CHAPTER 11
C HAPTER 11
R ae was still pondering her drive-time conversation when she was escorted into Dana Bowen’s office. Which was beyond wrong. But there was very little she could do about it. The PA asked if she wanted anything, assured Rae the firm’s senior partner would not be much longer, and departed. Having Rae wait inside the empty office was just like Dana. Wanting her to know that even on a day short on extra minutes, Rae was not just welcome, but trusted.
Three minutes later, the door opened and Dana walked in. “Rae. What a genuine pleasure.”
Rae stood and accepted the half handshake, half embrace, which Dana swiftly offered.
Dana Bowen was everything that Rae might have wanted to become. If only the Crystal Coast had not held her fast.
Dana was North Carolina’s preeminent corporate attorney and part-time professor at Wake Forest Law. She swung around her cluttered desk and seated herself. “I want to hear about everything. And I want us to plan a long, leisurely lunch. Preferably after a full eighteen holes. You do still play golf?”
“Badly.”
“But today is not the day, for which I am deeply sorry.”
“It’s so good of you to fit me in.”
Dana pushed a trio of files to one side, clearing the center of her desk. A habit that took Rae straight back. A sign Dana was shifting to full-bore intent. “Okay. Tell me what’s brought you here.”
“Day before yesterday, I met with the county sheriff, my uncle, a man I’ve known my entire life. He informed me that the DEA recently interrogated him regarding a property where I am the attorney of record.”
Dana Bowen was a solid woman, very precise, perhaps the most intelligent person Rae had ever met. Thirty-plus years of corporate litigation resulted in Dana possessing an almost perfect poker face. “Are you under suspicion?”
“They did not say. Only that Colton was not to inform me of their meeting. Which he didn’t, until I told him about the issue that’s brought me here this morning.”
The attorney’s crystal-gray gaze was not so much cold as penetrating. “An ongoing investigation by the DEA is not why we’re meeting.”
“No.”
She rose from her chair. “Just a moment.” Dana left the room, returned, seated herself, said, “Go on.”
Relating the core issue took less than ninety seconds. Even so, it was long enough for the room’s atmosphere to shift into a new level of tension. Rae actually found herself relaxing into the pressure. It felt beyond good to have someone share her unease.
Dana had been Rae’s favorite professor at law school. She had been one of the very few teachers to transition her lectures from classroom to real life. What it meant to be an attorney practicing law. The risks a big case carried. Just like now.
When Rae finished, Dana launched straight in. “Your power of attorney carries no restrictions. You’re certain of this.”
“I went back over the original documents and the addendum last night.”
“Let me make sure I understand. Landon Barrett originally hired you to serve as attorney in the purchase of his Atlantic Beach property with the very strange name.”
“Cape Fortune. Named after the bay that his property fronts.”
“You then handled a pair of further acquisitions, when he purchased the adjoining land.”
“Four and a half acres in all,” Rae confirmed. “After that were a couple of minor issues he asked me to handle. Then the sale of a business in New Bern. And a car rental company based in Fayetteville.”
“This was followed by Mr. Barrett granting you limited power of attorney to cover all necessary expenses related to the upkeep of his home and land whenever he went away.” Dana was basically resuming her professorial role, feeding back to Rae the details she had just shared. “Followed nineteen months later by an extension of said document, granting you full and unfettered powers to handle any and all Carolina-based legal issues whenever he was away.”
Rae waited. Here it came.
“This is rare, but not unheard of. You have proven to be a valued and trusted member of Mr. Barrett’s business and private interests. How much time did he spend in his Atlantic Beach residence?”
“Three, maybe four months each summer.”
“And the rest of the year?”
“His primary residence is listed as an apartment on Park Avenue.”
“You’ve tried to contact him there.”
“Mail, email, phone. Multiple times. After last autumn’s hurricane, I traveled up. I couldn’t find anyone who had seen or heard from him.”
“So the man effectively vanished over three and a half years ago.”
“Four years this August.”
“During which time, his Atlantic Beach home has been struck by two hurricanes.”
“The first took off part of his roof. Even with the insurance payout, making the necessary repairs reduced his accounts to almost nothing. I threatened the insurance company with a court case. We settled.” The memory was a bitter pill. “The house was left in a fragile state because the money simply wasn’t there to do everything needed.”
“Then last autumn our coast was struck by the hardest blow in decades.”
“Tore out windows,” Rae said. “Demolished his bayside deck. Shattered three of the northeastern supports. The place is uninhabitable. I brought in two local contractors. Both said it would be cheaper to tear down and rebuild.”
