Chapter 5: What Vanessa Knew
The guests left in small groups over the next thirty minutes.
Some stopped near my chair on their way out.
A woman I had met twice at charity dinners pressed my hand and said nothing, which was the right thing to do.
A man I recognized as one of Adrian's golf partners looked at the floor as he passed and said, "I'm sorry.
We should have — someone should have—" and then stopped, because there was no ending to that sentence that didn't indict him.
"It's all right," I said, because it was easier than the truth.
He nodded and left quickly.
Daniel stood near the door until the last guest was gone.
Then he closed it and came back to where I was sitting.
He pulled a chair across and sat facing me, elbows on his knees.
"Tell me what else there is," he said.
"What makes you think there's something else?"
"Because you're watching her." He didn't look at Vanessa.
He kept his eyes on me.
"And you've been watching her since they took Adrian out."
I looked at Vanessa.
She hadn't moved.
Marcus had brought her a glass of water at some point and she was holding it with both hands, not drinking it.
"Vanessa," I said.
She looked up.
"How long have you known Adrian?"
She blinked.
"Two years."
"How did you meet?"
"Through a business contact.
A dinner." She paused.
"He was charming."
"He is charming," I said.
"That's not a defense of him.
It's just true."
She looked down at the water glass.
"I didn't know he was married for the first three months."
"And when you found out?"
A long pause.
"He told me you had an arrangement.
That the marriage was for appearances.
That you both had—" She stopped.
"I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like what men say," I said.
She didn't argue.
"Vanessa.
What do you know about the Hargrove account?"
Her hands tightened on the glass.
"Why?"
"Because you went still when I mentioned it.
Not surprised-still.
Recognition-still."
She set the glass on the floor beside her chair.
Carefully.
Like she was buying time.
"He asked me to sign something," she said finally.
"About eight months ago.
He said it was a standard consulting agreement.
That his company sometimes used outside contractors and it was a tax structure thing."
Marcus, from across the room, said quietly, "What was the name on the agreement?"
"A company called HG Advisory Services."
Nobody spoke.
"That's the shell," Theo said.
He was looking at Daniel.
"I didn't know that," Vanessa said quickly.
"I didn't know what it was.
He told me it was legitimate.
He said I'd receive a small fee for being listed as a director.
I thought—" She stopped again.
"I thought it was a favor.
Something he was doing for me."
"How much was the fee?" Daniel asked.
"Five thousand dollars."
"Did you receive it?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Last April."
Daniel looked at me.
I looked at him.
"She's a named director of the shell company," I said.
"Which makes her a person of interest," Daniel said.
Vanessa's face went white.
"I didn't know what it was.
I signed one piece of paper.
I didn't—"
"I believe you," I said.
She stopped.
"I believe you didn't know," I said.
"But the agents will need to hear that from you directly, and you'll need documentation of when you signed, what you were told, and what you received.
Do you have any of that?"
"The agreement.
I kept a copy." She opened her clutch.
Her hands were shaking.
"I keep everything.
My mother always said — she always said keep everything." She pulled out her phone.
"I photographed it when he gave it to me.
I don't know why.
It just felt like something I should do."
She held the phone out to me.
I looked at the screen.
The agreement.
Adrian's signature.
The company name.
And at the bottom, in a section labeled Authorized Representative, a second signature — neat, confident, familiar.
Not Richard Cole this time.
Geoffrey Strand.
"Geoffrey signed this," I said.
"He was there when Adrian gave it to me," Vanessa said.
"He said it was routine."
I handed the phone to Daniel.
He looked at it.
Then he looked at Theo, who was already dialing.
"Geoffrey is still in the building," Theo said.
"The agents asked him to wait in the study."
"Show them this," Daniel said.
Theo left.
Vanessa was watching me.
Her theatrical quality was entirely gone now.
Without it, she looked younger and more ordinary and considerably more frightened.
"What happens to me?" she asked.
"That depends on how cooperative you are," I said.
"And on what your attorney advises."
"I can't afford—" She stopped.
"I mean, I have some savings, but a lawyer for something like this—"
"I'll give you a name," I said.
"She's good and she's fair.
Tell her I sent you."
Vanessa stared at me.
"Why would you do that?"
I thought about it honestly.
"Because Adrian used you the same way he used everyone else.
And because the agents need your photograph and your testimony more than they need another target."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "I'm sorry.
For tonight.
For — all of it.
I didn't know about the rope.
I didn't know he was going to—" Her voice broke slightly.
"When he picked up that crop, I wanted to say something.
I didn't."
"No," I said.
"You didn't."
"I was afraid of him."
"I know the feeling."
She looked at her hands.
"Is that why you stayed?
Eleven years?"
It was a fair question.
It deserved a fair answer.
"I stayed because I was building something," I said.
"And because I kept thinking the man I married was still in there somewhere." I paused.
"The thirtieth str*ke cured me of that."
Callum came back into the ballroom.
"The agents want to speak with you when you're ready, Ev.
There's no rush."
"Tell them ten minutes."
He nodded and withdrew.
Vanessa stood up.
She smoothed her gold dress — the stained one, the one she'd been wearing all night.
She looked at me one more time.
"For what it's worth," she said, "he talked about you sometimes.
When he didn't know I was paying attention.
He'd say things like — she's smarter than she looks.
She's more patient than anyone I've ever met." A pause.
"I think he was afraid of you even before tonight."
"He should have been," Daniel said pleasantly, from his chair.
Vanessa almost smiled.
It didn't quite land, but the attempt was there.
She walked toward the study to wait for the agents.
I sat in the quiet ballroom with my four brothers and the wreckage of my thirty-fifth birthday and thought about patience.
About how long I had kept that particular fire banked and controlled and invisible.
About the fact that Adrian had been right about one thing.
May you like
He had taught me something.
Just not the lesson he intended.
