Chapter 7 - The Signature After Claire’s Funeral
Daniel stared at the date.
“That’s impossible.”
Michael nodded.
“I thought so too.”
Claire’s accident occurred December 27.
Her death was pronounced at 11:43 p.m.
The property transfer was notarized December 28 at 9:10 a.m.
Either the signature was forged.
Or the timeline was wrong.
Detective Brooks reopened the hospital record.
The body identified as Claire had suffered severe trauma. Identification
relied partly on jewelry and dental comparison.
Daniel whispered, “No.”
Eleanor understood his fear.
Hope could be crueler than grief.
“Do not tell Grace.”
He nodded.
Police contacted the dentist who supplied Claire’s records.
He had died the previous year.
His assistant remembered something.
“The request came through a private investigator.”
“Name?”
“Curtis Hale.”
Vanessa’s brother.
Curtis claimed he had merely handled insurance paperwork.
Nobody believed him anymore.
Brooks asked Vanessa directly.
“Is Claire alive?”
For the first time since Eleanor arrived, Vanessa looked genuinely
terrified.
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t no.”
“I never saw her body.”
Daniel slammed his palm against the table.
“You stood beside me at her funeral.”
“You invited me!”
“You comforted my daughter!”
“I didn’t know then!”
“Know what?”
Vanessa cried.
“That Curtis had switched the identification records.”
Silence.
Even her lawyer looked shocked.
“Why?” Brooks asked.
“Money.”
“Whose?”
“Not mine.”
Vanessa said Curtis had been working with a developer who wanted
Hawthorne Ridge. Claire refused to sell.
After the accident, the developer expected Daniel to inherit control.
Instead Claire’s trust arrangement gave control to Grace.
“So you married Daniel,” Eleanor said.
Vanessa looked at her.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Ugly and simple.
She had married a grieving father to get near a child’s property.
But Vanessa insisted she never planned Claire’s accident.
“Curtis told me she was dead.”
“Then why fake dental records?”
“He said there were insurance complications.”
“You believed that?”
“I believed whatever let me keep the life I wanted.”
That was the most truthful thing she had said.
Police traced the developer.
Caldwell Urban Partners.
Its chairman was eighty-one-year-old Henry Caldwell.
Eleanor knew him.
Everyone in Lake Forest did.
He hosted hospital galas, funded libraries, and sent enormous Christmas
baskets.
He had also been trying to buy Whitmore land for fifteen years.
Eleanor called him.
“Henry.”
“Ellie! Merry Christmas.”
“Did you kill my daughter-in-law?”
Silence.
Then Henry chuckled.
“You always did skip small talk.”
“Answer.”
“No.”
“Did you pay Curtis Hale?”
Another silence.
“You should come see me.”
“Police will come too.”
“I expected that.”
At Caldwell’s estate, Henry admitted paying Curtis to obtain information
about the land.
He denied ordering violence.
“Claire was formidable,” he said. “I respected her.”
“You tried to steal from her child.”
“I tried to buy land.”
“With forged documents.”
“That was Curtis’s improvisation.”
Brooks asked about Claire’s post-death signature.
Henry looked genuinely confused.
“I have no idea.”
Then his housekeeper entered.
“Mr. Caldwell, the woman is here.”
Henry went pale.
“What woman?”
Before he could answer, a figure appeared in the doorway.
Blonde hair.
A scar along one cheek.
Daniel stopped breathing.
Eleanor gripped the chair.
The woman looked at them.
“Daniel?”
He whispered, “Claire.”
She began crying.
Daniel crossed the room.
Then stopped.
He did not know whether he was allowed to touch a wife who had been dead
for two years.
Claire solved it.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
He collapsed against her.
When Eleanor finally looked away, she saw Henry Caldwell crying too.
“Why is she here?” Eleanor demanded.
Henry wiped his face.
“Because I’ve been hiding her.”
Daniel pulled back.
“You?”
Claire nodded.
“After the crash, I woke up in a private clinic. Henry’s people found me
before Curtis did.”
“Why didn’t you come home?”
Claire looked at him.
“Because somebody sent me photographs of Grace sleeping.”
Daniel went white.
“With a note.”
“What note?”
May you like
Claire’s voice broke.
COME HOME, AND YOUR DAUGHTER HAS THE NEXT ACCIDENT.
