Chapter 6: The Document She Signed
"It was a joint investment account," Victoria said.
"Raymond said it was for tax purposes.
He said my name needed to be on it so we could file jointly."
"When?"
"Eight months ago."
"What was the account number?"
She shook her head.
"I don't remember.
He handled all of it.
I just signed where he pointed."
I kept my voice even.
"Victoria, I need you to think carefully.
Was there anything else in that folder?
Any other documents with your name already printed on them?"
She closed her eyes.
Her hands tightened around the coffee cup.
"There was a second folder behind it," she said slowly.
"I only looked at the first page.
It had my name and Raymond's name at the top, and a property address I didn't recognize."
"Did you recognize the city?"
"Hartford.
I think.
Maybe Bridgeport."
I took out my phone and called Warren.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Raymond Cahill's shell company," I said.
"Does it hold any real estate in Connecticut?"
I heard typing.
Then a pause.
"Three properties," Warren said.
"Two in Bridgeport, one in New Haven.
All acquired in the last fourteen months.
All titled jointly between the shell company and—" He stopped.
"Say it," I said.
"Victoria Anne Cahill.
Your sister's legal name after the marriage."
Victoria heard it.
I watched her face go from pale to something past pale.
"He used me," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"He used your name," I said.
"That's different.
You didn't know."
"Can they come after me for it?"
"Not if we move first." I looked at the document in my coat.
"I need to make two calls.
One to JAG, one to a civilian attorney I trust.
After that, I need you to go somewhere Raymond can't find you for the next seventy-two hours.
Do you have somewhere?"
"My college roommate.
She's in Vermont."
"Go today.
Don't tell Raymond.
Don't text him from your regular phone." I reached into my bag and pulled out a spare phone — a habit from twelve years of field work.
"Use this.
My number is already in it."
She took it with both hands.
They were shaking slightly.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked.
"After this morning.
After what we did to you."
I looked at her.
"Because Marcus would have," I said.
"And because you came."
She nodded once, tightly, and looked back at the windshield.
"There's one more thing," she said.
"In that folder.
Behind the property documents." She hesitated.
"There was a photograph.
Of Marcus.
Taken somewhere overseas — I could tell from the background.
He was with a man I didn't recognize.
And Raymond had written something on the back."
"What did he write?"
Victoria turned to face me fully.
"He wrote: *He found out.
Take care of it.*"
The coffee cup crumpled slightly in her grip.
"I don't know what it means," she said.
"But I've been sick since I read it."
I sat with that for three seconds.
Then I called Warren back.
"Marcus's mission," I said.
"The classified one.
Who else knew the operational details?"
Warren's voice changed.
"Why?"
"Because I think Raymond did."
The line went quiet for long enough that I checked to make sure the call hadn't dropped.
"Colonel," Warren said finally.
"There's something I haven't told you yet.
Something I was going to wait until the estate was settled." Another pause.
"Marcus's mission wasn't a standard deployment.
He was investigating financial fraud inside a defense contractor network.
He had identified the primary architect two weeks before he was k— before he didn't come home."
"Did he give you a name?"
May you like
"He gave me an initial," Warren said.
"R."
