Chapter 3 - the man at the funeral)
Grant Hale smiled when Rachel opened the door to his office the next afternoon.
That smile had once made her feel safe.
Now she studied it.
The expensive teeth.
The practiced warmth.
The slight tilt of his head that made everyone feel as though he had been waiting specifically for them.
"Rachel."
He came around the desk and hugged her before she could decide whether she wanted him to.
"I'm surprised."
"So am I."
Grant released her.
"Everything okay?"
"I wanted to ask you about Daniel."
The smile changed.
Only slightly.
But Rachel had spent thirteen years working in emergency rooms.
She had watched people lie about drugs, injuries, spouses, children, violence, money, guns, falls, and accidents.
Fear had patterns.
So did deception.
Grant walked back behind his desk.
"Of course."
Rachel looked around.
Hale Carter Development occupied the top floor of a renovated brick warehouse outside Baltimore.
Daniel and Grant had started the company when they were twenty-eight.
Daniel handled engineering and construction.
Grant handled investors.
Together they had built something worth nearly forty million dollars.
After Daniel died, Grant became sole operating partner.
Vanessa inherited Daniel's voting shares temporarily until Noah's trust became active.
Rachel had never cared about those details.
Now she wondered if she should have.
She sat.
"Did Daniel hire a private investigator?"
Grant blinked.
"Not that I know of."
"Michael Reeves."
Nothing.
Rachel watched closely.
"Name familiar?"
"No."
Grant leaned back.
"Why are you asking?"
"Mom found a receipt."
Grant's eyes dropped toward her hands.
Rachel had deliberately brought nothing.
"What kind of investigation?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
Grant exhaled.
"Daniel was under a lot of stress near the end."
"Near the end?"
"You know what I mean."
"No, actually."
Grant looked uncomfortable.
"Work stress. The baby coming. Marriage problems."
Rachel kept her face still.
"Marriage problems?"
He seemed to realize he had moved too quickly.
"Nothing dramatic."
"Daniel told you that?"
"Sometimes."
"He never told me."
"Brothers don't tell sisters everything."
"Best friends do?"
Grant smiled sadly.
"Sometimes."
Rachel leaned forward.
"Was Vanessa having an affair?"
The question landed.
Grant's right hand tightened around his pen.
Then he laughed.
"Where did that come from?"
"Daniel wrote something."
"What?"
"Answer the question."
Grant's face hardened for the first time.
"No. As far as I know, Vanessa was not having an affair."
Rachel noticed the careful wording.
As far as I know.
"What about you?"
Grant stared at her.
"What about me?"
"Was Daniel investigating you?"
A long silence.
Then Grant stood.
"I think grief is making this conversation ugly."
"Maybe."
"He loved you. I understand that you're looking for answers."
"I'm looking for one answer."
"What?"
"Why were your initials on the back of the investigator's receipt?"
Grant's face stopped moving.
Rachel knew then.
Not what he had done.
But that something existed.
He walked toward the windows.
Below them, construction crews moved between buildings.
"I have no idea."
"You're lying."
Grant turned.
"Be careful."
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
"Was that a threat?"
"It was advice."
"From my dead brother's best friend?"
Grant's voice dropped.
"You don't know what Daniel was dealing with."
"Then tell me."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
Grant looked at the door.
The meeting was over.
Rachel stood.
Before leaving, she said, "Did Daniel own a small black voice recorder?"
Grant's face drained.
Only for a second.
That was enough.
Rachel smiled without humor.
"Thanks."
"Rachel."
She stopped.
Grant came closer.
"Whatever you're digging into, stop."
There was no warmth now.
No polished sympathy.
Just a man who had forgotten how he was supposed to look.
Rachel stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because Daniel is dead."
"That's exactly why."
Grant lowered his voice.
"You have your mother. You have your job. You have a life. Don't turn his death into something it wasn't."
Rachel stepped closer.
"What was it?"
Grant's jaw tightened.
"A tragedy."
Rachel opened the door.
Behind her, Grant said, "How's Vanessa?"
Rachel looked back.
The question sounded casual.
It was not.
"Why don't you ask her?"
Grant did not answer.
Rachel left.
In the elevator, her phone vibrated.
Margaret.
Rachel answered instantly.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Rachel closed her eyes.
"Mom, never start a call with nothing."
"Vanessa left."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Is Noah with you?"
"Yes."
Rachel relaxed slightly.
"Did she say anything?"
"She packed some clothes."
"For herself?"
"I think so."
"Did she take the diaper bag?"
"No."
Rachel opened her eyes.
"What bag?"
"The blue one Daniel bought before Noah was born."
Rachel remembered it vaguely.
Dark blue.
Canvas.
Daniel had joked that every baby bag looked like luggage designed for a tiny dictator.
"Why does that matter?"
"It doesn't. I just noticed she searched through it before she left."
Rachel's stomach tightened.
"Searched for what?"
"I don't know."
"Where is it now?"
"By the door."
Rachel pressed the elevator button repeatedly even though the doors were already closing.
"Mom, listen to me."
"What?"
"Take Noah and go to your house."
"Rachel."
"Now."
"I thought you wanted me there."
"I changed my mind."
"What happened with Grant?"
"He's lying."
Margaret became silent.
Rachel continued.
"And he knew about the recorder."
"How?"
"I asked him."
"And?"
"He looked like I'd put a gun on his desk."
The elevator doors opened.
Rachel hurried through the lobby.
"Go home. Lock the doors. Don't tell Vanessa where you are."
Margaret hesitated.
"She'll accuse me of kidnapping him."
"Then call me from the car and I'll call police to document why you're leaving."
Rachel reached the parking lot.
"Mom?"
"Okay."
"Take the blue bag."
"Why?"
"Because Vanessa searched it."
"You think the recorder is inside?"
"I don't know."
"But she searched it."
"Yes."
Rachel reached her car.
Then Margaret whispered, "Rachel."
"What?"
"There's a car parked across the street."
Rachel froze.
"What kind?"
"Black SUV."
"Can you see the driver?"
"No."
"License plate?"
"Too far."
Rachel looked back toward Grant's office building.
Through the glass above, she could see a figure standing near the window.
Grant.
Watching her.
Rachel lowered her voice.
"Don't leave through the front."
"Then how?"
"Take Noah. Take the bag. Go out through the garage. I'll meet you."
"What if the car follows?"
"Call 911."
Rachel started her engine.
Margaret whispered, "I hate this."
"So do I."
Rachel pulled out.
At the intersection, she checked her mirror.
A black SUV exited the business complex behind her.
May you like
For the first time, Rachel stopped wondering whether Daniel's death had been an accident.
She started wondering how many people were still in danger because of it.
