Chapter 9 - The Woman From Oregon
Celia Hart was sixty-eight, thin, gray-haired, and dressed like someone trying not to be remembered.
Plain jeans.
Plain navy jacket.
No jewelry.
No makeup.
She stood near the hospital elevators with a canvas tote clutched against her ribs.
When she saw me, she began crying.
Not politely.
Not quietly.
She covered her mouth and turned away.
I stopped six feet from her.
“Celia?”
She nodded.
“You knew my father?”
Another nod.
Marcus stood beside me.
“You said someone followed you.”
Celia looked toward the glass doors.
“A black sedan.”
“From where?”
“Airport.”
“You flew in?”
“Yesterday.”
I thought about the forty-thousand-dollar check.
“Did my mother send you money?”
Celia’s face changed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She wants me to leave the country.”
Marcus said, “Do you have the check?”
“I deposited it.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted proof it came from her.”
That was smart.
“What did she ask you to do?”
Celia looked at me.
“Disappear again.”
I felt anger rise.
“Again?”
She looked toward Natalie’s infusion room.
“Can we talk somewhere private?”
“No.”
Marcus frowned at me.
I shook my head.
“My wife is getting chemotherapy. I’m not leaving her alone to chase another family secret.”
Celia’s expression softened.
“Your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Is she ill?”
I stared at her.
“She has cancer.”
Celia closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
I pointed toward the infusion center.
“You can talk in there or come back later.”
She followed me.
Natalie looked exhausted by then.
Still, when I introduced Celia, she sat straighter.
“This is the woman from your father’s letter?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Celia stopped.
“You saw Daniel’s letter?”
I nodded.
Her face drained.
“Then Lorraine knows the trust is active.”
“She does.”
Celia sank into a chair.
“We don’t have much time.”
Marcus said, “For what?”
She looked at him.
“The option agreement.”
“What option agreement?”
Celia stared at me.
“Your father’s land.”
I felt dread before she finished.
“Lorraine can’t sell it.”
“No.”
“Then what can she do?”
“She cannot transfer title, but she can trigger a valuation dispute if she proves the trust has been mismanaged.”
Samuel had mentioned no such thing.
Marcus leaned forward.
“Explain.”
Celia opened her tote and removed a folder.
“When Daniel created the trust, the land was under threat of tax foreclosure. He structured a mechanism allowing emergency liquidation if carrying costs exceeded certain limits.”
“So?”
“Someone stopped paying the property taxes.”
My stomach dropped.
“How long?”
“Two years.”
“Who was responsible?”
“The trust’s administrative agent.”
“Who is that?”
“Samuel’s firm.”
Marcus swore under his breath.
I stared at Celia.
“Why would Samuel let taxes lapse?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know?”
“Lorraine told me.”
“Why would she tell you?”
“Because she wants me to sign a declaration saying Daniel intended her to have emergency control.”
“Would that work?”
“Maybe long enough to force a sale.”
“A sale to whom?”
Celia looked down.
“Red Mesa.”
I laughed once.
“My mother’s company?”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
“She has partners.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know all of them.”
“Who do you know?”
Celia’s eyes met mine.
“Your employer.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The solar company you work for has been acquiring land in southern Arizona.”
I felt the room tilt.
“My company operates in New Mexico.”
“And Arizona.”
“They laid me off.”
“Did they?”
I looked at Marcus.
He was already thinking.
My separation package was fake.
I had invented it.
But my employer really had announced restructuring.
And my crew really had been surveying sites.
Mostly New Mexico.
One project had involved reviewing transmission corridors reaching toward Arizona.
I had never thought about why.
Celia continued.
“Red Mesa is connected to a development group called Saguaro Infrastructure Partners.”
Marcus pulled out his phone.
“I know that name.”
“Why?”
“Because they are buying utility-scale renewable sites.”
I felt sick.
I had spent five months helping survey projects that might increase the value of my own hidden land.
And somebody knew.
“Did my employer know who I was?”
Celia whispered, “I believe so.”
“Why hire me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
She hesitated.
“Lorraine.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
Then a text appeared.
COME HOME ALONE IF YOU WANT THE ORIGINAL TRUST DOCUMENTS.
I showed Marcus.
He said, “No.”
Natalie said, “Absolutely not.”
Celia whispered, “She has originals?”
“I don’t know.”
Another text.
SAMUEL LIED TO YOU.
Then a photo arrived.
Samuel Wren at a restaurant.
Across from him sat Lorraine.
The timestamp was six months earlier.
I stared at it.
Celia leaned closer.
“Oh God.”
“What?”
She pointed.
“That restaurant is in Portland.”
I looked at her.
“You live in Oregon.”
“Yes.”
“Did you meet Samuel?”
“No.”
“Did you know he was there?”
“No.”
Marcus took the phone.
“This proves nothing.”
“It proves he met my mother.”
“Yes.”
“He never mentioned that.”
“Yes.”
Natalie’s machine beeped.
The nurse approached, checked the line, and adjusted something.
For thirty seconds, no one spoke.
The normal hospital sounds felt grotesque against the story unraveling around us.
When the nurse left, Natalie looked at me.
“You’re not going home alone.”
“I know.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
Celia whispered, “She may destroy the documents.”
“Then she destroys them.”
I looked at Natalie’s pale face.
“I am done risking living people for dead paper.”
Natalie’s eyes filled.
Celia looked down.
Marcus said, “We’ll arrange a controlled meeting.”
My phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID was Samuel Wren.
I answered.
“Ethan, where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“With Celia?”
My eyes narrowed.
“How do you know she’s here?”
Silence.
“Samuel?”
“Listen to me carefully.”
“No. You listen. Why were you in Portland with my mother six months ago?”
The old man breathed out.
“She showed you the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
“Not on the phone.”
I nearly laughed.
“Everybody in my life suddenly hates phones.”
“Ethan, Lorraine does not have the original trust documents.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I do.”
I stared at Marcus.
May you like
Samuel continued.
“And someone broke into my office twenty minutes ago trying to get them.”
