Chapter 7: The Lawyer Who Switched Sides
The detective's name was Paulson.
He arrived at the hospital at nine the next morning, a compact man in a gray jacket who shook Adrian's hand with the brisk efficiency of someone who had learned not to be impressed by suits.
They sat in a consultation room off the main corridor.
Adrian laid out everything he had: the notes from Renata's account, the anonymous text, the timeline, the name of Gerald's lawyer.
Paulson read through it without expression.
Then he looked up.
"The lawyer your father sent to Ms.
Voss.
You said his name was Garrett."
"Martin Garrett.
He has an office on Meridian Street.
He's handled several of my father's private matters over the years."
Paulson wrote it down.
"Has your father used him for anything involving vehicles?
Transport companies?
Security contractors?"
Adrian paused.
"My father has a security firm he uses for the estate.
I don't know the name offhand.
My investigator is pulling that."
"Get me the name when you have it."
"Detective." Adrian leaned forward slightly.
"How seriously are you treating this?"
Paulson set his pen down.
"A woman was run off the road at night by a vehicle with no plates that fled the scene.
She sustained a fractured collarbone, a concussion, and internal bruising.
The vehicle made no attempt to stop or render aid." He picked the pen back up.
"I treat all of those seriously."
"But?"
"But hit-and-runs are difficult.
Without plate or camera footage, we work backward from motive and association." He looked at Adrian directly.
"Which is why what you've given me this morning is useful."
Adrian's phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at it.
His investigator.
He held up one finger to Paulson and answered.
"I have the security firm," the investigator said.
"Registered to a holding company.
The holding company has one director." A pause.
"Martin Garrett."
Adrian looked at Paulson.
"I have the name."
He put the phone on speaker.
Paulson listened.
He wrote the name down.
Then he wrote something else underneath it and circled it twice.
"I'll need Ms.
Voss to make a formal statement," he said.
"Today if she's able."
"She's able."
"And I'll need those text messages from her neighbor.
All of them."
"Clara Marsh.
She's already agreed."
Paulson stood and gathered his papers.
At the door, he stopped.
"Mr.
Voss—" He caught himself.
"Forgive me.
Adrian.
Your father hasn't been contacted by my department yet.
When he is, he'll know you've spoken to us."
"I know."
"That may accelerate things."
"I know that too."
Paulson left.
Adrian sat in the consultation room for a moment.
Then he called his father.
Gerald answered on the first ring.
"I was expecting this call."
"Then you know why I'm making it."
"I know you've been at that hospital all night making decisions you'll regret."
"Martin Garrett," Adrian said.
A silence.
Shorter than it should have been.
"What about him?"
"He runs a security holding company.
One of his contractors drives a black sedan." Adrian kept his voice even.
"The police are pulling the registration records this morning."
"That's a significant accusation."
"It's a significant coincidence."
"Adrian." Gerald's voice dropped.
The performance of calm was gone now.
What was underneath it was harder and colder.
"You are about to destroy this family over a woman who left, over children who may or may not be yours, over a trust that was designed to protect everything your grandfather built.
I am asking you — as your father — to stop."
"Did you have her run off the road?"
Silence.
"Answer me."
"I am not going to answer that question."
"That is an answer," Adrian said.
"What I will tell you," Gerald said, "is that Garrett acted without my specific instruction.
If something happened, it was not sanctioned by me."
"You're telling me your lawyer hired someone to follow Renata and it had nothing to do with you."
"I'm telling you that men who work for you sometimes make decisions you didn't ask for."
"And you expect me to believe that."
"I expect you to understand that there is still a way through this that doesn't end with your father in a police station and your family name in the papers." His voice was very controlled now.
"The trust.
The estate.
Everything your grandfather built.
It doesn't have to burn."
"You should have thought about that before you told me she was d*ad."
Adrian ended the call.
He sat for one more moment.
Then he went back to room 412, where Renata was sitting up in bed with a cup of tea, waiting.
"Well?" she said.
"He didn't deny it," Adrian said.
"He just didn't confirm it."
Renata set the tea down.
"What happens now?"
"Now Garrett's records get pulled.
Now Clara gives her statement.
Now Harlow files the counter-petition." He sat down.
"And now I need to ask you something."
She waited.
"The children.
Daniel and Mia." He looked at her steadily.
"I want to do a paternity test.
Not because I doubt it.
Because I need it on record.
Legally.
Before any of this goes further."
Renata nodded slowly.
"I was going to suggest it myself."
"I know." He almost smiled.
"You were always more practical than me."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Something in her face was still guarded — the particular guardedness of someone who had been hurt enough times to stop trusting good moments too quickly.
"Adrian," she said.
"What do you want?
Not from the trust.
Not from your father.
From this." She gestured slightly — at the room, at the situation, at everything.
He didn't answer immediately.
"I want to know my children," he said finally.
"I want to know them properly.
And I want to make sure nothing like that road ever happens to you again."
She looked at the window.
Outside, the morning was gray and ordinary.
"That's enough," she said quietly.
"For now, that's enough."
His phone buzzed again.
His investigator.
*Garrett's office just shredded three boxes of documents.
May you like
Building security caught it on camera.
Police are on their way.*
