Chapter 9 - The Christmas Account
Claire wanted to throw Daniel out.
Instead, she asked what the Christmas account was.
He explained that Eleanor used a separate brokerage account to fund year-end gifts for family members and employees.
For decades, the December transactions had been routine.
Then, eleven years earlier, one transaction appeared.
$250,000.
Recipient hidden behind a corporate name.
MERRITT CONSULTING.
Anna flagged it.
Three days later, she quit.
Two months later, she died.
Ethan looked at Claire.
“We are not assuming those things are connected.”
“I know.”
But her voice shook.
Daniel slid over the records.
Claire found the transfer.
December 21.
$250,000.
Authorized by M. Hale.
Margaret spoke.
“You think I killed her because of a bank transfer?”
Claire turned.
“No one said that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you’ve lied about almost everything else.”
Richard stepped in.
“Enough.”
Margaret laughed at him.
“You don’t get to say enough after thirty years of hiding behind me.”
Richard flinched again.
Daniel noticed.
“So she still does that.”
Richard glared.
“Don’t.”
Daniel’s expression softened.
“You always let her make you feel weak.”
Margaret snapped, “Get out of my house.”
Richard looked at her.
“My house too.”
She turned on him.
“Then act like it.”
The old reflex returned.
Richard lowered his eyes.
Claire saw Ethan watching his father.
A terrible understanding moved across his face.
He had spent years becoming the same kind of husband without realizing it.
Avoid conflict.
Keep peace.
Let the loudest person define reality.
Ethan reached for Claire’s hand.
She let him take it.
Then Lauren said, “Merritt Consulting.”
Everyone looked at her.
She had been searching on her phone.
“It still exists.”
“Who owns it?” Claire asked.
Lauren swallowed.
“Peter.”
Uncle Peter.
The man who had sat at dinner two hours earlier pretending not to know anything.
Ethan grabbed his phone.
“He left twenty minutes ago.”
Richard looked toward the driveway.
“So did the black sedan.”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“What black sedan?”
Lauren looked out the window.
“It was parked across the street during dinner.”
Daniel swore.
Margaret whispered, “Peter.”
Claire’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
Margaret moved toward the front hall.
“The ledger.”
They ran upstairs.
The Blue Room door was open.
The shelf was empty.
The black leather ledger was gone.
On the desk sat a single Christmas card.
Claire opened it.
May you like
Inside, in block letters, someone had written:
STOP DIGGING OR ANOTHER BENNETT GETS HURT.
