The only good thing I can take comfort in is that I won’t see William anymore—not that I don’t want to see him, but it’s so hard to be with him and not do anything he asks. He’s only interested in friends with benefits, and I want more—I want it all. He’s been out of town dealing with his father’s mess, but he emails and calls every day. I think the distance will be good for me. If I stay, I know I’ll be devastated if I have to watch him move on to someone else. I just don’t think I could take it.
Chapter twenty-eight
William
Jim, a few members of his team, and I fly back to Philadelphia so he can help me figure out videos and all the paperwork my father left behind. When he presents me with the photos of the men who are abusing the girls, I’m dumbfounded. Henry Gray is one of the men. My father’s friend and my confidant—how is it possible?
I then identify the current president and chairman of the board of my father's company and three other board members. “What the hell kind of perverse company are we running that we have so many pedophiles?” I’m angry and disgusted. “How do they all work for my father’s company?”
“Unfortunately, these guys are probably all part of some group, and since they hang out together socially, they hook each other up with employment and other things.”
“I need to consult an attorney.”
“Yes, you do. We now have the names of five of the twenty-three. I also think we need to loop in a public relations team because once it is determined that four of these guys are part of your father’s company, it may very well tank the stock and the company. You could be looking at a total revolt of your products.”
“I agree. A good PR team can help us, hopefully, mitigate the destruction.” I look at the pictures of some of the other men, and I have to wonder if I know any of the others. “When do you want to go to the FBI?”
“I think we need to go soon.”
I nod. “Let me make a phone call.” I pull up the number of an attorney who has worked with our firm. Since it’s a federal case, she can help us, but she may not have the time, and she may not be interested. “Marci Peterson, please.”
“May I tell her who’s calling?”
“This is William Bettencourt with SHN.” I might as well name-drop, what harm can it do?
After a few moments, I hear, “Hello, William. How are you?”
“I’m well. Sorry to drop my company name, but I’m in Philadelphia and I’m in need of some representation when I meet with the FBI, and given I live in San Francisco, I thought it was more prudent you and I were close rather than have representation here in Philly.”
She takes a big breath. “I see. Without going into too much detail, what can you tell me?”
“I have Jim Adelson here on the phone.”
“Hi, Marci.”
“Hey, Jim, we need to stop meeting like this.”
I then proceed to walk her through my father’s death along with what we found in the safe-deposit box—very high level and with minimal details. “Wow, that’s quite a big deal.”
“Marci, we’d like to go to the FBI by Friday. If these guys were on to Reginald Bettencourt, they most likely know we have the tapes and other information. We have protection on William twenty-four seven, but I’d feel a lot better if we could hand this over to the FBI.”
“I understand, particularly if they were behind the crash of Reginald Bettencourt’s helicopter. It’s eleven thirty now. I can see what kind of flights I can get out of the Bay Area tonight. We can meet tomorrow and go see the FBI Civil Rights Unit in Philly. We’ll also need to hire Philly representation, so that if we need to turn something around in Federal Court quickly, we can do so without me losing a day to go back and forth,” Marci says.
“Marci, I have a plane at SFO. I think I’d like a few more of my team here, so I can bring everyone out together. They are flexible on departure time. What time works for you?” Jim asks.
“That would be incredible. Thank you. How about seven? I think I can wrap up here and move a few things around on my schedule for the remainder of the week,” Marci shares as she thinks through everything she needs to get done.
“That would work. I’ll have someone from my team pick you up at your home, or would you prefer your office?” Jim asks.
“Home is fine. I have your cell phone number. I’ll text over my address, and that way they’ll have both my phone and address.”
“I’ll also have the files and videos that we discussed brought to you by my team, so we won’t have to worry about getting it to you safely, and you can view it on the plane,” Jim offers.
“That would be so helpful. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Marci. I’ll set up a room for you here at the Rittenhouse Hotel. We can meet in my suite when you’re up tomorrow morning,” I tell her.
“I don’t know that I’ll be sleeping tonight,” she teases.
We work through a few more details before we hang up. Jim quickly begins calling members of his team, letting them know they’re wheels up at seven and giving them instructions to pick up Marci from her home by six thirty and drive her in.
There is so much anxiety in all the activity. I’d hate to see all the work my grandfather and father did go down the toilet, but if the company has more people involved than the four I recognized, then I’m not sure I care. Abusing young girls is completely unacceptable.
“So let’s go take a look at your family home. The guys and I can make that our base of operations if that still works for you?” Jim suggests.
“Absolutely. I think Harriett will love having you there. She’s a bit bored these days with the house empty.” We walk outside, and the weather is incredible. “It’s just across the park. You up for a walk?”
“Great idea. I did see in Gerald’s reports he went running with you and Quinn a few times.”
“Yes, that’s another thing Quinn and I enjoy doing together.”
Jim looks at me and smiles. “Gerald is staying in San Francisco with eyes on Quinn. Do you want me to pull him?”
