Chapter 4 - The Man Who Managed My Money
Evan Cross was Richard’s best friend.
He was also our financial adviser.
That had been Richard’s idea.
“Keep everything with someone we trust.”
I trusted Evan because Richard trusted him.
That sentence made me feel stupid now.
Dad didn’t call me stupid.
He asked for bank statements.
I logged in.
Then froze.
Three investment accounts I remembered seeing months earlier were gone from my dashboard.
“Maybe they were consolidated.”
Dad shook his head.
“Don’t assume anything.”
He wrote down account numbers from old emails.
We contacted the institutions directly.
Two accounts had been transferred.
One had been closed.
My signatures appeared on every authorization.
I had signed none of them.
Total value:
$1.7 million.
I couldn’t speak.
The money had come from my mother.
She died six years earlier.
It was nearly everything she had left me.
Richard knew what it meant to me.
He used to say we would save it for our future children.
Now it was gone.
“Where?”
Dad asked the institutions to preserve records.
The transfers eventually led to an entity called Northstar Acquisition Partners.
Dad’s face changed when he saw it.
“What?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“Dad.”
“That company is already under scrutiny.”
My skin prickled.
“By who?”
He looked toward the window.
The black SUV had followed us from Richard’s house.
It was parked across the street.
Still sealed.
Still silent.
“Dad, who is in that car?”
“People making sure Richard doesn’t move anything else.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“You knew Richard was stealing from me?”
“No.”
“Then why was his company already being watched?”
Dad paused.
“Because Richard isn’t the first person connected to Northstar who has used forged documents.”
My mouth went dry.
“How do you know that?”
He leaned back.
For the first time, my father looked tired.
“Because years ago, finding people who hid money behind paperwork was my job.”
I laughed nervously.
“You built houses.”
“I did.”
“Before that?”
Silence.
Twenty seconds.
Maybe thirty.
Then Dad said:
“I spent twenty-seven years working federal financial cases.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“You were FBI?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“Justice Department. Financial Crimes Section. Later, a joint asset-recovery task force.”
I just stared.
Richard had spent three years ridiculing my father as an unsophisticated old man.
And Dad had let him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted that life finished.”
Then his expression hardened.
“But Richard brought it to my daughter.”
His phone buzzed.
He read the message.
“Evan just tried to move four hundred thousand dollars.”
“From where?”
May you like
Dad looked at me.
“An account in your name you didn’t know existed.”
