Chapter 5 - What Christopher Knew

Christopher contacted me through his attorney three days later.

He wanted to talk.

My divorce lawyer, Elena Ruiz, read the email twice and looked at me across her conference table.

“He says he wants to explain.”

“He has had five years to explain.”

“He says there are things Raymond kept from him.”

“Of course he does.”

Elena leaned back.

“Do you want to hear him?”

“No.”

“Do you want the police to hear him?”

I looked at her.

“That is different.”

“Yes.”

The meeting was arranged in a controlled interview room with Detective Morales and Owen Price listening from another room. Christopher’s attorney, Martin Bell, sat beside him. Elena sat beside me.

Christopher looked smaller than I remembered.

Not physically.

The confidence had gone out of him.

He stared at my hands.

“You took off your ring.”

I looked at him.

“That is what you want to start with?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Martin Bell cleared his throat.

“My client is here voluntarily.”

Elena answered, “And my client is not here to negotiate reconciliation.”

Christopher flinched.

I did not.

He said, “Sabrina, I am sorry.”

“For which part?”

“All of it.”

“That answer is convenient.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

He looked at his attorney.

Bell said, “Christopher, answer only what you are comfortable answering.”

I almost laughed.

“Elena, can we leave?”

Christopher leaned forward.

“No. Please.”

I looked at him.

“Then talk.”

He took a breath.

“I knew about the trust.”

“For twenty-two months?”

“Longer.”

The room went cold.

“How much longer?”

“Before we got married.”

I stopped breathing for a second.

Elena put one hand near mine but did not touch me.

I asked, “How long before?”

Christopher stared at the table.

“My father told me after our third date.”

I heard my own voice become very quiet.

“Third date.”

“Yes.”

“What did he tell you?”

“That your mother’s family had an interest in the waterfront parcel.”

“Did he tell you what it was worth?”

“No. Not then.”

“Did he tell you to keep dating me?”

Christopher looked up.

“No.”

“Did he arrange for us to meet?”

“No.”

I watched his face.

“You are lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You knew my name before you walked into that coffee shop.”

He closed his eyes.

“That part is true.”

Elena whispered, “Sabrina.”

I raised one hand.

“No. I want this.”

I looked at Christopher.

“You knew my name.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“My father had a photograph.”

“Of me?”

“From an old trust file.”

“And you just happened to appear in my coffee shop?”

“No.”

“So Raymond sent you.”

Christopher’s jaw trembled.

“He told me to introduce myself.”

The room became silent except for the air conditioner.

I asked, “Was our first date real?”

He did not answer.

“Christopher.”

“Yes.”

“That is not an answer.”

“I liked you.”

“You were assigned to meet me.”

“I was told to meet you. I wasn’t told to marry you.”

“You expect that distinction to help?”

“No.”

“Did you love me?”

His eyes filled.

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

“I don’t know what that word means when you say it.”

He wiped his face.

“My father wanted access. Information. He wanted to know what you knew about the trust.”

“I knew nothing.”

“I figured that out quickly.”

“Then why stay?”

“Because I loved you.”

“Then why steal my mail?”

His face collapsed.

Bell said, “Christopher.”

He shook his head.

“No. She deserves answers.”

I said, “That is the first correct thing you have said.”

He looked at me.

“Raymond told me the sale would make everyone rich. He said the trust was outdated. He said your father had blocked progress out of spite.”

“And the contamination?”

“I did not know at first.”

“At first.”

“I learned there were environmental concerns last year.”

“Before the drugging started.”

“Yes.”

“You kept going.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because by then I was in too deep.”

I laughed once.

“That is not a reason. That is a slogan people use after they make ten separate choices.”

He looked away.

I leaned forward.

“Let’s count them. You knew my name before we met. You hid the trust. You intercepted letters. You photographed me unconscious. You lied about my symptoms. You let your mother give me something that made me black out. You helped your father bring strangers into the room. Which decision was the one where you were suddenly too deep to leave?”

Christopher whispered, “The first photograph.”

I went still.

“Explain.”

“Raymond said we needed leverage.”

“What kind?”

“Something that would make you sign if you became difficult.”

“You mean blackmail.”

“Yes.”

“What did he want the photographs to imply?”

