Chapter 8: What Marcus Did Next
Grace called me at noon.
I stepped into the hallway to take it.
"Marcus retained Daniel Farro," she said.
"If that name means anything to you."
"It doesn't."
"It will.
He's expensive, aggressive, and he wins by burying the other side in paperwork." She paused.
"He also has a history of approaching witnesses before depositions.
I want Raymond to know that."
"I'll tell him."
"There's more." A brief pause.
"Marcus went to Teresa's house this morning.
Before he came to the hospital.
A neighbor saw him carry two boxes to his car from the home office.
We don't know what was in them."
My stomach dropped.
"The company records?"
"Possibly.
Or personal correspondence.
We're working on a preservation order, but it takes time." Her voice was steady.
"Claire, I need you to think.
Is there anything in that house — documents, a laptop, anything Mark kept there — that Marcus could use or destroy?"
I thought.
"Mark had a personal laptop.
He kept it in the study when we visited.
He stopped bringing it about six months ago."
"Why?"
"He said he preferred to work from home." I paused.
"I think now he didn't want Marcus to have access to it."
"Is there anything else at Teresa's?"
"There's a filing cabinet in the study.
Mark's father's original company records.
Old ones, from before Marcus took over the operational side." I pressed my hand against the wall.
"Mark mentioned once that his father kept personal notes separate from the official filings.
Handwritten ledgers."
Grace was quiet for two seconds.
"Do you know where in the study?"
"Bottom drawer of the cabinet.
Robert kept everything in green folders."
"I'm going to need a court order to access that house," she said.
"That takes longer than I'd like." Another pause.
"Is Teresa likely to cooperate with Marcus?"
I thought about her face in the doorway the night before.
The way she had looked at Marcus first.
"Yes," I said.
"Then we move fast." Grace's voice shifted into something more clipped.
"Go back to Mark.
Don't leave the hospital.
And Claire — if Marcus contacts you directly, do not respond.
Forward it to me immediately."
She hung up.
I stood in the hallway for a moment.
Down at the nurses' station, two staff members were talking quietly.
A cart rolled past.
The hospital moved around me with its ordinary rhythms, indifferent to everything.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
*Claire.
It's Teresa.
I need to speak with you.
Not about the company.
About Marcus.
There are things I should have told you a long time ago.
Please call me.*
I read it twice.
Then I photographed it and sent it to Grace.
Her reply came in under a minute.
*Don't call her yet.
Let me find out if this is genuine or if Marcus put her up to it.
Give me two hours.*
I went back into Mark's room.
Chloe had fallen asleep against his side.
Mark was watching the door when I came in.
"What?" he said.
"Your mother texted me."
His expression didn't change right away.
Then something moved through it — not surprise, exactly.
Something older than surprise.
"What did she say?"
"That she needs to talk to me.
That there are things she should have told me a long time ago."
Mark looked at the window.
Outside, the sky was flat and grey, the kind of Chicago winter sky that gives nothing away.
"She knew," he said quietly.
"I think she knew more than she admitted.
Maybe not everything.
But enough."
"Enough to have stopped it?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Enough to have warned me," he finally said.
The room was quiet except for Chloe's slow breathing.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
May you like
"Talk to her." He looked at me.
"But not alone."
