Chapter 6 - The Paper Trail
At seven o'clock, Arthur Vance walked into the consultation room carrying three thick binders bound in red plastic.
Sebastian was sitting at the table with two laptop computers open in front of him. One displayed the corporate registry for Eastbridge Global Logistics; the other showed the personal offshore bank accounts of Margaret Carter, managed through a private trust company in Nassau.
“We’ve completed the audit of the household accounts for the last eighteen months,” Arthur said, dropping the red binders onto the table.
“What did you find?”
“Your mother didn't just use the household card for groceries and catering,” Arthur said, opening the first binder to a marked page. “Over the last fourteen months, she transferred four million two hundred thousand dollars from the Carter Family Charitable Foundation into a shell entity registered in Nevada called Vance Fetal Bio-Tech LLC.”
“Harold Vance’s firm?”
“Correct,” Arthur said. “And six hundred thousand dollars of that money went directly to the private bank account of Dr. Marcus Vance—Harold’s nephew—who happens to be the chairman of the Cook County Probate Board.”
Sebastian looked at the numbers on the screen.
The plan had not been conceived in a moment of panic when Ryan fell ill. It had been built methodically over a year and a half.
Margaret had systematically separated Claire from her sister in Ohio, telling her family that Claire was suffering from severe prenatal depression and didn't want visitors. She had cancelled Claire’s appointments with her regular obstetrician at Prentice Women’s Hospital, replacing him with Harold Vance under the pretense of “private, high-end in-home care.”
She had altered the estate’s security logs, wiping the video files every seventy-two hours so there would be no record of Claire being kept in the lower ground-floor room near the laundry when guests were not present.
“And the contract?” Sebastian asked. “The one I left on my desk this morning?”
Arthur reached into his coat and pulled out a thin leather folder.
“I retrieved it from your study,” Arthur said. “Page twenty-four wasn't an equipment schedule, Mr. Carter. Your mother had swapped the final appendix page with a durable power of attorney document.”
Sebastian opened the folder to page twenty-four.
The page carried his forged signature at the bottom, witnessed by Harold Vance and notarized by a notary public whose stamp belonged to an employee at Vance’s clinic.
It granted Margaret Carter full legal conservatorship over Sebastian’s personal estate, his voting shares in Eastbridge, and all medical decision-making authority for his immediate family in the event of his “temporary physical or psychological incapacitation.”
“They weren't just going to take the baby and kill Claire,” Sebastian realized, the blood draining from his face. “They were going to use the tragedy to claim I had suffered a mental breakdown from the loss of my wife and child.”
“They had already booked a room for you at a private psychiatric facility in Green Bay,” Arthur added, sliding a yellow intake form across the table. “Signed by Dr. Vance. Stating you were exhibiting severe delusional paranoia regarding your family’s safety.”
Sebastian stared at the yellow paper for ten seconds.
Then he stood up, picked up his coat, and looked at Arthur.
“Where is Harold Vance right now?”
“He returned to his office at the Schaumburg Surgical Center an hour ago,” Arthur said. “His attorneys are meeting him there.”
“And my mother?”
May you like
“She’s still at the private hangar,” Arthur said. “The FAA issued a ground stop on the Gulfstream twenty minutes ago based on the federal marshals’ preliminary filing.”
“Let’s go to Schaumburg,” Sebastian said.
