Chapter 4 - THE WOMEN BEFORE ME
The petition described a woman I did not recognize.
Violent.
Delusional.
Unable to manage money.
A danger to herself and others.
It listed Adrian as the concerned husband requesting emergency control of my finances.
Attached was a statement from Dr. Malcolm Reed.
The same disgraced doctor who had labeled Eleanor paranoid decades earlier.
“They planned to use tonight against me,” I said.
Rachel nodded.
“If you got angry, they would call it proof. If you fought back after he hit you, even better.”
Maya looked down.
“They've done it before.”
She told us about Brooke.
Brooke had discovered Adrian was using her duplex as collateral for a loan she had never approved.
When she confronted him at a family weekend in Lake Tahoe, Owen filmed only the last thirty seconds of the argument.
The part where Brooke screamed and threw a glass.
The family used the clip to threaten her with a psychiatric hold.
She signed the property away and disappeared.
“Do you know where she is?” Rachel asked.
“No. But there is a payment trail.”
Maya opened a spreadsheet.
Monthly transfers had gone from Caldwell Vineyards to a company called Blue Harbor Consulting.
The address belonged to a private mailbox in Portland.
The payments began one week after Brooke vanished.
“What about Eleanor?” I asked.
Maya's face tightened.
“I don't know if she's alive.”
The hospital room door opened.
A nurse stepped in carrying a clipboard.
“Mrs. Caldwell, your husband posted bail. The court issued an emergency protective order, but you should not return home alone.”
My home.
Not the estate.
The condo in Mission Bay.
My keys were in my purse, but Adrian knew the building code.
“He'll go there,” I said.
Rachel was already closing the laptop.
We drove to San Francisco before dawn.
Police met us outside the building.
My front door was not broken.
It was unlocked.
Inside, drawers had been emptied across the floor.
Couch cushions were cut open.
Kitchen cabinets hung wide.
My desk computer was gone.
Adrian had not been searching for jewelry.
He was searching for the flash drive.
Then Maya saw the framed wedding photograph on the floor.
The glass had been smashed.
A note lay beneath it.
YOU HAVE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.
Rachel photographed everything.
I walked into my bedroom.
My closet doors were open.
On the bed sat a single blue folder.
It had not been there before.
Inside was a life insurance policy worth four million dollars.
Adrian was the beneficiary.
The policy had been opened six months earlier.
My signature was forged.
Maya took one look and backed into the wall.
“This is exactly what they did to Eleanor.”
My phone rang.
Adrian's name filled the screen.
Rachel activated the recorder and nodded for me to answer.
“Where is the drive?” Adrian asked.
“Did you break into my condo?”
“You don't understand what you stole.”
“What did Eleanor steal, Adrian?”
His breathing stopped.
Then he said, very softly, “Ask Maya what happened to the last woman who said that name.”
The call ended.
Maya stared at the dark screen.
May you like
“He knows I gave it to you.”
Before any of us could speak, the building fire alarm began screaming.
