Chapter 7: The Notary Who Didn't Stay Gone
Raymond Chu called at six-forty the following morning.
"The judge reviewed the filing," he said.
"The custody review has been suspended pending a fraud investigation.
Lauren's attorney is appealing, but it will take at least seventy-two hours."
Maya exhaled slowly.
"And the press story?"
"Already being addressed.
The household staff registry is a private document.
Lauren's attorney accessed it without authorization.
That's a separate problem for them."
"What about Victor Sloane?"
A pause.
"That's why I'm calling.
We found the notary."
Maya sat up straighter.
"I thought she moved abroad."
"She did.
Portugal.
But she has a sister in Connecticut, and the sister has been in contact with Raymond's investigator since yesterday afternoon." Another pause.
"She wants to talk."
Her name was Donna Ferretti.
She had notarized documents for Mercer and Vail for nine years.
She had retired, Raymond explained, not because she wanted to — she was fifty-three, healthy, and had intended to work another decade — but because Victor Sloane had given her a choice.
Maya heard this in Raymond's office, seated across from him, with a recorded call playing through his desk speaker.
Donna Ferretti's voice was steady but careful, the voice of someone who had been rehearsing this conversation for a long time.
"He came to my office on a Tuesday," she said.
"He had the document already prepared.
He told me Mrs.
Hargrove had authorized the changes verbally and that the in-person signature had been completed at a private appointment I hadn't been present for.
He said my role was only to confirm the notarization seal."
"Did you know that was improper?" Raymond asked on the recording.
"I knew it was wrong.
Yes."
"Why did you do it?"
A long pause.
"He had photographs," Donna said.
"Of my son.
My son was seventeen.
He'd made some bad choices.
Victor had documentation — I don't know how he got it — that could have sent my son to prison.
He said if I notarized the document and said nothing, the documentation would disappear.
If I refused or told anyone, he would use it."
"Blackmail," Raymond said.
"Yes."
"And the reference letter?
The one that helped you relocate?"
"Lauren Hargrove signed it.
I'd never met her before that week."
Raymond stopped the recording.
He looked at Maya.
"Donna Ferretti is prepared to provide a sworn statement," he said.
"She will testify that the notarization on Claire Hargrove's amended will was obtained under coercion and that Claire Hargrove was not present and did not authorize the changes."
"That invalidates the amended will," Maya said.
"It does.
Which means the original will — the one that protects Noah's trust — is the valid document."
Maya thought about Noah in his hospital bed, his bandaged arm, the way he had pressed his face against her shoulder in the ambulance.
"What happens to Lauren?"
Raymond folded his hands on the desk.
"The fraud investigation is already open.
With Donna Ferretti's statement, the district attorney's office will have enough to bring charges against both Lauren and Victor Sloane.
Document fraud.
Conspiracy.
And depending on what the investigation into Claire Hargrove's death produces—"
He stopped.
Maya finished the sentence.
"Potentially more."
"Potentially more," he agreed.
Her phone buzzed on the desk between them.
A message from an unknown number — different from the one that had called her in the elevator.
She turned the phone so Raymond could read it.
*Tell the old woman to stay quiet.
You have 24 hours to walk away.
Both of you.*
Raymond looked at the message for a moment.
Then he picked up his own phone and dialed.
"This is Raymond Chu.
I need to speak with Detective Okafor." He glanced at Maya.
"Yes, I'll hold."
Maya looked at the message again.
Then she set her phone face-down on the desk.
Twenty-four hours.
Lauren thought that was a threat.
May you like
Maya had been waiting six years.
Twenty-four hours was nothing.
