Chapter 5 - The First Victim Who Remembered Derek
Investigator Holt told them not to contact Monica Hale again.
Richard replied that Monica had contacted them.
Holt did not find that distinction comforting.
By the following morning, Claire had been placed on administrative leave from Westbridge Pharmacy.
Her manager, Steven Walsh, sounded apologetic.
Corporate legal counsel sounded considerably less so.
"Until the investigation is resolved," the attorney told her, "we need to protect patient confidentiality and company liability."
Claire heard only one word.
Liability.
She had worked there for eleven years.
Never missed a medication audit.
Never failed a compliance review.
Never received so much as a written warning.
Now her employee badge was disabled before breakfast.
Lily stayed with Denise while Richard accompanied Claire to the Financial Crimes Division office.
Holt had asked them to come because one victim had recognized Derek.
Her name was Evelyn Porter.
Seventy-eight.
Retired elementary-school librarian.
Claire recognized her immediately.
"Mrs. Porter."
The woman sat inside an interview room wearing a lavender sweater.
When she saw Claire, she smiled sadly.
"I knew it wasn't you."
Claire nearly collapsed.
"What?"
Evelyn reached for her hand.
"The investigators told me your account was used."
Claire sat beside her.
"I am so sorry."
"You didn't take my money."
"How can you know?"
"Because I met the man who did."
Richard leaned forward.
"Who?"
Evelyn looked toward the one-way glass.
"Derek."
Claire stopped breathing.
Holt entered.
"Mrs. Porter agreed to tell you what she told us."
Evelyn nodded.
"About five months ago, Derek came to my house."
Claire stared at her.
"Why?"
"He said the pharmacy was helping older customers enroll in a medication rebate program."
Claire covered her mouth.
"I never sent him."
"I know that now."
Evelyn explained that Derek wore a Westbridge Pharmacy jacket.
Claire's jacket.
She remembered one disappearing from the hall closet.
He carried forms containing Evelyn's prescription history.
He knew her doctors.
Her medications.
Her address.
Even the date of her husband's death.
"He was kind," Evelyn said.
Richard hated that word.
"He helped me fill out papers. Said I could receive six hundred dollars a year."
"Did you give him banking information?" Holt asked.
Evelyn nodded.
"A voided check."
Three weeks later, $8,000 disappeared.
Then $4,500.
Then another $12,000.
The bank eventually restored part of it.
Not all.
Claire cried through most of the story.
Evelyn squeezed her hand.
"Sweetheart, he used you too."
Claire looked at Richard.
There was no self-pity in her expression.
Only horror at what had happened to people who trusted her professional name.
Holt placed a photograph on the table.
It showed another man.
Mid-forties.
Dark hair.
Wire-rimmed glasses.
"Mrs. Porter, have you seen him?"
Evelyn's expression changed.
"Yes."
Holt leaned forward.
"When?"
"The day after Derek visited."
Claire frowned.
"Who is he?"
Holt did not answer yet.
Evelyn continued.
"He said he was Derek's supervisor."
"Name?"
"Mr. Marion."
Denise's discovery flashed through Richard's mind.
Marion Capital Services.
Holt looked at him.
"Recognize the name?"
"Last night."
Richard explained the shell company.
Holt nodded.
"We identified Owen Marion this morning."
"Who is he?"
"Former administrator at Horizon Meadows Assisted Living."
The room went silent.
Claire whispered, "Eight years ago?"
"Yes."
"Was he investigated?"
"Yes."
"Charged?"
"No."
Richard said, "Because the records burned."
Holt nodded.
Evelyn watched them.
"I don't understand."
Claire took her hand.
Neither did she.
Not completely.
But patterns were forming.
Derek had worked at Horizon Meadows.
Owen Marion had managed Horizon Meadows.
Money disappeared.
Records burned.
Eight years later, Owen Marion controlled Marion Capital.
Derek used Claire's pharmacy access to target elderly patients.
Money passed through Marion Capital.
The same architecture.
New victims.
New companies.
Old men behind clean paperwork.
Holt placed another document on the table.
"We obtained a warrant for Collins Restoration's bank records."
