Chapter 3 - The Company That Never Catered a Wedding
Greg Mallory was not a caterer.
Miriam found that out within an hour.
He had worked private security, debt collection, and what his résumé called “asset recovery.”
He also had two misdemeanor assault convictions and a restraining order from a former girlfriend.
“What does Vanessa need an asset recovery specialist for?” I asked.
Miriam gave me a flat look.
“I think the phrase ‘asset recovery specialist’ is doing a lot of work there.”
The police received the photograph.
Officer Ramirez called me personally.
“We’re locating Mallory now.”
“Can you arrest him?”
“Not from a photograph.”
“What about the brake line?”
“If we connect him to the vehicle, that changes.”
Nathan called again.
This time I answered.
“I want the truth.”
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try.”
His breathing was uneven.
“I didn’t know Vanessa would do that.”
“You expect me to believe she independently hired someone to threaten your wife?”
“She doesn’t think like normal people.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Emily, Halcyon was supposed to solve a temporary problem.”
“You stole from me.”
“I borrowed.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I didn’t forge it.”
The sentence stopped me.
“Then who did?”
Silence.
“Nathan.”
“I signed some documents I shouldn’t have.”
“With my name?”
“No.”
“Then whose hand was on the pen?”
“I don’t know.”
I laughed once.
“You are protecting someone.”
“Emily—”
“Your sister?”
No answer.
“Your mother?”
Still nothing.
Then he said something unexpected.
“You need to understand how bad things are.”
“For you?”
“For all of us.”
“No. For you.”
“You think freezing the accounts saved you? It exposed everything.”
“What is everything?”
He lowered his voice.
“Vanessa owes people money.”
“What people?”
“Not people you want to know.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“More than Halcyon can cover.”
“Then why was my money going into Halcyon?”
Another silence.
I closed my eyes.
“You were feeding my inheritance into your sister’s debt.”
“I was trying to keep her alive.”
“By destroying me?”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
I ended the call.
Miriam had been listening.
“He’s scared.”
“He should be.”
“No. I mean genuinely scared.”
She walked to the window.
“That can make people cooperate.”
“Or become dangerous.”
“Both.”
That afternoon, we met with a forensic accountant named Daniel Price.
Daniel wore no tie, carried two laptops, and spoke about financial crime the way surgeons spoke about tumors.
He projected Halcyon’s transactions onto the wall.
“This company doesn’t conduct real business.”
“What does it do?”
“Moves money.”
He highlighted transfers.
Money from my accounts entered the catering company.
From there, it moved into Halcyon.
Then it split.
Some went to personal credit cards.
Some to Judith.
Some to Vanessa.
But nearly half went elsewhere.
A company named Red Lantern Consulting.
“Who owns that?” I asked.
“We don’t know yet.”
“Can you find out?”
Daniel smiled slightly.
“That’s why I’m expensive.”
By evening, he had an answer.
Red Lantern Consulting belonged to Gregory Mallory.
My skin went cold.
So Vanessa was not simply paying Greg to scare me.
She had already transferred hundreds of thousands to him.
“What for?” Miriam asked.
Daniel clicked through invoices.
Security consulting.
Operational risk.
Executive protection.
Asset relocation.
All vague.
All expensive.
“All fake?” I asked.
“Probably.”
Then he opened another ledger.
“Here’s the problem.”
Red Lantern had moved money again.
To cash.
To cryptocurrency exchanges.
To a storage company.
And to a warehouse lease on the industrial edge of town.
The same warehouse where Nathan had photographed Vanessa and Greg.
“Police warrant?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Miriam said.
Daniel pointed to one more payment.
“This may help.”
Three weeks earlier, Red Lantern had paid seventy-five thousand dollars to a company called Northfield Claims Services.
I recognized the name.
Our homeowner’s insurance carrier had used Northfield to investigate a burst pipe claim two years earlier.
“Insurance?”
Daniel nodded.
“Maybe.”
Miriam’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“Where?”
Then she looked at me.
“Okay. Don’t touch anything.”
She hung up.
“Ramirez found Greg Mallory.”
“Did he arrest him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Greg Mallory is dead.”
The room went silent.
“What happened?”
“His car went off a bridge sometime last night.”
Last night.
The same night someone cut my brake line.
“Was it an accident?”
“They don’t know.”
Daniel slowly closed his laptop.
Miriam looked at me.
“Emily, if Mallory cut your brake line, then someone killed the only obvious witness.”
I thought of Nathan’s text.
VANESSA IS OUT OF CONTROL.
Then another thought came.
“What if Vanessa isn’t the person he was afraid of?”
Nobody answered.
That night, Daniel sent one final message.
He had found the insurance policy attached to Red Lantern’s seventy-five-thousand-dollar payment.
The insured person was me.
And the beneficiary was not Nathan.
May you like
It was Judith Cole.
My mother-in-law.
