Chapter 4 - Midnight Ambush"Thank you for calling Vanguard Financial Services. All representatives are currently busy..."
The automated voice droned on as I drove through the blinding rain toward Rachel’s house. I put the phone on speaker, listening to the hold music while my heart hammered against my ribs.
"Come on... come on..." I muttered.
"Representative Mark speaking, how may I help you tonight?" a young man's voice finally came through the speaker.
"My name is Arthur Pendelton," I said rapidly. "Account number 8841-902-11. There is an unauthorized transfer of eighty-five thousand dollars happening right now from my granddaughter’s custodial account!"
"Sir, let me look up the account... Okay, I see the account. I see a transfer request made by the primary custodian, Rachel Miller."
"I am the grantor and primary trustee!" I yelled over the sound of the rain. "She is attempting to divert minor trust funds into a commercial business account! It is fraud!"
"Sir, according to the documents signed in November, Ms. Rachel Miller was granted full managerial disposition rights over the funds."
My blood ran cold. The form she made me sign. She had disguised a power-of-attorney transfer as an investment reallocation form. She had planned this months ago.
"Listen to me, Mark," I forced my voice to remain calm, dropping into the authoritative tone I used to use when I managed an engineering firm. "If that transfer goes through tonight, you and your company will be named as co-conspirators in an elder abuse and grand larceny investigation. I am recording this call. Freeze the account immediately under suspicion of fraud!"
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. The sound of typing echoed.
"Sir... I can place a temporary forty-eight-hour fraud hold on the account, but you will need to provide a formal police report within that timeframe, or the hold will automatically lift and the transaction will process."
"Do it," I said. "Place the hold."
"The hold is active, Mr. Pendelton. The transfer is stopped for forty-eight hours."
I let out a long breath. "Thank you."
I slammed on the brakes as I reached the entrance to Rachel’s gated community. I didn't stop at the visitor gate; I drove right up to the barrier, pressed my resident pass from years ago, and when it denied access, I drove right around the side curb, tearing up the manicured grass.
I pulled up to their house. The lights in the master bedroom were blazing.
I got out of the car, carrying the heavy binder under my arm, and marched up the driveway. But before I reached the front porch, the side garage door opened.
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Dean stepped out into the rain. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was holding a heavy metal crowbar in his right hand.
"You old fool," Dean snarled, stepping into the dim light of the driveway. "You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?"
