Chapter 7 - The Dead Man
Raymond Hale was not dead.
Naomi confirmed it within an hour.
There had been no death certificate.
No obituary.
No funeral record.
Nothing.
Connor had simply told everyone Raymond died after a heart attack.
I remembered sending flowers to an address Connor provided.
They had been returned.
I had assumed the family wanted privacy.
Now every polite assumption I had ever made felt dangerous.
Raymond had worked as Apex’s security consultant for eighteen months.
Officially, his job was corporate threat assessment.
Unofficially, Marcus believed he had been monitoring employees.
Including me.
“Why me?”
I asked.
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
“Connor asked IT to mirror your email.”
“When?”
“Almost two years ago.”
That predated Brenwood.
Predated the forged lien.
Predated the supposed concerns about my mental stability.
Which meant Connor’s plan had started much earlier than I understood.
Naomi located Raymond’s last known address.
Vacant.
His professional license had expired.
His bank accounts showed minimal activity.
But a vehicle linked to his brother had crossed a toll bridge near Allison’s house that morning.
The same make and model as the SUV.
Naomi sent the information to local police.
Then Peter Langford called.
One of the Apex investors had found something.
We joined him at the company’s headquarters under investigator supervision.
Employees stood in small frightened groups.
Nobody knew whether they still had jobs.
I hated Connor for that more than I expected.
Apex was not only a balance sheet.
It was ninety-three people.
Mortgages.
Children.
Health insurance.
Retirement accounts.
Connor and Brenda had gambled with all of them.
Peter took us into the boardroom.
Three investors waited.
On the screen was a financial projection.
“Connor presented this six weeks ago.”
Peter pointed at a line titled Strategic Restructuring.
According to the plan, Apex would sell its core software licenses to another company after a “temporary liquidity crisis.”
“What company?”
Naomi asked.
Peter clicked.
Orion Ridge Technologies.
I had never heard of it.
Naomi searched the corporate registry.
Registered eight months earlier.
Delaware.
Its ownership was concealed behind a trust company.
Marcus leaned closer.
“Check the domain registration.”
The examiner did.
One technical contact had been attached briefly before privacy protection was activated.
The email address ended with haleconsulting.net.
Raymond.
The picture became clearer.
Drain Apex.
Force a liquidity crisis.
Push the company toward default.
Take my house and trust as collateral.
Move Apex’s valuable software into Orion Ridge.
Then leave investors, employees, and me holding the wreckage.
Connor had not been stealing randomly.
He had been preparing a controlled collapse.
But Peter had another question.
“Why would Connor destroy a company worth more than the money he stole?”
Naomi looked at me.
I knew the answer.
“Because he didn’t own enough of it.”
Everyone turned.
I still held thirty-eight percent of Apex.
Connor held twenty-two.
Outside investors held the rest.
He could not control a sale.
He could not remove me cleanly.
Unless I became incapacitated.
Or unless Apex failed.
Then Peter said something I had forgotten.
“Claire, your father invested in the original patent portfolio, didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Who inherits those patent rights if Apex becomes insolvent?”
I stared at him.
My father’s trust.
Not Connor.
Not the board.
The trust.
Which meant their plan had one fatal flaw.
Unless they controlled me.
Naomi’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed immediately.
Police had found Allison.
Alive.
She had walked into an emergency room thirty miles from her house.
No serious injuries.
No Raymond Hale.
But Allison was terrified.
May you like
And she was carrying something inside her coat.
The missing flash drive.
