Chapter 5: The Man My Father Trusted
By seven the following morning, I was sitting in Jonathan's office with two cups of untouched coffee between us.
He had barely slept.
Neither had I.
A photograph lay on his desk.
It showed an older man with silver hair, a narrow face, and a familiar smile.
I recognized him immediately.
"Martin Cole.""
Jonathan nodded.
"Your father's former financial adviser.""
Martin had been around our family for as long as I could remember.
He used to visit our house on Sunday afternoons. He brought expensive chocolates for my mother and taught me how to read stock reports when I was sixteen.
After my father died, Martin had attended the funeral and delivered a speech about loyalty.
I'd cried when he mentioned how much my father trusted him.
Now I stared at his photograph.
"What does he have to do with the missing money?""
Jonathan opened his laptop.
"Martin's name appears in the corporate records connected to the Delaware holding company. He's listed as a managing consultant.""
"Consultant for whom?""
"That's still unclear.""
He turned the screen toward me.
There were several registered companies.
One owned the Delaware holding company.
Another owned a consulting firm.
A third appeared to have received payments from Whitmore Industries.
The connections were deliberately complicated.
But one thing was obvious.
Martin had access to the structure.
"Did my father know?"" I asked.
Jonathan shook his head.
"Martin left his position two years before your father died. At the time, he said he wanted to retire.""
I remembered something.
"Actually, Dad mentioned him shortly before he passed.""
Jonathan looked up.
"What did he say?""
"He told me Martin had disappointed him. I asked what happened, but he changed the subject.""
Jonathan leaned back.
"Did he explain why?""
"No.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Can we find him?""
Jonathan hesitated.
"We have an address.""
"Then let's go.""
An hour later, we were driving toward a quiet residential neighborhood in Westport.
Martin's house was a large colonial property with a perfectly maintained lawn, white shutters, and a circular driveway.
A black luxury SUV sat outside.
Jonathan rang the bell.
A housekeeper answered.
"Mr. Cole isn't available.""
Jonathan showed her his identification.
"We need to speak with him about a corporate investigation.""
Her expression changed.
"I'll get him.""
We waited in the entrance hall.
Family photographs covered one wall. Martin stood beside my father in several of them.
In one photograph, they were shaking hands at the opening of a new factory.
I remembered that day.
My father had worn a navy suit and looked ten years younger.
Martin had put his hand on my shoulder and told me I was lucky to have such a wonderful father.
I looked away.
Footsteps sounded on the staircase.
Martin appeared wearing a pale blue shirt and dark trousers.
He stopped when he saw me.
"Nia?""
His smile came quickly.
"My goodness. Look at you.""
He extended his arms as if expecting a hug.
I didn't move.
"Hello, Martin.""
He lowered his hands.
"Is something wrong?""
"Yes.""
Jonathan stepped forward.
"We're investigating unauthorized transfers from Whitmore Industries to several companies connected to you.""
Martin's expression barely changed.
"That sounds like a serious accusation.""
"It is," Jonathan replied.
Martin looked at me.
"Surely you don't believe I've done anything improper.""
I placed the photograph of the Delaware company on a nearby table.
"Your name is on the registration.""
He glanced at it.
"Consulting arrangements are complicated, Nia. You know how business works.""
"I know my father's company transferred $1.2 million to a property purchased using a forged version of my signature.""
His smile disappeared.
"Your father would be very disappointed to see you speaking to people this way.""
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Don't use my father to avoid answering questions.""
Martin walked toward the sitting room.
"Come inside. We can discuss this privately.""
Jonathan and I followed.
Martin offered coffee.
I refused.
He sat opposite us.
"Patricia has always been impulsive," he said.
"But she's not a criminal. Perhaps some accounting mistakes have occurred.""
"Four million eight hundred thousand dollars isn't an accounting mistake.""
Martin folded his hands.
"Money moves through businesses. Sometimes transactions appear confusing until the entire picture is visible.""
"Then show me the entire picture.""
He looked at Jonathan.
"I can't discuss confidential client information.""
I leaned forward.
"Who is the client?""
He didn't answer.
I took another document from my handbag.
It was a copy of the property agreement.
"Did you arrange the purchase?""
Martin studied the page.
"Not directly.""
"Who did?""
"I would need to review my records.""
"Of course.""
I stood.
"Then review them. Because the authorities will be asking the same questions.""
Martin's face hardened.
"You should be careful, Nia.""
I stopped.
"What does that mean?""
He rose slowly.
"Your father left complicated arrangements. Some of them may not withstand scrutiny.""
I stared at him.
"Are you threatening my inheritance?""
"I'm suggesting you understand what you're dealing with.""
Jonathan stood beside me.
"That's enough.""
Martin gave a small shrug.
"Your father trusted me with things you know nothing about.""
I turned toward him.
"Apparently, he trusted the wrong person.""
We left.
In the car, Jonathan immediately called the company's forensic accountant.
I sat quietly, watching the houses pass.
Then my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
*You should stop investigating Martin Cole. Your father tried. Look where it got him.*
I read the message three times.
My hands became cold.
Jonathan glanced at me.
"What is it?""
I showed him.
His expression changed.
"Don't reply.""
"Do you think this is Martin?""
"I don't know. But we need to preserve it.""
I took a screenshot.
Then another message arrived.
*Ask Patricia what happened the night your father died.*
My breath caught.
My father had died after suffering a sudden cardiac event at home.
The doctors had said his heart condition was severe.
There had been no investigation.
No suspicious circumstances.
Nothing.
I looked at Jonathan.
"Why would anyone send this?""
He took the phone and read both messages.
"Because they want you frightened.""
I stared through the windshield.
"Or because they know something.""
Jonathan didn't answer.
When we returned to headquarters, Eleanor was waiting outside my office.
She held a thick envelope.
"I found something in the old executive archives," she said.
"What?""
"An expense report from the year your father died.""
I opened it.
The first page showed payments to Martin Cole.
The second showed a payment to a private medical transportation company.
The third contained a handwritten note.
I recognized the handwriting.
It belonged to my father.
*If anything happens to me, make sure Nia sees the original file. Martin must never get access to it.*
I looked up.
"Eleanor, where is the original file?""
She swallowed.
"That's the problem.""
"Why?""
"Because according to the archive records, someone checked it out two weeks ago.""
I turned the page.
May you like
The name of the person who had requested it was printed at the bottom.
Daniel Whitmore.
