Chapter 8: The Voice on the Phone
I stopped walking.
Evelyn turned.
She read my face and held out her hand for the phone.
I shook my head once and put it on speaker, low enough that only she could hear.
"How did you get this number?" I said.
"I've known your number for quite some time," Victor said.
"I've known a great deal about you for quite some time, Clara.
Where you went to school.
The shelter on West 43rd where you and your mother stayed last winter.
The part-time job at the copy center on Broadway." A pause.
"I wanted you to understand that I'm not an obstacle you can simply go around."
"What do you want?"
"The same thing I've always wanted.
Simplicity.
Your mother signs a document releasing her claim against the private loan.
You and your grandmother agree not to pursue Daniel's estate share through legal channels.
Everyone walks away.
No courts, no newspapers, no unpleasant history."
"And if we don't?"
"Then things become complicated.
For your mother, who is currently in a hospital bed and might find her recovery more difficult than expected.
For your grandmother, whose late husband had certain financial arrangements that haven't aged particularly well under scrutiny.
For you." Another pause.
"You're nine years old, Clara.
You have no idea how long a man like me can make things difficult for a family like yours."
Evelyn's hand came down on my arm.
She was looking at me steadily.
I kept my voice level.
"You came to the hospital this morning," I said.
"You stood by the elevators and watched my mother's room."
"I wanted to see how the situation had developed."
"The police know someone assaulted my mother last night.
There's a security camera at the hospital entrance.
There are cameras at the Waldorf.
You were at both locations."
A short silence.
"You're nine years old," he said again, but this time it sounded different.
"I'm nine years old and I'm standing next to my grandmother," I said.
"And her lawyer is arriving in forty minutes.
And Thomas Whitmore is currently deciding whether to give us everything he has on you in exchange for a quiet settlement." I let that sit for a moment.
"I think you called the wrong person, Mr.
Hale."
The line was quiet for four full seconds.
"Put Evelyn on," he said.
"No," I said, and ended the call.
My hand was shaking.
I pressed it flat against my leg so Evelyn wouldn't see.
She had seen.
She didn't say anything about the shaking.
She put her hand over mine for a moment, then straightened.
"You told him about Thomas," she said.
"I wanted him off-balance."
"It was a risk."
"I know."
She studied me for a moment.
Then something in her face changed — not softened exactly, but opened.
"Daniel would have done exactly the same thing," she said quietly.
We went back upstairs.
The lawyer, a woman named Grace Ellison, arrived at the hospital at eight forty-five.
She was in her fifties, with close-cropped gray hair and a briefcase that matched Marcus's in its look of hard use.
She set up at the small table in my mother's room, spread her documents, and listened to everything without interrupting once.
When we finished, she was quiet for a moment.
"The assault gives us leverage we wouldn't otherwise have," she said.
"If the police investigation connects anyone in Hale's orbit to what happened to Sarah, the civil case becomes significantly stronger."
"Can we prove Clara's claim to Daniel's estate?" Evelyn asked.
"With a DNA confirmation and the documentation you already have, yes.
The question is timeline." Grace looked at me.
"And whether Thomas cooperates."
My phone buzzed again.
A text from the unknown number.
Four words.
*We should meet.
Tomorrow.*
I turned the phone so Grace could see it.
She read it.
Set the phone down.
May you like
Picked up her pen.
"Tell him yes," she said.
