Chapter 4 - The Place Amelia Chose)
The coordinates led to a lake house eighty-three miles north of the city.
Grant recognized the location before Detective Ortiz finished entering the numbers.
"My father owned property there."
"Still does?"
"No. He sold most of it before he died."
"Most?"
Grant remembered.
"There was a fishing cabin."
Margaret nodded.
"Daniel used to go there."
Ortiz decided Grant would not travel alone.
Two detectives followed in an unmarked vehicle.
Ben and Sophie remained with Margaret under police protection.
Grant hated leaving them.
Ben was the one who convinced him.
"If Mom hid something there, you need to find it."
Grant crouched beside his son.
"I don't like leaving you."
"We're with Grandma."
"That doesn't mean you're invincible."
Ben almost smiled.
"Neither are you."
Grant hugged him.
The drive north followed a narrow highway through wooded hills.
The cabin looked abandoned when they arrived.
Dark timber walls.
Broken porch rail.
Weeds along the steps.
Ortiz checked the door.
Locked.
Grant looked beneath an old stone planter.
A key remained exactly where Daniel used to hide it as a teenager.
"Family habits," Grant said.
Inside smelled of dust and damp wood.
They searched for almost an hour.
Nothing.
No files.
No safe.
No electronic equipment.
Grant stood in the old bedroom staring at a wall covered with faded marks.
His father used to measure Grant and Daniel's height there every summer.
DANIEL AGE 12.
GRANT AGE 7.
DANIEL AGE 15.
GRANT AGE 10.
Grant touched the pencil lines.
He remembered being brothers.
Before money.
Before betrayal.
Before eleven years of silence.
Ortiz called from the main room.
"Grant."
Grant walked out.
The detective held a photograph.
It had been hidden inside an old book.
Amelia and Daniel sat on the cabin porch.
The date was six days before Amelia died.
Grant's stomach tightened.
On the back, Amelia had written:
He finally told me everything.
"Everything," Grant whispered.
Ortiz opened the book again.
A rectangular section had been cut from the pages.
Inside lay a flash drive.
Grant stared at it.
"Second copy."
They took the drive directly to the county police office.
A forensic technician created a duplicate before opening any files.
There were hundreds.
Bank records.
Corporate documents.
Audio files.
Photographs.
Scanned passports.
One folder was labeled MERCER.
Inside was a spreadsheet showing forty-six transfers from the Mercer Foundation.
Total amount: $18.4 million.
Grant stared at the figure.
"How did I miss this?"
Ortiz answered.
"The transfers were routed through approved vendors. Someone manipulated invoices."
Grant saw Mason's digital authorization signature.
Then his own.
Forged.
Another folder contained photographs of Mason entering hotels with unknown men.
Vanessa appeared in nine pictures.
Daniel appeared in three.
Then the technician opened a video.
Amelia had recorded it secretly from inside a car.
Mason and Vanessa stood in a parking garage.
The audio was faint.
The technician increased volume.
Mason spoke first.
"You were supposed to control Daniel."
Vanessa answered.
"I tried."
"He has copies."
"Then get them back."
"What about Amelia?"
A pause.
Vanessa looked around the garage.
Then spoke.
"She'll stop."
Mason laughed.
"You don't know Amelia."
"I know exactly what frightens her."
"What?"
"Her family."
Grant's hands tightened into fists.
Vanessa continued.
"She won't risk Grant or the children."
Mason shook his head.
"You'd better be right."
The recording ended.
Grant stood.
"They threatened her."
Ortiz nodded.
"But this still doesn't prove they caused her crash."
Grant knew.
He hated that the detective had to say it.
The evidence proved fraud.
Conspiracy.
Threats.
Not murder.
Then the technician opened another file.
It was an email draft Amelia had never sent.
To Grant.
Grant read silently.
Grant,
I need you to believe me before you call Mason.
Something is wrong with the foundation accounts, but it goes beyond money. Mason is moving funds for people I can't identify. Daniel came back because he discovered the same network through one of his European companies.
Vanessa is involved.
She has been watching us longer than I realized.
If I tell you everything tonight, you will want to confront them.
Please don't.
There are people behind Mason that even Daniel is afraid of.
Grant stopped.
The message continued.
There is one thing I haven't told you.
Vanessa isn't Vanessa Reed.
Daniel says her real name is Evelyn Cross.
Ortiz immediately searched the name.
Nothing appeared at first.
Then one of the analysts looked up.
"We have an Evelyn Cross."
Grant turned.
The analyst's voice lowered.
"She was declared dead eight years ago."
Silence filled the room.
Grant stared at Vanessa's photograph.
A dead woman had entered his home.
Slept beside him.
Helped raise his children.
And had apparently known Amelia long before Grant ever saw her at that charity dinner.
Then Ortiz's phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
"Where?"
Another pause.
"Don't touch anything."
He ended the call.
Grant knew before asking.
"What happened?"
Ortiz looked at him.
"They found Mason."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
Grant exhaled.
"Where?"
"In an abandoned motel six miles from the airport."
"Is he hurt?"
"Badly."
Grant waited.
May you like
Ortiz continued.
"He keeps asking for you."
