Chapter 12 - UNCLE CHARLES
Charles Benton had hugged me at Emma’s funeral.
He had carried Noah’s diaper bag to the car.
He had told me, “Family is all that matters now.”
By afternoon, Detective Ruiz and I were sitting across from him in his office on the forty-third floor of Reeves Tower.
He looked sixty but moved like a younger man, always polished, always controlled.
When I said “Graybridge,” his right hand stopped turning his pen.
“That company again?” he asked.
“You know it?”
“I know Margaret mentioned it.”
Ruiz placed copies of the transfers on his desk.
“You approved three internal releases that fed money into Graybridge.”
Charles leaned back.
“I approved thousands of transfers.”
“One happened two days before Emma died.”
His face changed.
Not guilt.
Pain.
“Daniel, I warned your mother this would happen.”
I leaned forward. “Warned her what would happen?”
He looked toward Ruiz.
“I want counsel.”
“Then call one,” she said.
He didn’t move.
Instead, he whispered, “Leonard told Margaret the trust would collapse if Noah was recognized. He said creditors could seize the voting block.”
“That was a lie.”
“I know that now.”
“You helped them anyway.”
“I moved money. I did not hurt Emma.”
“Who did?”
Charles looked at me.
“Leonard hired someone through Graybridge.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“I never knew his real name. We called him Wade.”
Ruiz wrote it down.
“What was Wade hired to do?”
Charles looked sick.
“At first? Watch Emma. Scare her. Get the documents back.”
“And later?”
He looked away.
“Later Leonard said the problem had been resolved.”
I stood so fast the chair hit the wall.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“You held my son at the funeral.”
Charles flinched.
Then he reached into his desk and pulled out an old key card.
“If you want proof, go to Graybridge’s real office.”
He slid the card toward me.
May you like
“Basement level, 214 Mercer Street.”
Then he added, “Go before Leonard realizes I talked.”
