Chapter 9 - The Knock at the Door.
The agents identified themselves before entering.
One worked with the FBI.
The other represented a federal financial crimes task force.
Vanessa remained on the porch until they asked if I would permit her inside.
I looked at Andrew.
His face had turned gray.
“Let her in.”
Vanessa walked through the door without looking at him.
She was younger than I expected.
Her hands trembled slightly.
The agents asked everyone to remain calm.
They had warrants.
One covered Andrew’s company laptop and electronic devices.
Another covered records associated with Parker-Morgan Property Holdings.
Andrew stood suddenly.
“This is insane.”
The male agent looked at him.
“Mr. Parker, sit down.”
“I need an attorney.”
“You are entitled to contact one.”
Megan touched my arm.
“You’re not representing Andrew.”
“I know.”
The sentence felt strange.
For seven years, every crisis had been ours.
Now Andrew’s crisis belonged only to Andrew.
The agents collected his phone.
Then they searched his office.
Vanessa sat across from me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not coming sooner.”
She explained what Andrew had done.
At first, he had manipulated payment dates.
Then he began moving funds.
When Vanessa discovered it, Andrew told her the company routinely borrowed from temporary accounts.
She believed him for several weeks.
When she finally realized the truth, more than two hundred thousand dollars had vanished.
Andrew threatened to produce emails making her appear responsible.
“He knew my password.”
Vanessa looked ashamed.
“He used my login several times.”
Andrew shouted from across the room.
“You helped me.”
One agent turned.
“Mr. Parker.”
Andrew stopped.
Vanessa continued.
She had helped conceal some transactions.
That was why she had hired an attorney and approached investigators.
She was cooperating in exchange for consideration.
Then she looked at me.
“Andrew told me you were helping him.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“He said the money was backed by your inheritance.”
“Never.”
“I know that now.”
Vanessa opened her bag.
She removed a small stack of papers.
“These are copies of messages he sent me.”
Megan reviewed them.
Andrew had written that Claire approved the transfers.
Claire would guarantee the commercial loan.
Claire would sell the Rochester house if necessary.
My name appeared over and over.
He had built his entire fraud around the assumption that I would absorb the damage.
Then one of the agents returned from Andrew’s office carrying the black binder.
He also carried a small flash drive.
Andrew stared at it.
I noticed.
So did the agent.
“What’s on this?”
“Nothing important.”
The agent raised an eyebrow.
“We’ll determine that.”
Lorraine started crying.
“My son made mistakes.”
No one responded.
“He’s a good man.”
Vanessa looked at her.
“No.”
Lorraine glared.
“You ruined him.”
Vanessa’s expression changed.
“I ruined him?”
She pointed toward Andrew.
“He was stealing before I knew anything.”
Andrew exploded.
“You knew.”
“And you threatened me.”
“You could have walked away.”
“So could you.”
The argument ended when the second agent spoke.
“We found something else.”
He carried several documents from a locked metal box.
Among them was an appraisal of my house.
Another was a draft listing agreement.
My stomach sank.
Andrew had already contacted a real estate broker.
The proposed listing price was nine hundred seventy-five thousand dollars.
The owner signature line contained my forged name.
I looked at Andrew.
“You were going to sell my house?”
“I wasn’t.”
“The paperwork is right there.”
“It was only a draft.”
Then the agent held up another document.
A residential lease.
Lorraine’s name appeared as landlord.
The address was my house.
A prospective tenant had already signed.
Move-in date.
Thirty days from today.
Monthly rent.
Five thousand eight hundred dollars.
I looked at Lorraine.
“You rented my house to someone?”
Lorraine began shaking her head.
“Andrew handled that.”
Her signature was on every page.
For two years, she had called it her son’s house.
Apparently she had already begun behaving as though it were hers.
Then the agent looked toward me.
“Mrs. Morgan, there’s one more document you should probably see.”
He placed a life insurance policy on the table.
Andrew was the beneficiary.
The insured person was me.
Policy value.
May you like
One million dollars.
And I had never seen it before.
