Chapter 14 - Elaine’s House
Natalie met me and Detective Harris outside her mother’s house at six that evening.
Elaine Foster lived in a perfectly maintained colonial with white shutters and a front lawn trimmed so evenly it looked artificial.
She opened the door before we knocked.
“Absolutely not,” she said.
Harris held up a warrant.
Elaine’s face changed.
Natalie stepped forward.
“Mom, where is the original affidavit?”
Elaine looked at her daughter with open disgust.
“You brought police to my house?”
“You used me.”
“I saved you.”
“From what?”
“From being married to a man who would have thrown you away the second he got rich.”
I almost laughed.
Elaine looked at me.
“You think Raymond is a saint? He stole you. He hid you. He cost Arthur Bennett millions.”
“He raised me.”
“On another family’s money.”
“No. On construction wages.”
That shut her up for half a second.
Police searched the office upstairs.
They found shredded documents, but no original affidavit.
Then Natalie went into the kitchen and stared at a row of ceramic flour canisters.
“My mother hides cash in stupid places,” she said.
Elaine snapped, “Natalie.”
Natalie opened the largest canister.
Inside was a waterproof document pouch.
Harris took it before she could touch anything.
The original affidavit was inside.
Four pages.
The version Leonard had filed was five.
The fifth page contained the language claiming I had authorized Natalie to negotiate away my rights.
Priya had been right.
The document had been altered after Natalie signed it.
For the first time in days, I looked at my wife and saw something other than betrayal.
I saw terror.
Because her mother was not finished.
Elaine sat at the kitchen table while Harris cataloged evidence.
Then she said quietly, “Leonard will burn all of us before he lets this reach discovery.”
Natalie stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Elaine looked at me.
“There is a reason he was at the hospital.”
My skin prickled.
“What reason?”
“He thinks Raymond has a recording from 1992.”
Dad had tapes.
We had listened to recent ones.
Not all of them.
“What recording?”
Elaine swallowed.
May you like
“A recording of David Shaw admitting what happened the night Claire died.”
