Chapter 8 - Grant’s Other Life
Grant had presented himself as a whistleblower.
According to Evan, he was much more.
“He fixes problems,” Evan said.
Cole kept her face neutral.
“What kind of problems?”
“Financial records.”
“And people?”
Evan hesitated.
“That too.”
I wanted to believe he was lying to save himself.
Then Cole showed him the threatening flower card.
Evan’s expression changed.
“That’s Grant’s wording.”
“How do you know?”
“He used to send messages before collecting debts.”
Nora looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Evan claimed Grant had once been Diane’s most loyal accomplice.
The professional scandal that supposedly ruined him had been staged.
It allowed him to disappear from public records while continuing to move money for Diane.
If that was true, every word Grant told us could have been designed to manipulate us.
Including what he said about Dad.
Cole asked about the folder with Nora’s name.
Evan nodded.
“Grant created the surveillance files.”
“Why?”
“My mother likes insurance.”
“And the car explosion?”
Evan looked away.
“I don’t know.”
Cole leaned back.
“Your wife was strangled until she lost consciousness.”
Evan shut his eyes.
“You did that.”
“Yes.”
“You left her outside a hospital.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to police.”
“Yes.”
“Now you want me to believe you are suddenly protecting her.”
Evan opened his eyes.
“I’m protecting myself.”
At least that part sounded true.
He told Cole that Diane had hidden emergency cash and documents inside an abandoned property once owned by my father’s company.
An old farmhouse sixty miles north of the city.
Dad had sold it years ago.
Or so I thought.
Cole checked ownership records.
The property had been transferred to a holding company.
MDR Holdings.
One of the shell companies that received my inheritance.
A tactical team went there that afternoon.
They found the farmhouse empty.
But someone had been there recently.
Food in the refrigerator.
Fresh tire tracks.
A laptop burning inside a metal barrel.
And beneath the floorboards, police found a locked box.
Inside was one of my father’s watches.
Thomas Bell’s wedding ring.
And Grant Wheeler’s wallet.
Three men.
Three personal objects.
Two dead.
One missing.
Diane collected trophies.
Or proof.
The farmhouse basement held something worse.
Medical supplies.
Disposable gloves.
Prescription bottles.
Sedatives.
And photographs of me.
Some taken through windows.
Some taken inside my house while I slept.
I had to stop looking.
Then Cole found a photograph dated four days before the attack.
It showed Grant standing beside Diane.
They were outside my office building.
Grant was handing her an envelope.
He had never stopped working with her.
His appearance at the hotel had been deliberate.
His confession had been deliberate.
Even the flash drive might have been deliberate.
Nora whispered.
“Why would Diane give us evidence against herself?”
I knew the answer before Cole said it.
“To make you trust Grant.”
My phone vibrated.
A text arrived from Grant’s number.
YOU FINALLY UNDERSTAND.
Then another.
NOW COME FIND ME BEFORE DIANE DOES.
May you like
A third message appeared.
I HAVE THE ORIGINAL RECORDING OF YOUR FATHER’S LAST NIGHT.
