Chapter 2 - The Account That Didn't Exist
Martin Hale's office was downtown, inside a glass building overlooking the Chicago River.
I hadn't been inside an attorney's office in years.
But I remembered the feeling.
The smell of polished wood.
The quiet carpet.
The framed certificates.
The carefully controlled temperature.
Money always had a way of creating comfortable rooms.
Jared sat beside me.
Lauren sat across from us.
She hadn't spoken much during the drive.
Neither had Jared.
At exactly nine o'clock, Martin Hale entered the conference room.
He was in his sixties, silver-haired, perfectly dressed, and carrying a thin leather folder.
He smiled.
"Mr. Blake."
I nodded.
"Mr. Blake."
Then he looked at Lauren.
"Mrs. Blake."
Something about his expression bothered me.
Not fear.
Not surprise.
Calculation.
"Before we begin," Martin said, "I'd like to remind everyone that certain financial information is confidential."
Jared leaned forward.
"You represented our family."
"Correct."
"My father is the beneficiary of the trust."
"Correct."
"Then he has a right to know where his money is."
Martin glanced at Lauren.
She looked at the table.
That was enough.
I said, "Mr. Hale, I'd like a copy of every document connected to the Blake Family Care Trust."
He hesitated.
"I'll need to verify your identity."
I placed my driver's license on the table.
Then I placed my Social Security card beside it.
Then the original trust notice I had received three years earlier.
Martin's face changed.
"You kept that?"
"I keep everything."
He gave me a strange look.
"Mr. Blake, the trust was established for your benefit."
"Where is it?"
"The funds were distributed."
"To whom?"
"Under the terms of the trust—"
"To whom?"
Silence.
Jared looked at him.
"Martin."
The attorney exhaled.
"Mr. Blake, I believe there has been a misunderstanding."
I leaned forward.
"I've heard that sentence from CEOs, CFOs, controllers, and convicted executives."
Martin blinked.
"I don't mean to offend you."
"You don't."
I pointed toward the folder.
"Open it."
He didn't move.
"Mr. Hale."
Finally, he opened the folder.
Inside were copies of several documents.
Trust formation papers.
Bank statements.
Wire confirmations.
Investment forms.
I picked up the first bank statement.
The account balance was $312,417.
My eyes narrowed.
"When was this?"
"Last year."
"And the current balance?"
Martin looked at Lauren.
She whispered, "Martin."
He didn't answer.
I turned to Jared.
"Call the bank."
Lauren stood suddenly.
"There's no need."
Jared looked at her.
"Sit down."
She sat.
Jared made the call.
I continued examining the statements.
There were monthly deposits of exactly $8,000.
Every month.
For thirty-seven months.
Then withdrawals.
Not $8,000.
Not $7,500.
Larger amounts.
$27,000.
$41,500.
$62,000.
$18,700.
Then a transfer of $140,000.
I tapped the page.
"Who is Northstar Consulting?"
Martin didn't answer.
Lauren whispered, "It's a company."
"Whose company?"
Silence.
Jared's voice became colder.
"Lauren."
She looked at him.
"It's an investment company."
I looked at the statement again.
"Northstar Consulting received $140,000."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Investment."
"What investment?"
She hesitated.
"Real estate."
I looked at Martin.
"Is Northstar a registered investment firm?"
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I continued.
"Who owns it?"
Lauren stood.
"I think we should stop."
"No."
Jared stood too.
"We're not stopping."
Lauren stared at him.
"You don't understand what you're doing."
"Then explain it."
She said nothing.
The conference room door opened.
A young woman entered carrying a laptop.
"Mr. Hale?"
He nodded.
She whispered something into his ear.
His face went pale.
"What?"
She handed him a document.
Martin read it.
Then he looked at me.
"Mr. Blake."
"What?"
"There appears to be an issue with the trust."
"What kind?"
"The account was closed yesterday."
Jared stood completely still.
"Who closed it?"
Martin looked at Lauren.
She looked away.
"The authorized trustee."
Jared slowly turned toward his wife.
"You."
Lauren said nothing.
My heart was beating faster now.
Not because I was afraid.
Because the puzzle was beginning to assemble itself.
I looked at the final bank statement.
The closing balance was only $417.
"Where did the rest go?"
Martin didn't answer.
I pushed the statement toward him.
"Where did my money go?"
He finally spoke.
"Most of the remaining assets were transferred into another entity."
"What entity?"
He swallowed.
"Blake Holdings LLC."
Jared stared.
"That company doesn't belong to Dad."
I looked at him.
"Who owns it?"
Martin's eyes lowered.
"Lauren."
The room went silent.
Jared slowly sat down.
I looked at Lauren.
She was crying.
But I had learned long ago that tears did not prove innocence.
Sometimes they only proved that someone had finally realized the door was closing.
"How much?" I asked.
Lauren whispered:
"About three hundred thousand."
Jared closed his eyes.
I asked one final question.
"Why?"
Lauren looked at me.
May you like
And for the first time, she answered honestly.
"Because I thought you would never find out."