Richard waited.
"Derek isn't the only authorized signer."
Claire looked up.
"Who else?"
"Owen Marion."
Richard leaned back.
There it was.
Derek had not rebuilt an old scam alone.
He had gone back to someone from Horizon.
Claire whispered, "Why?"
Holt answered, "That is what we need Derek to explain."
"Find him."
"We're trying."
Holt's phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His expression changed.
Richard noticed.
"What?"
Holt looked toward Grant through the glass.
Then back at them.
"We just located Margaret's Mercedes."
Claire stood.
"Where?"
"Parking structure near O'Hare."
"Was Derek there?"
"The vehicle was empty."
Richard asked, "Cameras?"
"We're reviewing them."
Claire's shoulders dropped.
Then Holt continued.
"Something was found inside the trunk."
Richard's stomach tightened.
"What?"
Holt hesitated.
"Blood."
Claire went white.
"Whose?"
"We don't know yet."
Richard stood.
"Take us there."
"No."
"That's my daughter's husband."
"Which is precisely why you are not entering a potential crime scene."
Claire whispered, "Is he dead?"
Holt said, "We have no evidence of that."
Not reassuring.
Not at all.
Three hours later, preliminary testing revealed the blood did not belong to Derek.
It belonged to Margaret Collins.
But Margaret was not answering her phone.
Officers returned to her house.
The front door was unlocked.
Her bedroom had been torn apart.
A safe in the closet stood open.
No Margaret.
No Derek.
No obvious signs of forced entry.
Only one thing had been left behind.
A handwritten note on Margaret's kitchen counter.
Holt sent Richard a photograph.
Three words.
PAYMENTS ARE OVER.
Claire stared at it.
"Monica?"
Richard shook his head.
"Too obvious."
Denise zoomed in on the photograph.
"Wait."
She studied the handwriting.
"What?"
"This isn't the same handwriting from the Horizon agreement."
Claire frowned.
"So?"
Denise looked at Richard.
"Derek wrote the old note."
"You're sure?"
"I've seen enough of his signatures tonight."
Richard pointed to the new message.
"Who wrote that?"
Denise said, "Someone who wanted investigators to think the old blackmail arrangement ended violently."
Richard understood.
The blood.
Missing Margaret.
Abandoned car.
Threatening note.
Someone was constructing a story.
Just as Derek had constructed fake bills for Claire.
Just as someone had constructed fake income for Collins Restoration.
Just as an old fire had conveniently destroyed financial records.
Richard felt the machinery again.
A system built not only to steal money.
A system built to manufacture explanations.
Then his phone rang.
Lily.
Richard answered immediately.
"Hey, Rabbit."
She whispered, "Grandpa?"
"Yeah?"
"There's a man outside Aunt Denise's house."
Richard stood.
"What man?"
"The glasses man."
His blood turned cold.
"What glasses man?"
"The one who came here before."
"When?"
"When Daddy said he was fixing the sink."
Richard looked at Holt.
"Lily has seen Owen Marion."
Holt was already moving.
Richard put the phone on speaker.
"Lily, listen to Grandpa. Don't go near the window."
"But he left something."
"Where?"
"On the porch."
"What?"
Lily's voice became confused.
"A lunchbox."
Claire grabbed the phone.
"Lily, do not touch it."
"I didn't."
Police reached Denise's house nine minutes later.
Owen Marion was gone.
The lunchbox contained no explosive.
No weapon.
No money.
Just a single old photograph.
Horizon Meadows Assisted Living.
Eight years earlier.
A staff Christmas party.
Derek stood near the back.
Owen Marion stood beside him.
Monica Hale stood near a decorated tree.
And on the far left edge of the photograph was a fourth person.
A woman wearing a pharmacy technician badge.
Claire stared at the image.
"No."
Richard looked closer.
The woman was younger.
Different hairstyle.
But unmistakable.
Margaret Collins.
Claire whispered, "She told us Derek was the one who worked there."
Richard's jaw hardened.
Because Margaret had lied again.
May you like
She had not merely helped cover up Horizon afterward.
She had been inside Horizon before it burned.
