Chapter 6 - The Names Behind the Numbers
The forged signature appeared on six documents.
By the end of the week, there were eleven.
My name had been placed beneath statements claiming I had reviewed educational materials offered by a company called Harbor Legacy Partners.
I had never heard of Harbor Legacy Partners.
According to the documents, I had endorsed them as suitable resources for senior citizens.
I had endorsed nothing.
Julia explained the distinction between what felt criminal and what prosecutors could actually prove.
I hated that distinction almost immediately.
“It’s my signature.”
“Yes.”
“Forged.”
“Almost certainly.”
“Then arrest him.”
Julia folded her hands.
“We don’t know Derek signed it.”
“He benefited.”
“That’s not the same as proof.”
“His company got paid.”
“Relevant. Not enough.”
I looked at Anton.
He stood near the conference-room windows, silent.
“Say something.”
He turned.
“Julia is right.”
“Of course she is.”
“You’re angry.”
“Brilliant observation.”
“Anger is useful.”
“Wonderful.”
“If you don’t let it choose your next move.”
I glared.
“I don’t need philosophy.”
“No. You need patience.”
“That’s worse.”
Anton almost smiled.
Over the next ten days, patience became torture.
Victims came forward.
Some had lost ten thousand dollars.
Others hundreds of thousands.
A retired teacher named Marlene had taken out a home-equity loan after an adviser assured her the investment would earn more than the interest.
A widower named Thomas had invested money he intended to leave his disabled son.
One woman cried because she had not told her children.
Another refused to speak on record because her daughter already thought she was becoming forgetful.
The fraud had not only taken money.
It had weaponized aging.
Every victim feared the same thing.
That admitting they had been deceived would be treated as proof they could no longer make decisions.
That made them perfect targets.
I became angrier every day.
Anton became quieter.
Then one night, around eleven, he appeared at the library.
We had closed hours earlier.
I was still at my desk reviewing copies of old event registration forms.
“How did you get in?”
“Renee.”
I looked toward the staff room.
Renee appeared, put on her coat, and pointed at Anton.
“Make her go home.”
Then she pointed at me.
“Listen to the scary man.”
“I’m not scary,” Anton said.
Renee stared at him.
“Sir, respectfully, that is adorable.”
She left.
Anton looked at the mountain of papers.
“You can’t solve this tonight.”
“Watch me.”
He removed his coat and sat across from me.
“What are we looking for?”
I blinked.
“You’re staying?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because telling you to stop would be ineffective.”
“Good assessment.”
For two hours, we read attendance lists.
Anton had an unusual way of seeing patterns.
Not names.
Timing.
He lined up Derek’s appearances beside investment dates.
Five people invested within thirty days of meeting him at library events.
Three more within sixty.
Then Anton noticed something.
“These workshops.”
He pointed.
“Technology help.”
“Yes.”
“Why was Derek there?”
“He volunteered.”
“Doing what?”
My stomach tightened.
“Helping people with phones and laptops.”
Anton looked at me.
“What kind of help?”
“Setting up email. Password recovery. Online banking sometimes.”
“Online banking.”
I stood so quickly the chair rolled backward.
“Oh my God.”
“Grace.”
“We need Ruth.”
It was midnight.
Anton stopped me from calling.
“Tomorrow.”
“No.”
“She’s seventy-six.”
“She stays up watching murder shows until two.”
He considered that.
“Fair.”
Ruth answered on the fourth ring.
“If this is about a body, I didn’t do it.”
“Ruth, when Derek helped you with your tablet, did he ever help with banking?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
Anton and I looked at each other.
“Did he know your password?”
“I changed it afterward.”
“Did he help set up security questions?”
Another pause.
“Oh.”
That one word chilled me.
“What?”
“He asked about my mother’s maiden name.”
I closed my eyes.
“Anything else?”
“My first car.”
Anton stood.
“Grace, ask whether he ever photographed the screen.”
I repeated the question.
Ruth gasped.
“He said he needed a picture of an error message.”
After we ended the call, neither of us spoke.
Derek may not have needed to steal passwords.
He needed information.
Security questions.
Account balances.
Email addresses.
He could identify who had money.
Who lived alone.
Who trusted him.
Who was vulnerable.
I sat down slowly.
“This is bigger.”
“Yes.”
“I brought him here.”
Anton moved around the desk.
“You didn’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“No.”
“I’m tired of hearing it.”
“I don’t care.”
I looked up angrily.
“You don’t?”
“No.”
His voice remained level.
“Because you keep trying to convict yourself for evidence you didn’t possess.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
I stood.
“These people trusted me.”
“Yes.”
“They let him near them because of me.”
“Yes.”
“Then how am I supposed to separate myself from what happened?”
Anton was silent for a moment.
Then he asked the wrong question.
“What would you say if Ruth were standing where you are?”
I frowned.
“What?”
“If Ruth brought someone she trusted into your life and that person deceived you, would you blame Ruth?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she wouldn’t know.”
Anton said nothing.
I hated him for approximately five seconds.
Then I sat down.
“That was manipulative.”
“Yes.”
“Effective.”
“Yes.”
“I still don’t like you.”
“That would be more convincing if you weren’t holding my hand.”
I looked down.
At some point, without realizing it, I had taken his hand.
I released it.
Anton smiled.
It was the first truly warm smile I had seen from him.
It changed his entire face.
“You should do that more often,” I said.
“What?”
“Smile.”
“I have a reputation.”
“Tragic.”
He became serious again.
“Grace.”
“Yes?”
“I need to tell you something.”
The shift in his voice made me uneasy.
“What?”
“One of my investigators found a connection between Harbor Legacy and my companies.”
I stared.
“What connection?”
“Payments.”
“To your company?”
“Through a subcontractor.”
“How much?”
“About four million dollars over five years.”
My stomach tightened.
“Anton.”
“I didn’t know.”
The irony hung between us.
Now he was saying the words I hated hearing.
I didn’t know.
I studied him.
“Do you believe me?” he asked.
I thought about it.
Then answered honestly.
“I want to.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Trust that comes too easily isn’t worth much.”
That sentence sounded like Anton.
He opened another file.
Inside was the name of one of his senior executives.
Victor Salvi.
A man who had worked for Anton for eighteen years.
“He approved the subcontract.”
“Do you trust him?”
Anton looked at the name.
“I did.”
Did.
One word.
Past tense.
And suddenly our investigation had crossed a line neither of us expected.
Derek was not the only man whose betrayal had been hiding behind trust.
May you like
Anton had one of his own.
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