Chapter 7 - The Plan Was Bigger Than the Money)
The petition had never been filed.
That almost made it worse.
It meant Sloane had been waiting.
The draft described Jackson as emotionally unstable following his wife's death.
It cited frequent business travel.
It listed the departure of three caregivers.
It described several alleged household safety incidents involving Caleb.
Each incident matched something Hannah had described.
A missing medication bottle.
A dangerous toy near the stairs.
A broken plastic piece found near Caleb.
The draft suggested temporary guardianship should be transferred to "a trusted adult with a preexisting familial relationship."
Sloane Whitaker.
Jackson read the document in Detective Ortiz's office.
His hands remained flat on the table.
"She created the incidents."
"We have strong indications."
"She removed the caregivers."
"We're interviewing them."
"She wanted Caleb."
Ortiz shook her head.
"She wanted control of what came with Caleb."
Jackson looked at her.
"What exactly?"
Ortiz opened a financial chart.
Natalie's trust held approximately forty-eight million dollars in company shares and other assets.
Under ordinary conditions, Sloane could not access them.
But the original trust version gave an emergency guardian broad authority to request special distributions for Caleb's care.
The amounts still required trustee approval.
However, the independent trustee could be replaced if a court found the existing arrangement impractical during a guardianship crisis.
"If Sloane became guardian," Ortiz said, "she could petition for a different trustee."
"Someone she controlled."
"Possibly."
"And then drain the trust."
"Or borrow against assets."
Jackson looked at the chart.
"She killed Natalie for money."
"We don't have evidence sufficient to say she killed anyone."
"Yet."
"Yet."
Ortiz slid another document toward him.
Foundation auditors had identified more than seven million dollars in suspicious payments over four years.
Some began while Natalie was alive.
Most accelerated after her death.
"She's been stealing for years," Jackson said.
"That appears likely."
"Then Natalie found it."
"Yes."
"Removed her from Caleb's documents."
"Yes."
"And nine days later her brake line was damaged."
Ortiz met his eyes.
"We are reopening the death investigation."
Jackson looked down.
He had wanted those words.
Now that he heard them, they hurt more than he expected.
Reopening the investigation meant accepting that Natalie's death might not have been random.
It meant her final moments might have been caused by someone she loved like a sister.
It meant Jackson had allowed that person to stand at Natalie's funeral.
To carry Caleb.
To enter their home.
To comfort him.
He felt physically sick.
Ortiz seemed to understand.
"Go home."
Jackson stood.
At the door, she stopped him.
"There's another reason I asked you here."
He turned.
"One of the former caregivers agreed to speak with us."
"Which one?"
"Rebecca Cole. The second nanny."
The one accused after medication disappeared.
"She told us something strange happened the week before she left."
Jackson waited.
"She saw Sloane inside your garage at two in the morning."
"When?"
"Five months ago."
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"She assumed Sloane had permission."
"What was she doing?"
"Rebecca doesn't know."
Ortiz opened her notes.
"But she remembers Sloane carrying a small black case."
Jackson's mind immediately returned to Natalie.
Garage camera.
Brake line.
Deleted footage.
Sloane inside the garage again months later.
"What was in the case?"
"We don't know."
Jackson went home.
Hannah was sitting in the living room with Caleb.
The security camera had been replaced.
A small green light glowed above the doorway.
Jackson hated looking at it.
Hannah noticed.
"What happened?"
He told her about the petition.
She listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she looked down at Caleb.
"So that's why she hated me."
"Because you weren't failing."
Hannah nodded.
"She needed me to leave."
"Or she needed evidence to fire you."
Caleb crawled toward Jackson.
Jackson lifted him.
For several minutes, they sat quietly.
Then Hannah said, "There's something else."
Jackson looked at her.
"What?"
"The day before the vase incident, Sloane asked me when you were traveling next."
Jackson's expression changed.
"What did you say?"
"That I didn't know."
"Did she ask anything else?"
"She asked whether your mother still had a key."
Jackson stood.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"At the time it sounded like normal conversation."
Nothing involving Sloane sounded normal anymore.
Jackson called his mother.
She answered quickly.
"Jackson?"
"Mom, where is your spare key to my house?"
A pause.
"In my kitchen drawer."
"Check."
"Why?"
"Please."
Jackson listened as she walked.
A drawer opened.
Then silence.
"Mom?"
"It's not here."
"When did you last see it?"
"I don't know. A few weeks."
"Has Sloane been at your house?"
Another pause.
"She came by after the foundation memorial."
Jackson closed his eyes.
Sloane had another key.
Hannah stood.
"Change the locks."
Jackson was already calling the locksmith.
But before he could finish dialing, the security panel near the front door beeped.
One alert appeared.
REAR ENTRY ATTEMPT.
Jackson looked toward the kitchen.
Another beep.
INVALID KEY.
Someone was outside.
Hannah lifted Caleb.
Jackson moved toward the window but stayed away from the glass.
The rear camera feed loaded.
The porch was empty.
Then a figure moved beyond the fence.
A man.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap.
Jackson could not see his face.
The man looked once toward the camera.
Then ran.
Police arrived six minutes later.
Near the fence, they found a key.
Jackson's mother's missing key.
And attached to the ring was a small plastic tag.
May you like
One word had been written on it.
NURSERY.
