davenport Coastal used regularly.
Ortiz located her that afternoon.
Sandra remembered the document.
She remembered the meeting.
And she remembered something else.
“Mr. Davenport wasn’t there.”
Michael’s pulse jumped.
“Who signed?”
Sandra’s face tightened.
“Grant told me Michael had already executed the signature page.”
“That isn’t legal notarization.”
“I know.”
“Why did you do it?”
She began crying.
“Because Grant had photographs of me taking cash from a client.”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“Who brought the document?”
Sandra whispered, “Vanessa Reed.”
Then she added one more detail.
“She told Grant they had to finish everything before Laura came back.”
Michael froze.
“Before Laura came back?”
Sandra nodded.
“The amendment was signed three months after Mrs. Davenport disappeared.”
Michael stared at Ortiz.
May you like
Vanessa had spoken as though she believed Laura might return.
Which meant, three months after Laura vanished, Vanessa may have known Laura was still alive.
