Chapter 4 - The Midnight Knock
The next morning broke clear and bright over the bayou, the morning sun casting golden reflections across the surface of the inlet behind their house. Maisie was seated at the kitchen island, happily eating blueberry pancakes while chattering about the dress she planned to wear for her first day of summer art camp.
Nora poured coffee for Julian, who was reviewing a series of land title deeds spread across the marble counter. His phone had already buzzed five times before eight in the morning.
“Arthur has three senior researchers at the Jackson County chancery clerk’s office right now,” Julian said, taking a sip from his mug. “The document Gavin attached to that letter references a deed book from 1994 that was water-damaged during Hurricane Georges and partially reconstructed from microfiche.”
Nora tied her hair back into a loose ponytail, her mind racing. “My grandfather never mentioned his brother selling anything to the Albrights. Uncle Thomas moved to Pensacola in the late eighties and rarely came back to Mississippi. He and my grandfather were close, but Thomas never made financial decisions without Harold’s consent.”
“Gavin’s father, Richard Albright, was a commercial appraiser back then,” Julian noted, tapping a finger on a yellowed ledger scan. “He handled estate valuations for probate courts across three counties. If there was an unrecorded deed or a disputed boundary, Richard Albright would have had access to the filings before anyone else.”
Before Nora could reply, the chime of their front gate sounded through the intercom system.
Julian glanced at the security monitor mounted near the pantry. A sleek black sedan was idling at the wrought-iron gates at the end of the driveway. Julian pressed the talk button. “Yes?”
“Mr. Vance, this is Arthur Davies. I have someone with me you need to see immediately.”
Julian unlocked the gate and turned to Nora. “Take Maisie into the garden for a few minutes. Let’s see what Arthur has brought us.”
Nora guided Maisie out the French doors into the shaded backyard, where the azaleas were in full bloom. But instead of staying outside, Nora remained near the porch, watching through the open kitchen window as the front door opened.
Arthur Davies, a tall, impeccably dressed attorney in his late fifties with sharp gray eyes, entered the foyer. But he wasn’t alone.
Walking behind him, looking completely disheveled in an oversized cardigan and carrying a heavy leather briefcase, was Brenda Finch.
Nora stepped back into the house, unable to hide her astonishment. Brenda looked as though she hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. The smug confidence she had displayed at the wedding five years ago—and the desperate panic from the terrace the night before—had completely evaporated, replaced by an exhaustion so profound she could barely hold her head up.
“Brenda?” Nora asked, stepping into the living room.
Brenda stopped in the center of the room. She looked around at the warm family home, at the framed photographs of Nora, Julian, and Maisie laughing on a beach trip, and pressed a trembling hand against her mouth.
“I didn’t want to come here,” Brenda whispered, her voice cracking. “Gavin doesn’t know I’m here. If he finds out, he’ll... I don’t even know what he’ll do.”
Julian remained standing near the fireplace, his posture rigid. “Davies, why is she here?”
Arthur Davies placed a heavy file folder on the low coffee table. “Mrs. Albright came to my downtown office an hour ago. She brought something that changes the legal landscape of this dispute entirely.”
Brenda opened her leather briefcase with shaking hands and pulled out a stack of original financial ledgers, their edges yellowed with age, bound by cracked leather straps.
“Five years ago, when Gavin decided to leave Nora,” Brenda began, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, “he didn't just decide he wanted a different life. He had already embezzled nearly two hundred thousand dollars from the Albright family investment trust—money that belonged to his father’s partners.”
Nora stared at her. “What does that have to do with my divorce?”
Brenda finally looked up, meeting Nora’s eyes. Tears welled in her lashes. “He used your father’s name, Nora. Your father, David Miller, was a certified public accountant who did occasional freelance audits for Gavin’s firm. Six months before your father passed away, Gavin had him sign off on what your father thought were standard year-end closing statements. But Gavin had altered the reconciliation pages. He made it look like your father had authorized an offshore transfer to an account in the Cayman Islands.”
Nora felt the breath leave her lungs. Her father had died of a sudden heart attack four years ago, always carrying a quiet, unspoken stress during his final months that he had refused to explain to her.
“Gavin told your father that if anyone looked into the missing money, your father would go to federal prison,” Brenda continued, a tear spilling down her cheek. “Your father didn't take a dime, Nora. He was horrified. But he kept quiet to protect you, because Gavin promised that as long as your father stayed silent, the audit would never be submitted.”
“And then?” Julian asked, his voice dead and menacing.
“And then Gavin divorced Nora,” Brenda sobbed. “He knew your father’s health was failing. He wanted to detach himself from the Miller family before the fraud was discovered. He thought if he married me—because my family owned Finch Logistics—he could use my father’s credit lines to replace the stolen money before the IRS noticed.”
Brenda dropped to her knees beside the coffee table, her hands clutching the edges of the ledgers.
“He lied to me, Nora. He told me he was leaving you because you didn’t understand his ambitions, because you were cold, because you didn’t care about his future. I was stupid. I believed him. But over the last two years, my father’s business went bankrupt trying to keep Gavin’s shell companies afloat. And now... now Gavin is trying to use a fraudulent land claim to extort Julian, because federal auditors from the Department of Transportation are reviewing every firm connected to the port project.”
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Brenda looked up at Nora, her face pale and hollow.
“If the federal auditors pull the records for Albright Holdings, they’re going to find your father’s name on those forged transfer receipts. Gavin is planning to blame your dead father for everything.”
