Chapter 8 - THE MAID THEY TRIED TO FRAME|
I stared at the photograph until the words beneath it became a blur.
Peter Kline was alive.
But someone had tied him to a chair, and the fear on his face was unmistakable.
Luca reached for the phone.
"Don't answer."
I looked up.
"They've got him."
"I know."
"They want the green book."
"And they're using you to get it."
Detective Serrano arrived twenty minutes later.
She studied the photograph, the threatening message, and the telephone records.
Then she asked me to explain everything I knew about the forged witness statement.
I told her about Vanessa's payroll review.
I told her how the new wife had insisted on handling the employee documents personally.
And I told her something I had almost forgotten.
"She made me sign an acknowledgment sheet."
Evelyn looked up.
"What kind of acknowledgment?"
"A form saying I had returned a spare set of keys to the household office."
"Did you keep a copy?"
"No."
I swallowed.
"Vanessa said the records were confidential."
Detective Serrano wrote something down.
"Then we need to identify exactly what you signed and whether that signature appears anywhere else."
Luca paced beside the desk.
"She planned to blame Claire if the paperwork was exposed."
"That is one possibility," Serrano replied.
"We need evidence before drawing conclusions."
She looked at me.
"Claire, the fact that your name appears on a document doesn't establish that you participated in fraud."
"But it does mean investigators will need to examine your role."
I nodded, although my stomach was twisting.
Three years of honest work had suddenly become a weapon someone could use against me.
I had entered the Moretti household because I needed stable employment.
My mother had been ill at the time, and I had spent most of my savings helping with her care.
After she died, the mansion became more than a workplace.
It became the place where I slowly rebuilt my life.
Now Vanessa was trying to turn those years against me.
Luca stopped beside my chair.
"You need your own attorney."
I looked up.
"Your family's attorney is already here."
"Evelyn represents the trust and has responsibilities to my family."
"You deserve someone whose only obligation is to protect your interests."
For once, I couldn't find an argument.
"I can't afford that."
"I can cover the fees without directing your lawyer."
I shook my head.
"I don't want anyone thinking you bought my silence."
Luca knelt beside my chair so we were looking at each other.
"Then we'll arrange it through an independent legal assistance fund, and you can choose your own counsel."
"You won't owe me anything."
I studied his face.
He wasn't offering pity.
He was acknowledging that I needed protection from a danger created inside his home.
"Thank you," I whispered.
An hour later, a separate attorney was reviewing the forged witness document with me.
The signature looked almost perfect.
But the address beside my name was wrong.
It listed my residence as the Moretti mansion.
I had never lived there.
I rented a small apartment on the North Side and traveled to work every morning.
That mistake became the first clear discrepancy my lawyer identified.
The second was even more revealing.
The document claimed I witnessed Frank signing at eleven-fifteen on a Tuesday morning.
At that exact time, I had been attending an appointment at a neighborhood medical clinic.
I still had the confirmation email and receipt.
The records would need verification, but they gave investigators an independent way to test the story.
Evelyn examined the date.
"Vanessa assumed you'd be working at the mansion."
"She didn't know I had taken personal leave."
"Then her own paperwork may help expose the forgery."
For the first time all evening, I felt something resembling hope.
Then Frank spoke.
"Claire."
I turned.
The old man had been sitting quietly beside the fireplace.
"Come here, sweetheart."
I approached him.
He took my hand.
"Your mother would be proud of you."
My throat tightened.
"She never met you, Mr. Moretti."
"No," he answered.
"But she raised someone who doesn't abandon people when they're frightened."
Tears filled my eyes.
He reached inside his jacket and removed a small brass key.
"Elena kept more than trust papers in that green book."
I stared at it.
"What does it open?"
"A cabinet at the Lake Geneva house."
Luca stepped closer.
"What cabinet?"
Frank looked at his son.
"The one your mother made me promise never to open unless Elias Voss came back."
A chill passed through me.
"What is inside?"
Frank hesitated.
"Records of what he stole from us years ago."
"And copies of the letters Elena sent to people she thought could stop him."
Luca stared.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I hoped the past would stay buried."
The old man lowered his voice.
"But I was wrong."
At that moment, Detective Serrano received a call.
Peter Kline's car had been discovered abandoned near a warehouse on South Halsted Street.
There was no sign of the notary.
But investigators had found a torn piece of paper beneath the driver's seat.
On it was a handwritten address.
Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.
Frank closed his eyes.
"That's where Elena hid the truth."
Then he looked directly at Luca.
"And if Elias gets there first, he won't just destroy the evidence."
May you like
His voice trembled.
"He'll destroy the last place your mother ever called home."
