Chương 8
“That could be true.”
“It probably is.”
“Can you ask him to stay voluntarily until Elliot’s investigator arrives?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said he wants a lawyer.”
I stood very still.
“That doesn’t make him guilty.”
“I know.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Yes.”
Victor’s voice dropped.
“He said Grant told him the boxes contained personal files.”
“Did he believe that?”
“He says he did.”
“Why did he help him use the loading dock?”
“Grant told him Celeste wanted the boxes taken home.”
My stomach tightened.
“Celeste?”
“Yes.”
“Did he see her?”
“No.”
“Did Grant show him a message?”
“He says yes.”
“From her?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the unknown photograph on my phone.
The pieces were not fitting cleanly.
That usually meant someone was lying or everyone was telling only the part that protected them.
“What did the message say?”
“Marcos remembers it as, ‘Please help Grant get the archive boxes into the car before pickup tomorrow.’”
“Can he produce it?”
“It was on Grant’s phone.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
“Did Marcos see what was inside?”
“No.”
“Did he see where Grant went?”
“He says Grant drove out alone.”
“With the boxes.”
“Yes.”
“What about the second man in the photo?”
Victor hesitated.
“Mara.”
“What?”
“Marcos says that’s not him.”
I looked again at the image.
“Then who is it?”
“He thinks it’s Daniel Kerr.”
The name hit me so hard I sat down.
The former comptroller.
The man whose resignation had made Celeste whisper three years ago.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Daniel hasn’t worked there in three years.”
Victor’s voice turned careful.
“No.”
Then he said, “But according to security, someone used Daniel Kerr’s old employee badge to enter the loading dock at 8:42 last night.”
I kept Victor on the line while I opened the photograph again.
“Are you certain the badge belonged to Daniel?”
“That’s what the access system says.”
“Could the badge have been reassigned?”
“No.”
“Could someone clone it?”
“In theory.”
“I hate that phrase.”
“I know.”
“What happened to the badge after Daniel resigned?”
“It should have been deactivated.”
“Should have been.”
“Yes.”
“Was it?”
Victor exhaled.
“I’m looking at the archive now.”
I heard keys clicking.
“His access was terminated the day he resigned.”
“Then how did it work last night?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“The credential was reactivated yesterday afternoon.”
My coffee suddenly tasted sour again.
“By Grant?”
“No.”
I waited.
Victor stopped typing.
“The administrator account was Richard’s.”
For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.
“My father’s?”
“Yes.”
“Could Grant access Dad’s credentials?”
“Possibly.”
“There’s that word again.”
“This time it matters.”
“What time was Daniel’s badge reactivated?”
“Three seventeen p.m.”
Dad had texted me about the gala at four twelve.
Mom would have wanted you there.
I stared at the message as if the timestamp might rearrange itself.
“Can you tell where the login came from?”
“IT should be able to narrow the workstation.”
“Do it.”
“They are.”
“Victor, don’t tell Dad yet.”
There was a pause.
“That puts me in a difficult position.”
“I know.”
“He is still CEO.”
“For ordinary operations.”
“He will consider this extraordinary.”
“He can consider whatever he wants at eight-thirty with counsel present.”
Victor made a tired sound.
“You’re becoming very good at this.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“No.”
He hung up.
At 6:19, Elliot called before I could call him.
“I received Victor’s update.”
“Dad’s account reactivated Daniel’s badge.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me not to build a motive.”
“Don’t build a motive.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
“Because you need to hear it.”
“Someone using Dad’s credentials reactivated the badge five hours before Grant used it to move boxes.”
“That is what the records currently suggest.”
“What if Dad did it?”
“Then we ask why.”
“What if he didn’t?”
“Then we ask who had access.”
I paced to the window.
The delivery truck was gone.
A man in a fluorescent vest was sweeping broken glass into a dustpan by the curb.
“Why would Grant need Daniel’s badge?”
“Maybe he didn’t want his own access on the loading dock log.”
“So he knew the records were being tracked.”
“Likely.”
“And he used a former comptroller’s badge because?”
“We don’t know.”
I hated how clean Elliot kept the edges of things.
My mind wanted to fill every blank with betrayal.
He kept erasing the pencil marks.
“Daniel resigned three years ago,” I said.
“Do you know why?”
“Dad said burnout.”
“Do you believe that now?”
“No.”
“Call him?”
“I don’t have his number.”
“I’ll find it.”
“Elliot.”
“Yes?”
“What if Daniel is the one in the photo?”
“Then we ask why he was back.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“Then someone wanted the access logs to point to him.”
That landed harder.
I sat down.
“Can you get the original camera footage?”
“Victor’s preserving it.”
“I want the whole hour.”
“You will get it.”
“Not just the clip.”
“I heard you.”
I looked again at the unknown sender’s message.
Ask Richard why those boxes were supposed to be shredded this morning.
The wording bothered me now.
Not ask what was in the boxes.
Ask why Richard wanted them shredded.
It pushed suspicion in a specific direction.
Someone wanted me looking at Dad.
That did not mean Dad was innocent.
It only meant someone had an interest in what I believed.
At 6:34, I received another message from the same number.
You have until nine before he destroys the rest.
I stared at it.
Then another arrived.
Basement records room.
I called Elliot.
“Do not go there.”
“I haven’t even told you.”
“You made a noise.”
“What noise?”
“The noise you make before doing something reckless.”
“I do not have a recklessness noise.”
“You do now.”
I sent him the messages.
He read them while I waited.
“This feels manipulative,” he said.
“Because it is.”
“Good.”
“But what if it’s true?”
“Then Victor can secure the basement.”
“What if whoever is sending these is inside the hotel?”
May you like
“Then we do not announce that we know.”
“I want someone physically guarding the records room.”
