Chapter 7 - Thirty-Two Percent
Karen was not supposed to own any part of Hale Residential Partners.
Yet according to one board resolution, she owned thirty-two percent.
Exactly the amount Mom had left to my trust.
Dad read the document three times.
“This is impossible.”
Detective Bell asked, “Whose signatures appear?”
“Mine.”
Dad swallowed.
“And Emily’s.”
Grandma stared.
“Emily was dead.”
Everyone stopped.
Dad pushed the laptop away.
“I never signed this.”
Detective Bell took the document.
“Your electronic signature?”
“Yes.”
“Who had access?”
Dad didn’t answer.
Karen.
The detective continued.
“Emily’s signature appears scanned.”
Claire joined by video call.
She examined the resolution.
“This document conflicts with the probate record.”
“So it’s meaningless?” Dad asked.
“Legally, ownership does not change merely because someone creates false corporate paperwork.”
Dad exhaled.
Claire continued.
“But if Karen used it to vote shares, obtain financing, influence lenders, or represent herself as an owner, the consequences become serious.”
Dad looked sick again.
Detective Bell asked for every version of the corporate ledger.
The current ledger showed Karen owning twelve percent, not thirty-two.
Dad frowned.
“Why twelve?”
His controller explained that the number had changed several times during refinancing.
Shares had apparently been transferred, redeemed, reissued, and pledged.
Most documents used Dad’s digital authorization.
He remembered none of them.
Grandma looked at him.
“How could you run a company like this?”
“I didn’t.”
That answer surprised everyone.
Dad stood.
“Karen did.”
He walked to the window.
“After Emily died, I stopped functioning.”
His voice was flat.
“I went to meetings. I signed deals. I smiled at investors.”
He turned.
“But Karen handled everything.”
Grandma folded her arms.
“You gave her everything.”
“Yes.”
It was the first time Dad didn’t argue.
Detective Bell asked, “Was she an officer?”
“Chief operating officer.”
“With authority?”
“Limited.”
“On paper?”
Dad stopped.
“I don’t know.”
Again.
He didn’t know.
Every answer led back to documents he had signed without reading.
Later, Dad and Grandma argued privately.
I wasn’t meant to hear.
But Grandma’s walls were thin.
“You married her because she made your life easy,” Grandma said.
“That’s cruel.”
“It’s true.”
“She helped me survive.”
“And Noah?”
Silence.
“You needed someone to manage your life,” Grandma continued. “So you stopped asking what that management cost everyone else.”
Dad said something too quiet to hear.
Grandma answered sharply.
“No. Grief explains it. Grief does not excuse it.”
I went downstairs.
They stopped talking.
“I heard you.”
Dad looked miserable.
“I’m sorry.”
I sat at the table.
“Did you love Karen?”
Grandma started to intervene.
Dad raised a hand.
“I did.”
“Do you still?”
He thought for a long time.
“I don’t know who she is.”
I understood that feeling.
Because I was beginning to realize I hadn’t known Dad either.
That evening Claire called.
The bank had located Box 317.
It remained registered jointly to Mom and Grandma.
Grandma’s access privileges were still valid.
Detective Bell arranged to accompany her with a legal evidence protocol because the contents might relate to an investigation.
Dad could not access it.
Mom had deliberately excluded him.
He looked hurt.
Grandma noticed.
“She was protecting the evidence, Daniel.”
“From me?”
“From anyone Karen could manipulate.”
Dad didn’t answer.
The next morning, Grandma, Detective Bell, Claire, and a bank manager entered a secure room.
I stayed with Dad at Claire’s office.
Two hours later they returned with an inventory.
The box contained four things.
A flash drive.
A sealed letter addressed to Dad.
A small company ledger.
And a notarized statement signed by Mom.
The ledger listed eighteen questionable transactions.
The flash drive contained copies of invoices and emails.
The sealed letter was personal.
Claire handed it to Dad.
He hesitated.
“Do I have to read this with everyone?”
“No.”
He went into another room.
He stayed there for almost forty minutes.
When he came back, his face was wet.
He put the letter into his jacket.
“What did she say?” Grandma asked.
Dad shook his head.
“Not evidence.”
Nobody pushed him.
Detective Bell examined the notarized statement.
Mom described discovering irregular payments and an unauthorized change to vendor accounts.
She identified Karen and Evan as people with access.
But Mom also made something clear.
She did not accuse them of a crime without proof.
“She was careful,” Detective Bell said.
“She was always careful,” Grandma replied.
One paragraph mentioned Duluth.
Mom had arranged to meet a private forensic accountant there after her medical consultation.
Karen had unexpectedly insisted on driving.
Mom suspected Karen followed her to the bank.
The missing photograph had been taken by the accountant.
That explained why Karen and Evan were both outside Lakeside Federal.
They were watching Mom.
But the ledger contained another name nobody recognized.
M.R.
Repeated four times.
Payments totaling $96,000.
Dad searched the company database.
Nothing.
Detective Bell searched state business records.
No immediate result.
Claire frowned.
“Could be initials.”
Grandma suddenly looked uneasy.
Dad noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You know something.”
“I know someone.”
“Who?”
Grandma hesitated.
“Michael Reeves.”
Dad stared.
“My old business partner?”
“Yes.”
Dad shook his head.
“That’s impossible.”
Michael Reeves had helped Dad and Mom start Hale Residential Partners.
Then, seven years earlier, he had been accused of stealing company funds.
Dad had forced him out.
Michael disappeared from their lives.
Grandma said, “Emily never believed he stole that money.”
Dad stared at her.
“She testified against him.”
“No.”
“She gave the auditors records.”
“She gave them records Karen prepared.”
Dad’s face changed.
Karen had worked at the company even then.
Long before Mom got sick.
Long before Dad married her.
Detective Bell leaned forward.
“When did Ms. Pike begin working for you?”
Dad whispered, “Eight years ago.”
The alleged theft by Michael happened seven years ago.
Grandma looked at Dad.
“What if Karen didn’t start stealing after Emily became sick?”
Nobody spoke.
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Detective Bell closed the ledger.
“What if she started before Noah was born?”
