Chapter 5 - The Glass Wall
The visitor room at the Lew Sterrett Justice Center smelled of cheap floor disinfectant and cold metal.
Vanessa Cole was brought out by two female correctional officers. She was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit that hung loosely off her frame. Her hair, which had been perfectly styled in blonde waves when she stood in my hallway wearing my silk robe, was greasy, tangled, and pinned back haphazardly.
She sat down across from me behind the thick, bulletproof glass partition, her hands trembling as she picked up the silver telephone receiver.
I picked up mine. I was wearing a black tailored Chanel coat, my hair perfectly swept back, my mother’s pearl earrings catching the harsh fluorescent light of the prison room.
"Claire..." Vanessa’s voice came through the receiver, thin, cracked, and desperate. "Claire, please... you have to help me! I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know!"
"Didn't know what, Vanessa?" I asked smoothly.
"Grant told me you two were already legally separated!" she sobbed, pressing her face close to the glass, leaving a greasy mark on the surface. "He told me the house was his! He told me the pearls were bought for me! He said you were a bitter, crazy woman who was trying to ruin his life!"
"And you believed him because he gave you a Porsche and two million dollars in Saint Kitts?" I asked, my voice laced with mild curiosity.
Vanessa choked back a sob. "I was stupid! I was greedy! I admit it! But I didn't hit you, Claire! I didn't touch you! He’s the one who hurt you! Why am I sitting in jail while he’s walking the streets?!"
"Oh, he isn't walking the streets, Vanessa," I smiled gently through the glass. "He’s currently sitting in a cheap motel near the airport, eating gas station food, waiting for the FBI to pick him up on federal smuggling charges."
Vanessa’s eyes widened in horror. "The FBI?!"
"The two million dollars he transferred to your account in Saint Kitts came directly from an illegal FMC tariff skimming operation," I explained, leaning closer to the glass. "That makes you a co-conspirator in federal wire fraud, money laundering, and interstate transport of stolen property."
"No! No! I didn't sign anything! It was all Grant!"
"Your signature is on the bank opening documents in Saint Kitts, Vanessa," I noted dryly. "Along with a copy of your passport. Did you really think Grant Whitmore was going to risk his own name on an offshore account? He used you as a human shield."
Vanessa dropped the telephone receiver, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving with violent, uncontrolled weeping. The sound of her despair echoed through the small plastic speaker on my side of the glass.
I picked up my receiver again, waiting until she looked back up at me through her swollen, tear-filled eyes.
"I am going to offer you one chance, Vanessa," I said, my tone flattening into pure, unyielding business. "One single chance to avoid serving fifteen years in a federal penitentiary."
She grabbed her phone with both hands, nodding frantically. "Anything! Anything, Claire! Please!"
"You will sign a full, unreserved sworn affidavit detailing every financial crime, every asset transfer, and every conversation Grant Whitmore had regarding his intention to defraud Vance Capital," I instructed. "You will surrender every piece of stolen property, every luxury item, and every dollar sitting in Saint Kitts."
"I'll sign it! I'll sign it right now!" she screamed into the phone.
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"Good," I said, standing up from my chair and smoothing the lapels of my Chanel coat. "My lawyers will be inside with the paperwork in five minutes. If you miss a single detail, Vanessa... I will ensure the federal prosecutor asks for the maximum sentence."
I hung up the phone before she could answer, walking toward the heavy metal exit door without looking back once.
