Chapter 7: The Storage Unit
Richard called back at 4:47 in the afternoon.
Mark and I were in my private suite on the third floor — not the penthouse, never the penthouse, a quiet set of rooms at the back of the building that looked out over the water.
I had made coffee.
Mark was sitting at the small table by the window, his phone in both hands, calling his children's school emergency contact for the third time.
"The subpoena came through faster than expected," Richard said.
"Judge Harmon.
She's been watching this attorney for a while, apparently."
"What was in the unit?"
"Documents, primarily.
Originals, not copies.
Eleanor, there are property deeds in there.
Signed transfers.
Some of them appear to be dated from the last eighteen months."
"Transfers from whose name to whose?"
"Several sources.
Gerald Whitmore's estate is one.
There are also documents relating to a woman named Patricia Osei — she was a seventy-four-year-old widow in South Carolina, passed away last year.
And there are two documents with your name on them."
My coffee cup was halfway to my mouth.
I set it down.
"My name."
"Signed transfers.
Your signature, Eleanor — or something very close to it.
Transferring partial ownership of three properties, including Serenity Shores, to a holding company called Coastal Legacy Partners LLC."
"I have never signed anything with that name."
"I know.
I have every document you've ever signed for the past twenty years.
These are not among them." A pause.
"She was building toward something larger.
The conservatorship petition would have given her legal authority to sign on your behalf going forward.
These earlier documents — I think they were practice.
Or insurance."
Mark had stopped calling.
He was looking at me.
"Richard," I said, "what about the children?"
"I spoke to the Boca Raton police twenty minutes ago.
They did a welfare check at the mother's address.
Eleanor — the children are there.
They're safe.
They've been there since yesterday.
The grandmother had no idea anything unusual was happening."
Mark let out a breath that seemed to come from somewhere very deep.
He put his face down against his folded arms on the table and stayed there.
"The grandmother," I said.
"Amber's mother — does she know about any of this?"
"She says no.
She seemed genuinely distressed when the officers arrived.
She thought it was a normal visit." Richard paused.
"I believe her.
I think Amber kept her mother as far from the details as she kept Mark."
I looked at my son, his head still down on the table.
"What happens next?" I asked.
"The Florida attorney general's office has been notified.
Given the pattern — Whitmore, Osei, and now you — this is no longer a civil matter.
The fabricated medical statements alone carry criminal weight.
The forged signatures on the property transfers are a separate count." A pause.
"Eleanor, they're looking for Amber now."
"She left the conference room about two hours ago."
"I know.
Hotel security footage shows her leaving through the south exit at 2:53.
She got into a car that was waiting.
Not a rideshare — a private vehicle.
The plates are registered to the same Delaware holding company."
The holding company her mother directed.
Except her mother hadn't known.
Someone else had set up that company.
Someone who had been waiting in a car outside my resort while Amber screamed at me in the lobby.
"Richard," I said slowly, "who are the other directors of Coastal Legacy Partners?"
"That's what I'm working on right now." His voice was careful.
"Eleanor, I want you to stay in the hotel tonight.
Don't go anywhere alone."
"I understand."
"I'll call you the moment I have the names."
I hung up.
I looked at Mark.
He had lifted his head from his arms.
His eyes were dry but his face looked like something had been taken out of it.
"The children are safe," I said.
"They're at your mother-in-law's house.
She didn't know."
He nodded slowly.
"Mark." I waited until he was looking at me.
"I need to ask you something, and I need you to think carefully before you answer.
In the last year, has anyone else — anyone at all — approached you about my properties?
A business contact, a new friend, someone Amber introduced you to?"
He was quiet for a moment.
Then: "There was a man.
About six months ago.
Amber said he was a financial advisor.
We had dinner with him twice.
He asked a lot of questions about your portfolio — I thought he was just making conversation." Mark's eyes went distant.
"His name was Garrett.
I don't remember his last name.
But he drove a black car."
My phone lit up on the table.
Richard's number.
I answered immediately.
"I have the second director," Richard said.
"A man named Garrett Foss.
Eleanor — he has a prior conviction for elder financial fraud in the state of Nevada.
Served fourteen months.
Released two years ago."
May you like
Outside the window, the ocean was going dark under a low orange sky.
Amber had not been working alone.