“No. No way. I want her guarded tightly. She’s way too important to get swept up in this mess.”
Jim smirks at me. “I was only testing you. You’re not only at the cliff, but I think you’re close to going over.”
“I’m not only over, but I’m swimming downstream already.”
“Good to know. She’s a great lady.”
“That she is.”
When we arrive at the house, I alert Harriett and ask her to join us. “Harriett, Jim, and his team are going to be here for a while. They can stay in the third-floor bedrooms, and if need be, you can move into the family suites on the second floor. In fact, please set Jim up in my father’s room.”
“Yes, sir. How many are you expecting?”
I look to Jim for that answer. “There are three of us here now. Tonight I have six more arriving. Are you able to accommodate that?”
“Without a doubt.” Harriett beams, looking so excited to have reasonable guests. She scrutinizes him and apparently decides she needs to lay out her house rules. “There’s no smoking in the house, so if any of your team need to smoke, they need to cross the street to the park.” She looks him up and down in his black cargo pants and black T-shirt. “There are no feet up on the furniture, and I expect that your team does a modicum of help picking up after themselves.”
“None of that should be an issue.”
“I’ll place a buffet breakfast out at 7:00 a.m. each morning and a lunch buffet out at noon. Both meals will change from day-to-day and will be served in the dining room. Dinner will be served each evening at 6:00 p.m. If anyone won’t be able to make dinner, they need to let me know. I can order any drinks your team wants, and those are available along with any snacks they’d like.” She looks around. “I’ll send Marcus in, and he can help you run electrical and data lines into the sitting room for your teams if you’d like?”
Harriett is smart and efficient. She knows that nine peopl
e working together will need a lot of gear and the ability to work together closely. “That’s a great idea.”
“I’ll make the beds each morning and do the housekeeping here. Linen will be washed every four days.”
Jim’s eyes bulge a bit. “Yes, ma’am. I know my team will be thrilled with all of the meals and attention. Please don’t spoil them too much. They may want to move in permanently.” Jim winks at her, and I know she’ll do anything he asks. She’s putty in his hands.
She picks up a small walkie-talkie from her apron pocket. “Marcus, I’m here with Master William and Mr. Jim in the sitting room. Can you please join us?”
“I’m on my way,” says the voice over the radio.
In less than a minute, Marcus comes in with a tool belt that would be the envy of any carpenter I know. Wiping his hands on a towel, he nods to us. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
“Marcus, I’d like you to meet Jim Adelson. He’s with a security team, and they’re going to set up shop here in the sitting room for a few days,” I say.
Marcus looks Jim over carefully. “How many folks will be joining you?”
“There will be nine.”
He nods and says to me, “I have a dozen wooden tables that your mother used for dinner parties years ago. They’re rectangular and can seat four people at each table. I just refinished them earlier this summer.”
I like how he’s thinking. “Jim, these are roughly the size of an executive desk.”
“That sounds perfect. You have a dozen?”
“Yes. We can move the furniture downstairs to the basement, and I can set up electrical and digital for you. I think, even if you have about three dozen machines, we can get you over a terabyte of connection speed per device.”
Jim seems impressed.
Marcus looks to the ground. “Mr. Bettencourt often needed the high-power connections speed for his inventions, and I set that up a few years ago.”
Jim smiles. “Okay then, when can we start setting up?”
“I have a few hired hands I can call, and we’ll empty out the sitting room. I’m not sure when they can be here, but I don’t expect it to take more than two or three hours.”
Jim looks at Marcus. “Is it okay if I help? The two of us can clean this out—that is if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely. I don’t ask anyone to do anything I’m not willing to do myself,” Marcus assures him.
“I can help too,” I offer.
In less than forty-five minutes, the room is cleared of all furniture. We then bring up the tables. As we open the folding tables, Jim says, “These are nice wooden tables. You’d never guess they are folding tables.” He runs his hand over the oak. “Very nice. Where did you get these?”
“I made them,” Marcus says proudly.
In no time the room is set up. Harriett has made a really nice beef stew for dinner, and we eat well before we go back to work. It’s after midnight when we’re done. “The guys should be here before too long, and they’ll be able to set up as soon as they arrive. Great. Marcus”—Jim extends his hand—“you’re a real asset to our team. Thank you.”
He blushes. “Not a problem, sir.”
Jim and one of his team members escort me back to my suite at the Rittenhouse. I’m exhausted when I get there. Looking around the suite, I’m reminded of Quinn. I miss her more than I’ve ever missed anyone else. I order room service, and I call her while I wait.
Her voice mail answers. “Hey, it’s me. I identified five of the guys in the pictures. I’m devastated that Henry Gray is one of them, and the other four are senior executives from Bettencourt Industries. Marci Peterson is coming in tonight with Jim’s team, and I need to check with Greer on a good PR firm for when this breaks.” I rub my face. “I miss you so much, and I wish you were here. I’m going to eat and go to bed, but call if you can. I’d love to hear your voice.”
