Chapter 12 - RICHARD COLE WANTED TO MAKE A DEAL
Richard Cole’s attorney arranged the meeting.
Public location.
Cameras.
Separate counsel.
Rachel beside me.
Richard arrived in a gray suit worth more than my first car.
He looked older than the photograph from 1994.
But his expression was the same.
Confident.
Measured.
The face of a man who had spent decades making consequences look negotiable.
“Natalie.”
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
“I won’t be Mrs. Whitmore much longer.”
He smiled faintly.
“So I understand.”
Rachel interrupted.
“My client is here voluntarily.”
“Of course.”
Richard placed a folder on the table.
“I’m prepared to help.”
I laughed.
He did not.
“You helped create this.”
“I invested in a company.”
“You worked with Jason.”
“Yes.”
“Claire.”
“Yes.”
“My grandmother knew exactly what kind of businessman you were.”
For the first time, his composure cracked.
“You found Margaret’s records.”
“Interesting reaction.”
Richard looked at Rachel.
Then back at me.
“Your grandmother disliked risk.”
“My grandmother disliked predators.”
He leaned back.
“Then perhaps we should be precise.”
“Please.”
“Jason stole from me too.”
I almost smiled.
“Congratulations.”
“He diverted company funds.”
“With Claire?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Over one million dollars.”
That was larger than anything we knew.
“They were planning to leave.”
“I know.”
His jaw tightened.
“So now you understand why we have aligned interests.”
“No.”
“I understand why you suddenly have a problem.”
Richard pushed the folder toward me.
Inside were internal account records.
Transfers.
Shell companies.
Jason’s initials.
Claire’s authorization codes.
Diane receiving consulting payments.
My mother-in-law had been paid nearly ninety thousand dollars over eighteen months.
“For what?”
Richard answered.
“Client liaison.”
I laughed.
“What clients?”
He looked directly at me.
“Spouses.”
My blood chilled.
Diane had helped identify people inside families.
Women with inherited assets.
People she could manipulate socially.
Church groups.
Community events.
Friends of friends.
She was not incidental.
She had a role.
“How long?”
Richard did not answer.
“How long has Diane worked with you?”
“Approximately four years.”
I stopped breathing.
Four years.
She moved into my house two years ago.
So the condo.
The spying.
The pressure.
None of it began after she became dependent.
She moved in because Jason’s business needed access to me.
I gripped the edge of the table.
Rachel noticed.
“Natalie.”
“I’m fine.”
Richard continued.
“Jason was supposed to bring legitimate opportunities.”
“Some became questionable.”
“Questionable?”
“Don’t sanitize it.”
He sighed.
“Fraudulent.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I began separating myself.”
“After making money?”
“Yes.”
At least he did not pretend.
“What do you want from me?”
“Cooperation.”
“With?”
“Recovering funds.”
“You want me to help you save money.”
“I want the same people you want held responsible held responsible.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You want Jason and Claire to absorb your share of responsibility.”
His expression hardened.
“You’re smarter than Jason said.”
“Jason thought I was stupid?”
“No.”
Richard paused.
“He thought you were decent.”
That sentence angered me more.
Because decency had become a synonym for exploitable.
Richard continued.
“He said you would not destroy people if another option existed.”
I thought of my grandmother.
Everything deserves a second chance.
She had warned me.
Richard slid one final document forward.
A handwritten agreement.
Signed by Jason.
Dated six months earlier.
It promised Richard a secured interest in proceeds from the Seneca Lake cottage.
Jason had pledged my property before he owned it.
My hands shook.
Then I noticed a witness signature.
Diane.
Below it was a notarization.
Claire Mercer.
Three people.
My husband.
His mother.
His mistress.
I looked at Richard.
“Why show me this?”
“Because Jason has asked me for a meeting tonight.”
“What does he want?”
“To trade evidence.”
“Against whom?”
May you like
Richard smiled without humor.
“You.”
