Chapter 9 - The Man in Gray
We learned the gray-coated man's name from the front gate log: Patrick Ellison, a senior operations officer at the trust's outside accounting firm.
Renee Whitcomb went quiet when Daniel read the name to her.
"Patrick was responsible for reconciling investment instructions," she said. "He resigned yesterday morning."
"Before or after you discovered the transfers?"
"After our compliance team asked him to explain them."
The pattern was getting clearer, but each answer left a worse question. Brandon had persuaded the trustee to accept advisory instructions. Patrick had made them look routine. Gertrude had supplied my forged consent. Somebody still had to move the money.
I found an old photograph of our wedding and stared at Patrick standing at the edge of the crowd. He had been introduced as a friend of Brandon's family. I remembered him congratulating my father, then looking away when Dad asked what he did.
Daniel requested Patrick's communications and the internal review notes through counsel. Meanwhile Marisol helped me list everything we knew, dividing facts from assumptions. It was humiliating to discover how much I'd assumed simply because Brandon had kissed me goodnight.
At four, Gertrude called from a number I didn't recognize.
"Abigail, whatever Brandon did, he was trying to keep the family together."
"You poured oil on the kitchen floor."
A breath caught. "You don't understand how frightened he's been."
"Of what? Being caught?"
"Of losing everything your father made you think was yours alone."
"It was my father's estate, Gertrude. You knew that when we married."
Her voice sharpened. "Your father wasn't the saint you remember. Ask who paid for the house Brandon's father lost."
She disconnected before I could answer.
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Five minutes later, Marisol found a property record showing that Gertrude's old family home had been sold in foreclosure years before my marriage.
The lender who'd bought the debt was called Bellwether Holdings.
