Chapter 4 - WHAT BROOKE RECORDED
Brooke called me at 6:08 p.m.
This time, I answered.
Not because I wanted to hear her excuses.
Because Detective Morales had told me to let people talk.
“Claire?”
Her voice shook.
“What do you want?”
“You need to undo the freeze.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“You don’t understand what Dad will do.”
That got my attention.
“What does that mean?”
Silence.
“Brooke?”
“I shouldn’t have called.”
“You watched him burn me.”
“I know.”
“You watched Ryan hold me down.”
“I know.”
“You did nothing.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
She began crying.
I felt no sympathy yet.
Maybe someday.
Not then.
“Why was your administrator account used on my laptop?”
The crying stopped.
“How do you know that?”
“Answer me.”
“I can explain.”
“Start.”
Brooke inhaled shakily.
“Ryan asked me to install software.”
“When?”
“September.”
“Why?”
“He said you were planning to leave him.”
My skin prickled.
“I wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“What did the software do?”
“He wanted copies of financial documents.”
I closed my eyes.
“You helped him spy on me.”
“He said he needed proof you were hiding assets.”
“I was not hiding anything.”
“I know.”
“How much money did you take?”
“Claire—”
“How much?”
“Nothing personally.”
“Your name is on Crestmont.”
“That was Dad.”
“Your signature is on the formation documents.”
“He told me it was for taxes.”
A familiar excuse.
Grant said it was business.
Ryan said it was family.
Diane said it was loyalty.
Every crime apparently came wrapped in a respectable word.
“Why are you calling me?”
Brooke whispered her answer.
“Because Dad thinks I’m the reason the transfer failed.”
My anger paused.
“What?”
“He’s blaming me.”
“For what?”
“For everything.”
I could hear movement behind her.
A car door.
Then her voice dropped.
“I recorded some conversations.”
My heart began pounding.
“What conversations?”
“Dad and Ryan.”
“When?”
“Over the last year.”
“Why?”
“Because I started getting scared.”
I sat down.
“Scared of what?”
“Crestmont wasn’t supposed to be this big.”
“What does that mean?”
“They told me it would only hold some consulting payments.”
“And then?”
“Dad started moving money.”
“My money.”
“Yes.”
The word barely left her mouth.
I felt it like a physical blow.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Brooke.”
“I really don’t know.”
“Why record them?”
“Because Ryan started talking about your life insurance.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I stopped breathing for a second.
“My what?”
Brooke began crying again.
“Please don’t make me say this over the phone.”
“Say it.”
“They increased your policy.”
“I never approved that.”
“I know.”
“How much?”
“Five million.”
A cold pressure spread through my chest.
“Who is the beneficiary?”
Another pause.
“Ryan.”
I stood up.
“Where are the recordings?”
“I have copies.”
“Bring them to the police.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“You don’t understand Dad.”
“I understand him better than I did yesterday.”
“No.”
Her voice became urgent.
“You don’t.”
I heard another car door somewhere near her.
Brooke gasped.
“Someone’s here.”
“Where are you?”
“Claire, I have to go.”
“Brooke.”
“If something happens, check the blue Christmas box in Mom’s storage unit.”
“What storage unit?”
The line went dead.
I called back.
Straight to voicemail.
Five minutes later, Detective Morales was on the phone.
He took the information seriously.
Very seriously.
By seven, officers were looking for Brooke.
By eight, her car had been found in a grocery store parking lot.
The doors were unlocked.
Her purse remained inside.
May you like
Her phone was on the passenger seat.
And Brooke Lawson was gone.
