Chapter 8: The Freeze and the Fight
The emergency asset freeze was granted at 4:47 that afternoon.
Sylvia called me while I was sitting in the precinct waiting area, still in the same clothes I'd worn to the lockbox that morning.
"It's done," she said.
"Crestline Property Holdings is frozen.
All associated accounts, all pending transfers.
His attorney will be notified within the hour."
I let out a breath.
"How long will it hold?"
"Long enough.
The financial crjmes unit is formally opening an investigation.
Once that's active, the freeze becomes much harder to challenge." A pause.
"Gerald has completed his secondary review.
The final figure is five hundred and twelve thousand dollars."
I sat with that number for a moment.
"Over eleven years," I said.
"Yes.
And Abigail — the property on Aldermoor Drive was purchased entirely with diverted funds.
Karen Pryce has no legal ownership claim.
The property belongs to Reed Family Holdings."
I thought about that house.
A woman living in it who may or may not have known where the money came from.
I didn't know enough about her yet to decide how I felt.
"What happens to her?" I asked.
"That's a separate matter.
She's not a named party in any of the current proceedings.
For now, the property is simply frozen along with everything else."
Chloe's formal statement took two hours.
I didn't wait for her.
Bennett drove me back to Sylvia's office, where I sat in the quiet conference room and ate a sandwich I didn't taste and looked at the framed photograph Sylvia kept on her bookshelf — Sylvia and Grandma Gwyneth at what looked like a garden party, both of them laughing at something outside the frame.
"How long did you know her?" I asked when Sylvia came in.
"Thirty-one years." Sylvia sat down across from me.
"She hired me when I was twenty-nine and she was fifty and she told me she needed a lawyer who wasn't afraid of difficult men." A small pause.
"She said she'd had enough of lawyers who were afraid of difficult men."
"She found the right one."
"She usually did." Sylvia folded her hands on the table.
"She talked about you often, you know.
Over the years.
She kept every letter you sent.
She had a photograph of you on your ship on her desk at home."
I looked at the table.
"I should have come back sooner," I said.
"You came back when you could." Sylvia's voice was gentle but not soft.
"She knew that.
She never blamed you for the distance.
She blamed David for making the distance necessary."
My phone rang.
My father.
I answered it.
"You have made," he said, "a very serious mistake."
His voice was controlled.
That was more frightening than if he'd been shouting.
"The freeze order," I said.
"You have no idea what you've done to this family.
To your mother.
To everything your grandfather built."
"I know exactly what's been done to everything Grandpa built.
I've read the documentation."
"Documentation." He said the word like it tasted wrong.
"Your grandmother was a sick old woman who was manipulated by a lawyer who has been billing this family for thirty years and has every reason to inflate her own importance."
"Sylvia has been protecting this family for thirty years.
You've been stealing from it."
"You want to talk about stealing?" His voice dropped.
"You walked away.
Nine years ago, you walked away from your family, from your responsibilities, from everything that was asked of you, and now you want to come back and play the victim?
You were on that floor because you refused to cooperate with a reasonable family discussion."
"You hjt me with a club, Dad."
"I want you to think very carefully about your next move." A pause.
"I have resources you don't know about.
I have relationships in this city that go back forty years.
You are a naval officer who has been out of this community for two decades.
I am suggesting, strongly, that you consider what a prolonged legal fight will cost you.
Not just in money."
"Are you threatening my career?"
"I'm telling you that I have friends."
"So do I." I looked through the glass wall of the conference room at Bennett, who was sitting in the waiting area reading a magazine with the focused patience of someone who has stood watch for twenty-two years.
"And mine showed up when I was on the floor."
Silence.
"Chloe came to you," he said.
It wasn't a question.
I didn't confirm it.
"She is going to regret that," he said.
"Whatever she told you, whatever she thinks she's doing — she is going to regret it."
"That sounds like a threat against your daughter."
"It sounds like a father who knows his children better than they know themselves."
"I'm going to end this call now," I said.
"If you contact me again before this is resolved through legal channels, I'll be adding it to the record."
I ended the call.
Sylvia had heard most of it.
She was already writing.
"Threatening your career," she said.
"Implicit threat against Chloe.
All of it noted."
"He's scared," I said.
"Yes." She set down her pen.
"Scared men do unpredictable things.
I want you staying somewhere other than a hotel for the next few days.
Do you have someone?"
Bennett appeared in the doorway, as if on cue.
"My wife already made up the guest room," he said.
"She said to tell you there's no argument."
I looked at him.
"You called your wife about this?"
"She called me," he said.
"She saw the news report.
Local woman, Navy captain, assault at a family home.
She figured out it was you before I got home." He shrugged.
"She said if I didn't offer the guest room she'd come down here and offer it herself."
Something loosened in my chest that had been tight for three days.
"Tell her thank you," I said.
May you like
"Tell her yourself.
She's making pot roast."
