Chapter 2 - The Locked Room)
The first court officer entered Dylan’s office at 2:17 p.m.
By 2:19, the birthday music had stopped.
By 2:21, half the guests were pretending not to watch.
Gwen entered the mansion behind Howard.
She had not crossed the threshold in nearly six months.
The foyer looked different.
Pamela had removed the portrait Gwen commissioned after Dylan’s wedding.
In its place hung an enormous abstract painting Maren claimed was worth ninety thousand dollars.
Gwen looked at it once.
Howard noticed.
“Later?”
“Much later.”
Dylan hurried behind them.
“Mom, you’re overreacting.”
Gwen kept walking.
“Am I?”
“This is insane.”
Howard replied without turning.
“Mr. Tolbert, speaking is currently not in your financial interest.”
“This is my family.”
“And this is my client.”
Pamela stormed into the foyer.
“You cannot let strangers search our bedrooms.”
Howard stopped.
“The order concerns specific areas associated with business records and property documents.”
“There are children here.”
“There is one child here who is currently supervised by three nannies and approximately sixty adults.”
Pamela glared at him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
Howard looked toward Maren.
“But I am finding certain aspects educational.”
Maren pointed toward the front door.
“Get out.”
The nearest court officer looked at her.
“No.”
The word hit Maren harder than shouting could have.
Gwen continued down the corridor.
Dylan’s office sat at the end.
Inside, one officer stood beside a narrow walnut door.
The door was locked.
Dylan hurried forward.
“That’s storage.”
Gwen looked at him.
“Then opening it shouldn’t be frightening.”
“I don’t have the key.”
Howard checked the order.
“The court authorized entry.”
Dylan’s eyes widened.
“Don’t.”
The officer opened a compact equipment case.
Pamela whispered, “Dylan, what’s in there?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you sweating?”
“I’m angry.”
Gwen almost laughed.
The lock clicked.
The officer opened the door.
Behind it was not a storage closet.
It was a small private room.
Shelves lined two walls.
A desk occupied the center.
Three filing cabinets stood beneath a window.
And on the far wall hung an architectural plan of the mansion.
Pamela stared.
“What is this?”
Dylan said nothing.
Maren pushed past her daughter.
Then stopped.
A stack of brochures sat on the desk.
Howard picked one up.
His expression changed.
“What?” Gwen asked.
He handed it to her.
It was a private lending prospectus.
The mansion’s photograph appeared on the front.
Beneath it was a valuation.
Nine million eight hundred fifty thousand dollars.
Pamela covered her mouth.
“Dylan.”
He stepped backward.
“It wasn’t completed.”
Howard opened the brochure.
“What wasn’t completed?”
“The loan.”
Gwen’s voice was almost a whisper.
“You represented my property as collateral.”
“No.”
Howard turned several pages.
“Page four says otherwise.”
Dylan shook his head.
“I never signed the final documents.”
“Because the lender discovered the title problem?”
Dylan looked at him.
Howard had guessed correctly.
Pamela turned on Dylan.
“You told me the financing was delayed because interest rates changed.”
“Pam.”
“You lied to me.”
“You knew we needed money.”
“I didn’t know you were using the house.”
Maren interrupted.
“Everyone stop panicking.”
Gwen looked at her.
Maren straightened her shoulders.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
Howard held up the prospectus.
“No.”
“Dylan lives here. Anyone would reasonably assume he has an interest.”
“That is not how property law works.”
Maren rolled her eyes.
“Spare me.”
Howard smiled slightly.
“I suspect a judge already did.”
An officer opened the first filing cabinet.
Empty.
The second contained household records.
The third was locked.
Dylan immediately stepped forward.
“That one is personal.”
Gwen watched him.
Howard said, “So was the first locked door.”
The officer opened it.
Inside were loan documents.
Company records.
Bank correspondence.
And a thick envelope.
Gwen recognized the logo.
Caldwell Development Group.
Maren’s family company.
Pamela looked at her mother.
“Why are our company records in Dylan’s office?”
Maren’s expression barely changed.
“They aren’t.”
Pamela pointed.
“I can see the name.”
Maren turned toward Dylan.
For the first time, she looked afraid.
Not embarrassed.
Afraid.
Dylan shook his head subtly.
Gwen saw it.
So did Howard.
The attorney reached for the envelope.
Maren moved quickly.
“That’s confidential.”
An officer blocked her.
Howard opened it.
The first document was a loan agreement.
The second was a personal guarantee.
The third contained a list of assets.
At the top of the page was the mansion.
Howard read silently.
Then looked at Gwen.
“They valued it at eleven million.”
Gwen took the document.
The signature line contained Dylan’s name.
Another contained Pamela’s.
And below both was a notarized declaration stating that Dylan and Pamela Tolbert were beneficial owners of the property.
Gwen’s stomach tightened.
Pamela stared at her own signature.
“I didn’t sign that.”
Dylan looked at her.
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“You signed the package.”
“You told me those were restaurant refinancing papers.”
“They were part of it.”
Pamela’s face twisted.
“You forged this.”
“I didn’t forge anything.”
Maren snapped, “Enough.”
Everyone looked at her.
Maren stood beside the desk, her purple gown suddenly ridiculous against the stacks of financial documents.
She looked directly at Gwen.
“You wanted humiliation?”
Gwen said nothing.
“Congratulations. You got it.”
“This isn’t about humiliation anymore.”
“It always was.”
Gwen held up the declaration.
“No. Now it’s about fraud.”
Dylan sat down hard in the nearest chair.
Pamela began crying.
Not softly.
Not elegantly.
She looked at her husband and whispered, “What else did you do?”
Dylan covered his face.
Gwen watched him.
Then she saw Howard staring at the bottom of the page.
“What?”
Howard tapped a line.
“Gwen.”
She followed his finger.
There was another signature.
A witness.
Gwen recognized the name.
For several seconds, she could not place it.
Then she remembered.
“Howard.”
“I know.”
Maren looked toward the door.
The court officers noticed.
Gwen read the name again.
Victor Lane.
The man who had served as Gwen’s corporate financial controller for twelve years.
The man who had resigned suddenly six months earlier.
The man Gwen had trusted with access to confidential company records.
Howard slowly closed the folder.
“This is bigger than Dylan.”
May you like
Gwen looked at her son.
His silence answered before his mouth did.
