Chapter 8 - My Name on the Crime
By sunrise, the assault was almost the smaller problem.
I sat in a conference room at Maya's firm wearing borrowed clothes and a bandage under my blouse. On the wall, twelve forged documents showed my signature.
My name authorized vendor payments, consulting fees, even a Cayman account.
"He built this for years," Maya said.
"Three years," I answered.
Dad stood beside two forensic accountants.
"The signatures are convincing," one accountant said. "Likely built from digital samples."
"Can you prove they're fake?"
"Given time."
Dad stepped closer. "You are not guilty."
"The government doesn't arrest feelings. It arrests evidence."
Maya pointed at the dates. "We prove where Elena was when these were signed."
I looked at the oldest form.
"This one. October ninth. I was at the lake house."
Dad frowned. "Alone?"
"With Julian."
Maya grimaced. "Bad alibi."
Then I remembered.
"No. The caretaker was there that morning. Mr. Bell. He fixed the generator."
Daniel, standing by the door, made a call.
Thirty seconds later his expression changed.
"What?" Dad asked.
Daniel lowered the phone. "Mr. Bell died six months ago."
The room went quiet.
"Natural causes?" I asked.
Daniel didn't answer right away.
"Car accident."
I remembered my brake pedal sinking to the floor two months earlier. Julian had blamed maintenance.
Now I remembered something else.
The night before the brake failure, Julian had insisted on parking my car himself.
I stood too quickly.
"Elena?" Maya said.
"The brakes."
Dad went still.
"What brakes?"
I looked at him.
"I don't think last night was the first time Julian tried to get rid of me."
Before anyone could respond, Daniel's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
"We found the caretaker's accident report."
"And?"
May you like
Daniel's eyes lifted to mine.
"The other driver worked for a Vale Meridian shell company."
