Chương 10
“Victor.”
“I know.”
“Do not say his name to anyone yet.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Who prepared the manifest?”
“Grant’s office.”
“Who approved destruction?”
There was a pause.
“Your father.”
I closed my eyes.
“Signature or electronic approval?”
“Electronic.”
“From his account?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday at three twenty-two.”
Five minutes after Daniel’s badge was reactivated.
I sat down slowly.
Someone using Dad’s account had reactivated the badge and approved the destruction within the same five-minute window.
“Victor, can you tell whether those actions happened from the same workstation?”
“IT is checking now.”
“Tell them priority.”
“They know.”
A man spoke in the background again.
Victor sounded irritated.
“I have to deal with the vendor.”
“Don’t let the truck leave yet.”
“I can’t hold them indefinitely.”
“Get their paperwork.”
“Already copied.”
He hung up.
At 7:12, Dad called.
I answered immediately.
“The car left.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Security get the plate?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It belongs to a rental company.”
“That helps.”
“Not much.”
“Did they approach the house?”
“No.”
“They sat outside the gate for four minutes and left.”
“Did you recognize the vehicle?”
“No.”
“Celeste?”
“Her car is different.”
“Grant could rent one.”
“Yes.”
The way he said it made my chest tighten.
He had finally reached the point where his mind was willing to suspect Grant without Celeste translating the suspicion into family betrayal.
“Dad, I need to ask you something.”
“All right.”
“Yesterday afternoon, did you log into the hotel administrative system around three fifteen?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I was at the hotel, but no.”
“Where were you?”
“Foundation rehearsal.”
“Who was with you?”
“Celeste, event staff, Arthur, half the ballroom team.”
“Did you have your laptop?”
“In my office.”
“Unlocked?”
“No.”
“Who knows your password?”
“Nobody.”
I closed my eyes.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Celeste?”
A pause.
“She might.”
“Grant?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Do you reuse passwords?”
Silence.
“Dad.”
“I may have used the same password on an old family account.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What family account?”
“Photo storage.”
“Who had access?”
“Celeste.”
“And Grant?”
“He was invited years ago.”
“Did you ever change the password?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That is not a sentence I want to hear right now.”
“I know.”
“Someone used your administrative credentials at three seventeen to reactivate Daniel Kerr’s old badge.”
Dad went completely silent.
“At three twenty-two, the same account approved nine boxes for shredding.”
Still nothing.
“Three of those boxes left with Grant last night.”
“Mara.”
His voice was almost a whisper.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
This time I believed the fear in his answer.
Not innocence.
Fear.
“Dad, what was in Daniel’s audit files?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You were CEO.”
“They were historical controls, vendor reviews, internal reconciliations.”
“Did Daniel ever raise concerns about Grant?”
Grant had not officially joined the hotel until later, but he had been circling the business for years.
Dad hesitated.
“Yes.”
My pulse quickened.
“What concerns?”
“Northline.”
There it was.
“Three years ago?”
“Yes.”
“What did Daniel say?”
“That Northline invoices didn’t match work performed.”
“Then why did you tell everyone he resigned from burnout?”
“He did resign from burnout.”
“That’s not the whole story.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
Dad breathed out.
“He accused Celeste of pressuring him to approve vendor payments.”
The kitchen went still.
“What did Celeste say?”
“She said Daniel hated Grant.”
“And you believed her.”
“I believed there was personal conflict.”
“Did you investigate?”
“I asked Daniel for evidence.”
“And?”
“He said he would prepare a report.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he resigned two days later.”
The timeline clicked into place with an ugly precision.
“And then what?”
“He left.”
“Just left?”
“Yes.”
“No report?”
“No.”
“No files?”
“I assumed they stayed with finance.”
I thought about the three boxes in Grant’s SUV.
“Did Celeste ever talk to Daniel after he resigned?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Grant?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Daniel now?”
“Last I heard, Arizona.”
Elliot texted while Dad was speaking.
WE FOUND DANIEL.
I stared at the message.
Then another arrived.
HE IS NOT IN ARIZONA.
My pulse jumped.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Elliot found him.”
A pause.
“Where?”
I read the next message.
New Jersey.
Forty minutes from the hotel.
“New Jersey.”
Dad said nothing.
Then very quietly, “That doesn’t make sense.”
My phone rang.
Elliot.
I put him on conference.
“Richard, are you there?”
“Yes.”
“I have an investigator outside Daniel Kerr’s current address.”
Dad’s breathing changed.
“Is Daniel there?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“The property records are current, utilities are active, and a vehicle registered to him is in the driveway.”
I stood.
“So he could have been at the hotel last night.”
“Yes.”
“Can your investigator knock?”
“He can.”
“Then do it.”
“He already did.”
“And?”
Elliot paused.
“No answer.”
My skin prickled.
“Car there?”
“Yes.”
“Lights?”
“No.”
Dad spoke.
“Call the police.”
“On what basis?” Elliot asked.
“Something is wrong.”
“That is not a police basis.”
“His badge was used in suspected theft.”
“His old badge.”
“He may be involved.”
“Or someone wants it to look that way.”
I stared at the photo again.
The second man’s face turned away.
The maintenance jacket.
The anonymous sender pointing me toward Dad.
Too many arrows.
Too many people steering attention.
Then Victor called on my other line.
I told Dad and Elliot to hold and answered.
“Mara, IT has the workstation.”
“What workstation?”
“The one that reactivated Daniel’s badge and approved the shredding.”
My grip tightened.
“Whose?”
“It came from the executive office suite.”
“Dad’s office?”
“No.”
Victor took a breath.
“Celeste’s foundation office.”
Everything inside me went quiet.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Was anyone using the workstation at three seventeen?”
“We’re checking hallway cameras.”
“Check badge logs too.”
“We are.”
“And Victor?”
“Yes?”
“Do not call her.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not call Dad either.”
There was a pause.
“That may be difficult.”
“He’s already on my other line.”
Victor actually laughed.
May you like
“Of course he is.”
I merged the calls.
