Chapter 7: The Accountant and the Attorney
I spent the next four days inside the Hale estate being a very good wife.
I was quiet.
I was agreeable.
I helped Brenda plan a dinner for eight of Derek's business associates.
I asked Derek questions about his work that made him feel important.
I laughed at the right moments.
And every night, after Derek fell asleep, I sat in the bathroom with the door locked and worked.
Miriam's accountant was a man named Gerald Foss.
He was sixty-three, semi-retired, and when I called him he remembered the Hale case without needing to look it up.
"I told her she had a strong case," he said.
"I was sorry when she walked away from it."
"She was threatened," I said.
"I know," he said.
"I suspected as much at the time."
"I have the same records she had," I said.
"Plus a recorded conversation between Derek and his mother discussing the financial strategy.
And I have a second potential witness."
A pause.
"How long have you been married?" Gerald asked.
"Five days," I said.
A longer pause.
"What do you want to do?" he said.
"I want to document everything before I leave," I said.
"I want it done properly.
I want it to be something that can't be dismissed."
"You'll need an attorney," Gerald said.
"Not just an accountant."
"I know.
Do you have someone you trust?"
He gave me a name.
Patricia Vane.
Family law and financial fraud, twenty-two years of practice, an office forty minutes from the estate.
I called Patricia the next morning while Derek was in a meeting with his property manager.
She listened to everything without interrupting.
When I finished she was quiet for a moment.
"You're still in the house," she said.
"Yes."
"Is that safe?"
I thought about the lock.
About Brenda picking up my phone in the study.
"For now," I said.
"They think I've settled in.
They think the first day was a test and I passed it by not leaving."
"Have you given them any reason to think otherwise?"
"No."
"Good." A pause.
"Chloe, what you've described — the pattern across multiple women, the recorded conversation, the financial transfers — this is not just a divorce case.
This is potentially fraud.
Possibly conspiracy."
"I know."
"That changes the scope of what we're doing."
"I know that too," I said.
"I'm not asking you to protect me from a bad marriage.
I'm asking you to help me end this in a way that means they can't do it to anyone else."
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"Send me the recording tonight," she said.
"And Gerald's documentation.
I'll review everything and call you tomorrow."
I sent the files from a new email address I had created on my phone.
A name Derek had never seen.
A password no one in that house could guess.
Patricia called the next morning at seven forty-five.
"The recording is usable," she said.
"Gerald's documentation is solid.
With Miriam's records and Carol's testimony, we have enough to go to the district attorney's office."
My hand was steady on the phone.
"How long will it take to build the case?" I said.
"That depends on how much longer you're willing to stay in that house."
I looked at the closed bedroom door.
Derek was downstairs.
I could hear the coffee machine running.
"One more week," I said.
"I need one more week."
"Why?"
"Because there's something else in this house," I said.
"Something I haven't found yet.
And I think it's the piece that ties everything together."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because Brenda looked at me on the first day like I was a problem she hadn't finished solving," I said.
"And she hasn't stopped looking at me that way since."
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"Be careful," she said.
"I will."
I ended the call and opened the bedroom door.
Derek was at the bottom of the stairs with two cups of coffee, smiling up at me like a man who had everything exactly where he wanted it.
"Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," I said.
May you like
I walked down and took the cup from his hand.
And I smiled.
