Chapter 3: The Missing Money
The bedroom door opened another inch.
Mark stood there.
His face was pale.
“Dad?””
I turned slightly, keeping the phone against my ear.
My attorney was still speaking.
“Richard, are you listening?””
“Yes.””
“Good. I need you to do exactly what I say.””
Mark took another step into the room.
“Who are you talking to?””
I held up one finger.
“Give me thirty seconds.””
He stopped.
My attorney lowered his voice.
“I pulled the trust records after you sent the transfer request. There was an electronic withdrawal six weeks ago.””
My stomach tightened.
“How much?””
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.””
I looked at Noah.
He was watching me.
“Where did it go?””
“That's the problem. It wasn't sent directly to Mark or Claudia.””
“Then where?””
“A holding company.””
“What holding company?””
“It's registered to a man named Daniel Voss.””
The name meant nothing to me.
“Who is he?””
“I don't know yet. But I do know something else.””
My attorney paused.
“The company was incorporated three days before the withdrawal.””
My eyes narrowed.
“That isn't possible.””
“It is if someone had access to the trust account.””
I looked at Mark again.
He was still standing near the door.
“Who authorized it?””
“There was an electronic authorization.””
“Whose?””
My attorney's voice became quieter.
“Yours.””
My blood went cold.
“My signature was forged?””
“It appears so.””
Mark finally stepped inside.
“What happened?””
I stared at him.
He stopped.
“Dad?””
My attorney continued.
“And Richard, there's another issue.””
“What?””
“The authorization was submitted from a device that was physically located at your home.””
I looked around the bedroom.
The walls.
The hallway.
The family photographs.
My house suddenly felt unfamiliar.
“You're sure?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“Six weeks ago.””
Six weeks.
I remembered that period.
Mark and Claudia had spent an entire weekend here while contractors were repairing the guest bathroom.
They had access to my study.
My computer.
My filing cabinets.
My keys.
Everything.
My attorney said, “Richard, I need you to leave the house.””
I looked at Mark.
“No.””
“What?””
“I'm not leaving my grandson.””
“Then at least lock yourself in a room with him.””
I looked at Noah.
His little fingers were still wrapped around mine.
“He's not staying here alone.””
My attorney sighed.
“Richard, please understand. Whoever did this may have access to more than the trust.””
I heard a faint click in the hallway.
I turned.
Claudia stood outside the room.
Her face was carefully blank.
“Whoever did what?”” she asked.
Mark looked at her.
“Claudia.””
She smiled.
“What?””
I stared at her.
“Where is your phone?””
Her eyebrows rose.
“My phone?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because I asked.””
She pulled it from her purse.
“I have no idea what you're doing.””
“Put it on the table.””
She laughed.
“This is absurd.””
“Put it down.””
Mark looked between us.
“Dad, stop.””
I looked at him.
“Your lawyer?””
“What?””
“Who is your lawyer?””
“I don't have one.””
“Then why was a trust transfer request prepared using legal language?””
Claudia answered for him.
“Because I had someone help me.””
“Who?””
She hesitated.
“An adviser.””
“What adviser?””
“That isn't relevant.””
“It became relevant when two hundred and fifty thousand dollars disappeared.””
Mark's head snapped toward her.
“What?””
Claudia went completely still.
I watched my son.
He had no idea.
That was the moment something inside me shifted.
Mark might have been reckless.
He might have been weak.
He might have signed something stupid.
But he looked genuinely shocked.
“Dad,” he whispered, “what did you just say?””
I stared at Claudia.
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was withdrawn from Noah's trust.””
Mark turned toward his wife.
“Claudia?””
She swallowed.
“I don't know anything about that.””
My attorney's voice came faintly through the phone.
“Richard?””
“I’m here.””
“Do not tell them about Daniel Voss.””
I lowered my voice.
“What about the withdrawal?””
“Freeze the account first.””
“I'll do it.””
“And Richard?””
“Yes?””
“Find out whether Noah is the only beneficiary affected.””
I looked at the phone.
“What does that mean?””
“I found another transfer.””
My pulse quickened.
“How much?””
“One hundred and eighty thousand.””
I closed my eyes.
“From which account?””
“Your personal reserve.””
I slowly opened them.
The room seemed to tilt.
“That account requires dual verification.””
“I know.””
“Who else has access?””
My attorney didn't answer immediately.
“Your son.””
I looked at Mark.
He noticed my expression.
“Dad?””
I walked toward him.
He backed up slightly.
“What?””
“You have access to my reserve account?””
“You gave it to me years ago for emergencies.””
“Did you use it?””
“No.””
“Think carefully.””
“I didn't.””
“Three weeks ago, one hundred and eighty thousand dollars was transferred out.””
Mark stared at me.
“I swear to you, Dad—”
Claudia suddenly cut in.
“Maybe the bank made a mistake.””
I turned.
“The bank did not make a mistake.””
She folded her arms.
“You don't know that.””
“My attorney is standing on the phone telling me otherwise.””
