Chapter 5 - Bracken Ridge
Leah Moreno hired a forensic accountant named Peter Sloan.
Within forty-eight hours, Peter found something Cole had not mentioned.
Bracken Ridge Consulting existed.
But it had no employees.
No office.
No website.
Its registered agent was a corporate formation service in Delaware.
Its bank account had received $6.84 million from Mercer Residential Technologies over thirty-four months.
Then most of the money moved again.
Three destinations.
A development partnership in Arizona.
A private debt fund.
And a company called Barrett Strategic Holdings.
Evelyn stared at the spreadsheet.
“Barrett.”
Peter nodded.
“Cole Barrett?”
“I’m not prepared to say beneficial ownership without documentation. But the name deserves attention.”
“How much reached Barrett Strategic?”
“Just over two million.”
Evelyn felt suddenly nauseated.
“So Nathan wasn’t stealing.”
“Not necessarily.”
“But his signatures are on the wires.”
“Yes.”
“Can signatures be copied?”
“Of course.”
“What about electronic approvals?”
“We need server records.”
Cole controlled the servers.
Leah leaned back.
“Which means we need either voluntary access, a civil action with discovery, or law enforcement interest.”
Evelyn laughed bitterly.
“Cole knows exactly how far ahead of us he is.”
“He probably does.”
That evening Wren refused dinner.
Evelyn found her sitting on Nathan’s side of the bed.
The brass key hung from a shoelace around her neck.
“Sweetheart.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen properly.”
Wren didn’t answer.
Evelyn sat beside her.
“Adults make mistakes.”
“You told me not to accuse people.”
“You were accusing someone of something serious.”
“Because I heard Dad.”
“What did you hear?”
Wren looked at her.
“Would you believe me?”
The question hurt.
“Yes.”
Wren studied her mother’s face.
Then she said, “Dad and Cole were shouting.”
“When?”
“Three nights before Dad died.”
“Here?”
“In Dad’s study.”
“What did they say?”
“I was on the stairs.”
“Wren.”
“I know I wasn’t supposed to listen.”
“What did they say?”
“Dad said, ‘You moved it again.’ Cole said, ‘It was always ours.’ Dad said, ‘No, you made it yours.’”
Evelyn tried to breathe evenly.
“Anything else?”
Wren nodded.
“Cole said, ‘If you destroy me, you destroy your family too.’”
A cold pressure formed behind Evelyn’s ribs.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The morning Dad died.”
Evelyn remembered.
Wren had come into the kitchen while paramedics were still in the house.
She had been crying and saying, “Cole made Daddy mad.”
Evelyn had told her not to say things like that.
God.
She had forgotten.
Or buried it.
“You did tell me,” she whispered.
Wren’s chin trembled.
“Yes.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t believe me.”
“I thought you meant they argued.”
“I did mean that.”
Wren looked toward Nathan’s photograph.
“I also saw Cole put something in Dad’s drink.”
Evelyn froze.
“What?”
“Not that night. Another night.”
“What did he put in it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Medicine?”
“I don’t know.”
“Powder?”
“No. He opened Dad’s pill box.”
“When?”
Wren frowned, struggling.
“The week before.”
“Did Dad see him?”
“No.”
Evelyn stood too fast.
Wren caught her hand.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell Cole what I said.”
Evelyn looked down.
“Why?”
“Because he watches me when you’re not looking.”
The words chilled her.
“What do you mean?”
“At the funeral. At Grandma’s. Here.”
“How?”
“Like he’s waiting for me to remember something.”
Evelyn knelt in front of her.
“You are never alone with him again.”
The following morning, Cole called.
“You went digging into Bracken Ridge.”
Evelyn’s stomach dropped.
“How do you know?”
“You hired Sloan.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It becomes my business when you accuse the company’s interim CEO of theft.”
“I haven’t accused you publicly.”
“Yet.”
Cole’s voice became quieter.
“You need to stop.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what Nathan was involved in.”
“Then prove it.”
“I’m trying to save his reputation.”
“You transferred money to Barrett Strategic.”
Silence.
Evelyn knew she had hit something.
Then Cole said, “That company isn’t mine.”
“Whose is it?”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“So tell me.”
Instead, Cole changed direction.
“Check your mortgage balance.”
“What?”
The line went dead.
Evelyn called the bank.
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting on the kitchen floor.
A home-equity line she had never known existed had been opened eighteen months earlier.
Balance:
$1.18 million.
Borrower signatures:
Nathan Mercer.
May you like
Evelyn Mercer.
She had never signed it.