“Which leads us to the immediate issue. You hold power of attorney over a ruined house. Your client’s accounts are empty. The property taxes are in arrears. The county has now sent formal notice threatening to seize the house. Which leaves you with no option but to sell the property.” Dana began nodding slowly, her gaze shifting over the office’s far wall, as if reading her summation. “While this is happening, federal agents have questioned the local sheriff about your relationship to the missing client.” A pause; then, “You were right to come, Rae.”
“I’m so glad you could see me.”
“We need to make a careful and well-documented—” Dana was halted by Rae lifting her hand. “Yes?”
“There’s one thing more. I have a potential buyer.”
“What, already?”
“Since half an hour ago. His name is Curtis Gage, and he’s asked me to represent him. Curtis is part of a group and is ready to make a cash purchase. Today.” She pointed behind her. “He’s waiting in your lobby.”
* * *
When Rae emerged from the office, Curtis was nowhere to be found.
The secretary positioned by Dana’s door offered, “Your guest asked to use the empty conference room.”
Rae opened the door to find Curtis seated at the head of a polished oval table. He was bent over and making notes in a small leather-bound notebook, his ears holding white pods. His phone was positioned beside the pad, the screen showing a woman’s face. He nodded to something she said, spoke too softly for Rae to hear, then touched the screen and cut the connection.
Everything about the scene was wrong.
Okay, not wrong. Just entirely different. Rae tried to synch what she witnessed with the man she had once loved. And failed.
There was no hint of the sunburnt surfer, the man who held an ability to infect everyone around him with the joyous thrill of life. The ragged shorts and salt-encrusted slaps and rainwashed T-shirt that defined his wardrobe, the shagged haircut, the steady crystal-sharp gaze . . .
Gone.
This stranger was so intent on his notebook he was unaware of her observation. He wrote, pondered, wrote. Turned the page. Studied the blank sheet. Wrote again; this time, a string of numbers. His handwriting was tight, precise. Very self-contained. Very intense. Very . . .
He sighed, closed the notebook, leaned back, and realized she was there in the doorway. Instantly Curtis rose to his feet. “I’m sorry, I was just . . .”
“Working.” She stepped forward. It was time to treat Curtis as the client he wanted to become. “You need to understand what is happening.”
“Can we move forward with the property sale, that’s really all—” He was halted by her upraised hand. “Sorry.”
“As an attorney, having the legal authority to act on behalf of a client and using this power are two different things.” Under different circumstances, Rae would have smiled at her own words. They came straight from classes with Dana Bowen. “I am able to sell you the estate. My proper disposal of the property has reached a critical point because his accounts are zero, and because the owner has disappeared.”
Rae did not realize Dana had entered the conference room until she heard the older woman ask Curtis, “Do you know the current owner?”
“No.”
“You have never had contact with him or his representatives before this moment?”
“Absolutely not.” Curtis looked from one woman to the other. “What’s going on?”
“The sale must happen because property taxes are overdue,” Rae continued. “Unless I take this step, the authorities are obligated to place a lien on the estate. I have a duty to preserve my client’s assets. This responsibility is more important than holding on to the house.”
Curtis demanded, “Is that a yes to the sale?”
“There are extenuating circumstances regarding this estate,” Rae said.
“What does that mean, ‘extenuating’?”
This time, it was Dana who replied. “Can you provide us with concrete evidence that you are ready to move forward with the purchase?”
Curtis pointed to the phone still resting on the table. “Give me the sale price and I’ll have the funds in escrow within a couple of hours.”
Dana asked, “Rae?”
“A professional surveyor has valued the property at around three million.”
“When was this?”
“Last week.”
Dana told Curtis, “You need to come up with your own valuation before we can move forward.”
Curtis pointed to his phone. “I hope to have that in a couple of hours.”
“Just one moment.” Dana now used the ironclad tone Rae had last heard when her former professor had been arguing a case before the federal bench. “Because of issues we cannot divulge, we are required to establish a legal record of these proceedings.”
Curtis frowned. “You’ve lost me.”
“We have questions that must be answered to my full satisfaction before any sale can move forward. I suggest we meet here this afternoon. The judge trying today’s case has something else on his afternoon docket. I should return by two.”
Curtis showed impatience. “This is a strange way to treat a cash buyer when you’re facing—”
“Yes or no,” Dana said. “I’m due in court.”
“I suppose . . . yes.”
“I will see you here at two. Be on time.” Dana started for the door. “Rae, walk with me.”