Chapter 7: Everything on the Drive
Grace arrived by mid-morning.
She was taller than Grandma, with the same steady eyes and a canvas bag over one shoulder that she set on the dining table without ceremony.
She hugged my father for a long moment, then crouched down to my level.
"You must be Noah," she said.
"Yes."
"Your grandmother has told me a lot about you." She looked at me evenly.
"You did exactly the right thing last night.
Calling her.
That took courage."
I didn't feel courageous.
I felt tired.
But I nodded.
She straightened up and looked at my father.
"Let's see what Claire left us."
They plugged the USB drive into Grace's laptop at the dining table.
I sat at the far end with Grandma, close enough to watch but far enough that they could speak quietly between themselves.
The drive opened.
There were folders.
Organized, labeled, dated.
My mother had been meticulous.
Grace scrolled in silence for almost two minutes.
"She was thorough," she said finally.
"She was a bookkeeper before Noah was born," my father said.
"She knew exactly what she was looking at."
"These transfer records go back further than the letter indicated." Grace clicked through screens.
"This isn't eighteen months.
This is closer to three years."
My father's head came up.
"That's before we were married."
"Yes."
"How is that possible?"
Grace opened another folder.
Inside were scanned documents.
Account statements.
A company registration.
Correspondence.
She leaned closer to the screen.
"Rowan Hess," she said.
"And a co-signatory on the holding company." She turned the laptop slightly so my father could see the name.
He read it.
He sat back in his chair.
"She was already working with him," he said.
"Before she came into our lives."
"It looks that way."
"She targeted us."
Grace didn't soften it.
"That's what this suggests, yes.
Claire appears to have discovered this approximately eight months before she passed.
She spent the time she had left documenting it."
My father put his hands over his face.
He stayed like that for a moment.
Then he dropped them.
"What do we do with this?" he said.
"We take it to the financial crimes unit.
These records, combined with the account statements, are enough to open a formal investigation." Grace closed the laptop.
"This isn't just a family matter anymore, Daniel.
What she did — what they both did — is fraud."
From down the hall, Karen's door opened.
She walked into the dining room dressed now, bag over her shoulder, car keys in her hand.
She looked at the closed laptop.
At Grace.
At my father.
"I'm going to stay with a friend," she said.
"While things settle down."
"You're not leaving," Grace said.
Karen looked at her.
"Excuse me?"
"You're not leaving this house until we've established the terms of your departure.
If you walk out that door with your phone and your personal devices, we will have a problem." Grace's voice was pleasant.
Completely firm.
"Sit down, Karen."
"You can't tell me—"
"I'm not telling you as an attorney.
I'm telling you as someone who has read three years of financial records in the last ten minutes." Grace pulled out the chair across from her.
"Sit.
Down."
Karen sat.
My father looked at the table.
"I want to know one thing," he said.
"Just one.
Did you ever care about him?
About Noah?
Even a little?"
Karen was quiet for a long moment.
"He reminded me of her," she said.
"Every single day.
I couldn't—" She stopped.
"Couldn't what?"
She shook her head.
She didn't finish.
It wasn't an answer.
But somehow it was enough of one.
My father nodded slowly.
May you like
He looked at Grace.
"Let's finish this," he said.
