Chapter 7 - The House That No Longer Felt Like Home"Mrs. Pearl! Answer me!"
"Mr. Keaton, step back. We're securing the property."
"Where is she?"
"She's alive. But someone broke into your house using paperwork bearing your name."
By the time I reached Belle Meade, two police cruisers were parked outside.
An ambulance stood beneath the old maple trees.
The front door was open.
I ran toward it.
A police officer stopped me.
"Sir, please identify yourself."
"Grant Keaton. This is my house."
He spoke into his radio.
A minute later, a detective named Olivia Reed stepped outside.
She was in her early forties, with dark hair pulled tightly behind her head and a face that gave nothing away.
"Mr. Keaton, your housekeeper is receiving medical attention."
"Is she hurt?"
"She fell during an altercation. She's conscious."
Relief nearly brought me to my knees.
"Can I see her?"
"After the paramedics finish."
"What happened?"
Reed studied me.
"A man entered the house claiming he had written authorization to retrieve corporate property."
"I didn't authorize anyone."
"That's what Mrs. Pearl told us."
"He attacked her?"
"According to her account, he attempted to take a laptop from the upstairs sitting room. When she objected, he pushed past her. She fell against a side table."
My hands curled into fists.
"Where is he?"
"He left before officers arrived."
"Did anyone get his name?"
"The identification he provided appears to contain false information."
I closed my eyes.
Marcus.
It had to be Marcus.
But I had learned enough to understand that suspicion wasn't proof.
Reed led me inside.
The house looked as though someone had searched it with desperate speed.
Drawers stood open.
Papers littered the floor.
A framed photograph of Corinne and me had fallen from the mantel.
The glass was cracked.
I remembered the day that photograph was taken.
We had been married for eleven months.
Corinne wore a pale blue dress.
I had my arm around her waist.
We were smiling at something the photographer said.
At the time, I believed happiness was something I could preserve simply by earning more money.
I never understood how much of it depended on being present.
"Is anything missing?" Reed asked.
"I don't know yet."
She pointed toward a small writing desk.
"Mrs. Pearl said the intruder was searching for a silver laptop."
Corinne's laptop.
She used it to manage household appointments, research community charities, and write letters.
I had once laughed at how seriously she took her volunteer projects.
Now I suspected her laptop contained information Marcus was desperate to recover.
"Was it here?" I asked.
"According to Mrs. Pearl, Mrs. Keaton took it when she left."
I exhaled.
At least Marcus hadn't found it.
An officer approached carrying a plastic evidence sleeve.
"Detective, we recovered this near the upstairs sitting room."
Inside was a printed authorization.
My name appeared at the top.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
It was a near-perfect reproduction of one I had used on previous corporate documents.
I stared at it.
"I didn't sign this."
Reed watched me.
"Would you be willing to provide known signature samples and your account of who might have access to them?"
"Yes."
"Your attorney can assist with that."
I looked at her.
"Detective, someone sent me photographs of my wife and baby. My business partner has been making threats. And now someone has broken into my home."
Her expression remained controlled.
"Have you saved the messages?"
"Yes."
"Then we need copies."
I handed her my phone long enough for her to record the relevant information using the appropriate procedure.
Afterward, I found Mrs. Pearl sitting in the ambulance.
Her left wrist was bandaged.
A bruise was forming along her cheek.
When she saw me, she tried to stand.
"Please don't," I said.
She sank back onto the stretcher.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
"I'll be fine."
"That man could have seriously hurt you."
She looked away.
"He frightened me."
I felt ashamed.
For years, Mrs. Pearl had kept our home functioning.
I had trusted her with the most personal parts of my life.
Yet I had rarely asked about hers.
"Do you have family nearby?" I asked.
She looked surprised.
"My daughter lives in Franklin."
"Please stay with her until the house is secure."
"I intended to."
"I'll cover your wages while you're away."
She studied my face.
"Mr. Keaton, I don't need you to buy my loyalty."
The words hurt.
"I wasn't trying to."
"I know."
She reached into her handbag.
"I found something before that man arrived."
It was a small folded piece of paper.
"What is it?"
"Mrs. Keaton left it inside one of Owen's baby books. I was packing the books to send to her when I saw it."
I unfolded the note.
Corinne's handwriting covered one side.
Mrs. Pearl, if anyone comes asking for the silver laptop, tell them it is no longer in the house.
And please remember that you were the person who held my hand when Owen entered the world.
Whatever happens next, I will never forget that.
Mrs. Pearl's eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't know she was planning to leave," she whispered. "Not until she asked me to help her pack."
I nodded.
"Did she seem frightened?"
"Yes."
"Of Marcus?"
Mrs. Pearl hesitated.
"Of what you might do when you found out."
I stared at her.
"I would never hurt Corinne."
She looked at me for a long time.
"Mr. Keaton, there are many ways to hurt someone."
I lowered my head.
There was nothing I could say.
Then Mrs. Pearl reached into her bag again.
"This was under the note."
She handed me a second paper.
It was a photocopy of a check.
The amount was $250,000.
The payee was a private investigative firm.
The signer was Marcus Bell.
But what caught my attention was the memo line.
KEATON FAMILY — SUBJECT: C. KEATON AND MINOR CHILD
I looked at Mrs. Pearl.
"Where did Corinne get this?"
"I don't know."
I checked the date.
The check had been issued six days before Owen was born.
May you like
And beneath the memo was a handwritten notation.
Phase Two begins after delivery.
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