Chapter 7 - VANESSA'S LAST SMILE
Vanessa asked to see me five days after Oliver was born.
My first answer was no.
My second answer was also no.
Then Detective Cole told me why.
“She says she knows who Northstar is.”
I looked at him.
“And she’ll only tell me?”
“She says she’ll talk if you’re in the room.”
Richard immediately objected.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“We’ve had this conversation.”
“Yes.”
“And I have learned absolutely nothing from it.”
“Apparently.”
He sighed.
“But I’m coming.”
The meeting took place in a secured interview room at the courthouse.
Vanessa entered wearing an orange detention uniform.
Without the expensive clothes, jewelry, and carefully styled hair, she looked younger.
More ordinary.
That somehow made what she had done worse.
There had been no monster hiding beneath her skin.
Only a person who had made decisions.
She sat across from me.
Richard remained near the wall.
Detective Cole stood beside the door.
Vanessa looked at my stomach.
Then she realized Oliver was not with me.
“Where’s the baby?”
I stared at her.
“You don’t get to ask about him.”
Her eyes dropped.
For a moment, she actually looked ashamed.
Then it disappeared.
“I didn’t know Preston was going to push you that night.”
“You knew he planned to kill me.”
She swallowed.
“I knew he talked about it.”
“That recording says more than talking.”
“He said a lot of things.”
“And you stayed.”
“I loved him.”
I almost laughed.
“You loved seventy-five million dollars.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You had everything.”
“What?”
“Everything.”
She leaned forward.
“The house.”
“The marriage.”
“The baby.”
“The life.”
I stared at her.
“You were sleeping with my husband.”
“He said he was leaving you.”
“He pushed me off a cliff instead.”
Vanessa looked away.
I leaned closer.
“You stood at the top and asked whether I was dead.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
“I panicked.”
“You walked away.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
Silence.
I refused to rescue her from it.
Eventually, Vanessa looked toward Detective Cole.
“I want protection.”
“From whom?”
“Northstar.”
Richard moved away from the wall.
“Who is Northstar?”
Vanessa rubbed her hands together.
“It isn’t a company.”
“Who?”
“A man named Malcolm Rourke.”
Richard stopped moving.
I looked at him.
“You know him.”
Richard’s face had become stone.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“My former chief financial officer.”
Vanessa gave a small, bitter smile.
“Not former enough.”
Richard stared at her.
“Rourke left Whitaker Atlantic eight years ago.”
“No.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“He left the building.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“What does that mean?”
“He kept people inside.”
Leonard Cross.
Maybe others.
Vanessa continued.
“Northstar was his network.”
“For what?”
“Policies.”
Richard’s voice lowered.
“What kind of policies?”
“High-value ones.”
I felt cold.
Vanessa looked directly at him.
“Policies on people whose deaths could make someone very rich.”
The room fell silent.
Detective Cole moved closer.
“Are you saying Rourke helped people manipulate insurance coverage?”
“I’m saying Preston wasn’t his first client.”
Richard’s hands clenched.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I never met him until three months ago.”
“How?”
“Preston introduced us.”
“Where?”
“A private club downtown.”
“What did Rourke say?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“He said a successful claim depends on three things.”
She raised one finger.
“A believable death.”
A second.
“A beneficiary who looks innocent.”
A third.
“And an insurer too embarrassed to admit its own controls failed.”
Richard’s face changed.
I understood.
If Whitaker Atlantic discovered one of its senior people had been taking bribes to push fraudulent policies through the system, the scandal could destroy public trust.
Rourke had counted on Richard’s company quietly paying claims rather than exposing itself.
“He used the company’s reputation against you.”
Richard’s voice was almost a whisper.
Vanessa nodded.
“Preston said Whitaker Atlantic would pay because fighting the claim would expose the internal fraud.”
I looked at her.
“And Rourke?”
“He wanted fifteen million.”
My breath caught.
“Fifteen?”
“After the payout.”
“What was Preston keeping?”
“Twenty-five.”
“And you?”
“Ten.”
“That only accounts for fifty.”
Vanessa hesitated.
“The remaining twenty-five was supposed to cover debts and other partners.”
“What other partners?”
“I don’t know.”
Richard slapped one palm against the table.
Vanessa jumped.
“You expect us to believe you participated in planning my daughter’s murder without asking who else was getting twenty-five million dollars?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“I was stupid.”
“No.”
Richard stared at her.
“You were greedy.”
She lowered her head.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I asked the question that mattered most.
“Who sent Richard the message?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“What message?”
“The message saying I was alive on Ravenstone.”
Her confusion looked real.
“I don’t know.”
“Was it Preston?”
“No.”
“Rourke?”
Her face changed.
Maybe only slightly.
But I saw it.
“What?”
I leaned forward.
“You thought of something.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“What?”
“Tell me.”
She swallowed.
“Rourke knew about your mother.”
Richard went still.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Vanessa looked toward him.
“The first time Preston showed him your photograph, Rourke said, ‘Whitaker is going to hate this part.’”
No one moved.
Richard stared at Vanessa.
“He knew Madison was my daughter?”
“I think so.”
“Before I did?”
“Yes.”
The answer hit me harder than expected.
Someone had known the truth about me.
Someone had known enough about my mother to connect me to Richard.
Someone had watched Preston build a policy around my death.
And that same person might have sent Richard to save me.
Why?
Vanessa leaned toward me.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The night before Ravenstone, Preston and Rourke argued.”
“About what?”
“You.”
I waited.
“Rourke told Preston the plan was moving too fast.”
“Why?”
“He said, ‘If Madison dies before the child is born, the whole structure changes.’”
I frowned.
“What structure?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did Preston say?”
Vanessa’s eyes met mine.
“He said he didn’t care about the child.”
My stomach tightened.
“And Rourke?”
Vanessa took a shaky breath.
“He said, ‘You should.’”
Before I could ask why, Detective Cole’s phone rang.
He stepped into the hall.
Thirty seconds later, he returned.
His expression had changed.
“What happened?”
Richard asked.
Cole looked at Vanessa.
“Malcolm Rourke was found dead this morning.”
Vanessa went white.
“What?”
“In his apartment.”
She pushed away from the table.
“No.”
Cole watched her.
“You’re certain he was Northstar?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She shook her head harder.
“No, no, no.”
Richard frowned.
“What are you afraid of?”
Vanessa stared at all of us.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Rourke wasn’t Northstar.”
I felt every hair on my arms rise.
“You just said he was.”
“He was part of it.”
May you like
Vanessa’s voice dropped.
“But he wasn’t the one in charge.”