Christopher covered his face.

I waited.

He said, “That you were cheating.”

“With Samuel?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“The first pictures were just meant to show you in a compromising situation.”

“My blouse.”

He nodded.

“My lipstick.”

He nodded again.

I felt nausea rise.

“Who touched my clothes?”

Christopher whispered, “My mother.”

I closed my eyes.

“Diane.”

“Yes.”

“Did Raymond ever touch me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You were taking pictures.”

“Not every minute.”

“Did Samuel touch me?”

“No.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes. He refused.”

“What did he refuse?”

“To pose closer to you.”

I swallowed.

“Why was he there at all?”

“He thought the meeting was about the transfer.”

“And Gregory?”

“Gregory was supposed to notarize the signature.”

“While I was drugged?”

Christopher’s attorney said, “We need to be careful with characterization.”

Elena turned toward him.

“Your client can characterize his own conduct.”

Christopher said, “Raymond said you would wake enough to sign.”

I stared at him.

“And if I didn’t?”

He said nothing.

“What was the plan?”

“Dad said we would wait.”

“Did he say forge it?”

Christopher’s silence answered.

I leaned back.

“So why this fourth dinner?”

“Because the title company rejected an earlier authorization.”

“What authorization?”

Christopher closed his eyes again.

“One with your signature.”

My skin went cold.

“I never signed anything.”

“I know.”

“Who forged it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Christopher.”

“I swear. I don’t know. Raymond had it.”

“And the title company refused?”

“They wanted in-person confirmation. Gregory said he could handle it if you signed in front of him.”

“So you drugged me to make me compliant.”

“I didn’t give you the medication.”

“You knew it was happening.”

“Yes.”

“You carried me upstairs.”

“Yes.”

“You locked the door.”

His eyes lifted.

“I did.”

That hurt more than I expected.

I looked at Elena.

“I need a minute.”

Christopher reached toward me instinctively.

I stood.

“Do not touch me.”

He pulled his hand back.

I walked to the far wall and breathed until the room stopped tightening around me.

Then I turned.

“One more question.”

Christopher nodded.

“Why talk now?”

He looked exhausted.

“Because my father’s lawyer told me Raymond says this was all my idea.”

I almost smiled.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“The moment your loyalty ended.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“No. Fair would have been you telling me before the first dinner.”

“I’m trying to help now.”

“You are trying not to go to prison alone.”

His face hardened for the first time.

“I could have stayed silent.”

“Yes.”

“I could have protected him.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not.”

“Because he stopped protecting you.”

Christopher looked away.

I returned to my chair.

“What does Raymond have besides the photos?”

Christopher hesitated.

Bell said, “We should stop.”

Christopher ignored him.

“A ledger.”

“What ledger?”

“A paper notebook. He doesn’t trust digital records for certain payments.”

“Payments to whom?”

“Consultants. Inspectors. People who helped with the environmental reports.”

Owen opened the observation-room door before anyone could stop him.

“Where is it?”

Bell stood.

“This interview is over.”

Christopher looked at Owen.

“I don’t know.”

“Who does?”

“Gregory might.”

Morales appeared behind Owen.

“Why Gregory?”

“Because he moved money for Raymond.”

Bell grabbed Christopher’s arm.

“We are done.”

Christopher stood.

Before leaving, he looked at me.

“Sabrina.”

I said nothing.

“I did love you.”

I held his gaze.

“Maybe you did.”

Hope flashed across his face.

Then I finished.

“But you loved being your father’s son more.”

His face emptied.

He walked out.

Elena waited until the door closed.

“Are you all right?”

“No.”

“Good answer.”

Morales sat where Christopher had been.

“Do you believe him about the ledger?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he mentioned it before he had time to improve the lie.”

Owen nodded.

“Where would Raymond keep paper records?”

I thought about the house.

The study.

The locked cabinets.

The way Raymond carried his onyx-ringed hand over the desk whenever anyone came too close.

Then I remembered something else.

“At dinner three months ago, Diane told him the wine cellar was getting too humid for documents.”

Morales looked up.

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘The important ones aren’t in the cellar anymore.’”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Elena said, “But Gregory might.”

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Morales stood.

“Then it is time we found Gregory Sloan.”