I hang up and hope that she’s just on the other line and can call me back later. My dinner comes, and I eat the cheeseburger and fries but don’t taste them. I make sure my phone is close as I crawl into bed, and I think I’m asleep before my head hits the pillows.
When my alarm sounds at six, I’m wasted and not really ready to get up. I check my phone and see no messages from Quinn. I’m sure it’s because she didn’t want to wake me, but I really wish she would have called—if only to hear her voice. Today’s going to be a rough day.
My cold shower gets my blood pumping, and I’m grateful for the carafe of coffee that’s been delivered to my suite, and I admire the breakfast set up the room service team has done. I need all the help I can get. It is exactly seven when the bell on my suite rings, and I see Marci standing there.
She extends her hand. “It’s great to meet you face-to-face, I just wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Thank you, it’s great to finally meet you too. Cynthia, in my office, raves about you.”
“That’s very sweet of her.”
“There’s coffee, tea, bagels, fruit, yogurt, and whatever else over on the table. Please help yourself while we wait for Jim.”
“I saw him earlier this morning. He was with his team getting their systems up and in place at what I understand is your family home.”
“Yes. It’s across the park.”
“Why are you staying here?”
“Jim thought it would be a little more secure.”
She nods. “We can probably start without him.”
I wave her to the dining room table, and I take a seat and wait for her to get herself unpacked and ready. “Mr. Bettencourt, may I call you William or Will?”
“William is fine.” I smile. She has this way about her that makes you feel at ease and ready to pour your heart out.
“I’ve had the chance to look through everything in the files. From what I understand, your father isn’t on any of the videos.”
“I only watched the first video and vomited, but Jim and his team went through and pulled stills of all the men, and I identified the ones I knew. None of them were my father.”
She’s taking notes. “Tell me about the five men you’ve identified.”
“The first video was of my father’s estate attorney, Henry Gray. He’s been our family attorney for many years. He handled my mother’s estate and has helped to manage the house here when it came into my possession after I turned twenty-five.”
“Why didn’t you take over running your own trust?”
“I didn’t know I had inherited it. I’d always assumed my mother left her estate—which included the house—to my father.”
She nods. “What’s your relationship like with Mr. Gray?”
“I don’t recall meeting him while I was growing up, but he’s been my father’s attorney for some time. When he called to tell me about the accident, he alerted me that my father included a clause in his will about me being married to collect my inheritance, which is why when I came a few weeks ago, I had Quinn Faraday join me.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“I’d like her to be.”
“She doesn’t want to be your girlfriend?”
“I don’t know.” I need this line of questioning to move on.
“So he suggested you facilitate a lie?”
“I think it was more about my stepmother. She was trying to take the house and all of my inheritance. I’m certain that when it came down to it, he’d require my marriage. I think this was just a façade.”
“And where is your stepmother now?”
“We’re not sure. She was angry at not getting the entire inheritance, so she cashed out her half and disappeared.”
“Has anyone called the police to report her missing?”
That alarms me. “No. She was very anxious for the money, so we figured she took it and ran.”
“Do you think she could have been part of this sex ring and that’s why she was so anxious to get out of town?”
I hadn’t thought of that before. “I would hope not.”
“Okay, tell me about the other four men you identified.”
“They are Carl Carmichael; he’s the CEO of Bettencourt Technologies. He’s been CEO of the company for almost as long as I can remember. He ran the business side, and my father oversaw the innovation and technology. They were a great match.”
“Is he married?”
“He was. I can’t say for certain if he still is. I met with him a few weeks ago when I was in town and signed a few things I was asked to as part of my role on the board of directors.”
“Did you read them over before you signed them?”
“Yes. They were about moving my father’s stock to the trust his will set up.”
“Did anything about him strike you as creepy?”
“No.” I shake my head.
“The other three are board members with me on Bettencourt Industries. I don’t know them beyond sitting in a room and attending stockholder meetings a few years ago.”
Marci interviews me for three hours. Jim wanders through at one point and then leaves again. When the room service staff arrives to remove the breakfast items and replace it with some sandwiches, she looks at me and says, “Let’s eat lunch, and then let’s call the FBI and let them know we’re coming in.”
“Do you just call the main number and they put you through to someone?”
Marci laughs. “No, I had someone I know in the San Francisco office give me the name and direct dial of the person we need to meet with.”
“How ugly is this going to get?”
“I’m not sure yet. Since you and your dad are not implicated at his point, you may be fine. The company may struggle.”
“I get that.” I sigh. “I have the name of a big-deal PR firm in New York to reach out to if we feel our internal staff and their PR company can’t handle it, or more people at the company are involved.”
“I’m curious to know if they know who any of the other men are.”
“I’m just not involved with the company enough to know if they all aren’t executive at Bettencourt Industries.”
Enchanted: (Billionaire Venture Capitalist #8): A Fake Fiancée Romance Page 21