Her face hardened.
“Then call the bank.””
“I will.””
She smiled.
“Good.””
There was something in that smile.
Not fear.
Calculation.
I had seen that look before.
Usually across a boardroom table from someone who believed they had already won.
My attorney said, “Richard, we're freezing the accounts now.””
I nodded.
“Do it.””
“I'm also sending an investigator.””
“When?””
“Tonight.””
I looked toward Claudia.
“Good.””
She heard me.
Her smile disappeared.
Mark stepped closer.
“Dad, I need to know what's happening.””
I looked at him.
“You signed the transfer request.””
“I know.””
“You told me you were under pressure.””
“I was.””
“Who was pressuring you?””
He looked at Claudia.
She stared at him.
“Mark.””
He swallowed.
Then he said something I hadn't expected.
“She said if I didn't cooperate, she'd leave.””
Claudia's face changed.
“What?””
Mark looked at me.
“She knew about the debts.””
I said nothing.
“She said she could fix everything.””
Claudia's voice rose.
“Because you were going to lose the house!””
“You were the one spending money!””
“I was trying to keep us together!””
“You were trying to keep appearances!””
“Enough!””
Noah jumped beneath the blanket.
I immediately turned toward him.
“It's okay.””
His eyes were wide.
I lowered my voice.
“Nothing is going to happen to you.””
Mark stared at his son.
His anger disappeared.
He looked suddenly exhausted.
“I didn't know she was going to take money from Noah.””
Claudia scoffed.
“I didn't take anything.””
I held up the phone.
“My attorney has the records.””
She looked at me.
Then at Mark.
Then away.
It lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Where did the money go?”” I asked.
She didn't answer.
“Claudia.””
Silence.
I stepped closer.
“Who is Daniel Voss?””
Her eyes snapped to mine.
There.
That was the reaction I had been waiting for.
Mark looked at her.
“Who is Daniel Voss?””
Claudia shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“You just recognized the name.””
“No, I didn't.””
I turned to Mark.
“Do you know him?””
“No.””
“Have you ever heard that name?””
“No.””
I believed him.
At least that much.
My attorney spoke through the phone.
“Richard.””
“Yes?””
“I've just received an additional document.””
“What document?””
“A wire instruction.””
“To the same company.””
“When?””
“Yesterday.””
My heart pounded.
“For how much?””
“Three hundred thousand.””
Mark went pale.
“Dad…”
I looked at him.
“Where would you get three hundred thousand dollars?””
“I don't know.””
Claudia suddenly moved toward the hallway.
I stepped in front of her.
“Where are you going?””
“To get some air.””
“You're staying here.””
“You can't keep me prisoner.””
“No.””
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my keys.
“But I can keep you from accessing my property.””
I walked downstairs.
Everyone followed.
The dining room table was still set for my birthday.
Six chairs.
Six plates.
A roast cooling beneath silver foil.
The cake sat untouched.
Three candles were arranged beside it.
Someone had placed a card at my seat.
I picked it up.
*Happy Birthday, Dad. Love, Mark.*
I turned the card over.
There was nothing else.
I looked at my son.
“Did you write this?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“This morning.””
I studied him.
Then I looked at the table.
Something was wrong.
The chair where Noah normally sat was pulled away from the table.
His little paper plate was on the floor.
One blue crayon had been crushed beneath it.
I bent down.
Picked up the crayon.
Then I noticed a small smear of red icing on the carpet.
I looked at the cake.
Someone had cut into it.
One slice was missing.
I glanced at Margaret.
“Who took the cake?””
She hesitated.
“I don't know, sir.””
“Who was in the kitchen this afternoon?””
“Mr. Mark. Mrs.
Claudia. And…”
“And who?””
She looked frightened.
“A man.””
The room went silent.
I straightened.
“What man?””
Margaret shook her head.
“I've never seen him before.””
Mark stared at her.
“When?””
“About an hour before you arrived.””
“What did he look like?”” I asked.
“Tall. Dark coat. Brown hair.””
My attorney was still on the phone.
“Richard,” he said quietly, “did you hear that?””
“Yes.””
Margaret looked toward the front hallway.
“He asked to see Mrs. Claudia.””
Claudia's face went white.
I turned toward her.
“Who was he?””
She said nothing.
Mark moved closer to his wife.
“Claudia?””
She backed away.
“Don't.””
“Who was he?””
“Stop asking me questions.””
I saw something on the dining table.
A second envelope.
I picked it up.
This one was handwritten.
No name.
No address.
Just one sentence across the front:
*For the man who thinks his family loves him.*
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
I recognized the location immediately.
My study.
The photograph showed my desk.
My computer.
My locked filing cabinet.
And standing beside it was Claudia.
She was holding a small flash drive.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written six words:
*Ask your son what happened six weeks ago.*
I looked at Mark.
He stared at the photograph.
Then his face drained of color.
“Dad,” he whispered.
“What happened six weeks ago?””
May you like
Mark opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, the lights in the entire house went out.
