Chapter 7 - EVELYN’S SECRETEvelyn requested to see me privately.
Barely.
The bullet entered beneath his collarbone, missed his heart by less than two inches and lodged near his spine.
Police called the shooting an attempted assassination.
Vance Meridian called it a random act of violence.
Evelyn called me six times from the hospital.
I answered none of them.
By evening, every major Seattle news outlet was reporting that billionaire heir Derek Vance had been shot while meeting privately with his late brother’s widow.
And somehow, within three hours, anonymous sources began suggesting I had arranged the meeting.
“That was fast,” Natalie said.
We were watching the news from Benjamin’s safe apartment.
A reporter stood outside Harborview.
“Police have not identified Mrs. Harper Vance as a suspect…”
“Not yet,” I said.
Benjamin closed his laptop.
“The narrative is already spreading online. Greedy widow. Family dispute. Twenty-five-million-dollar settlement.”
“They leaked the offer?”
“Looks like it.”
Lena sat at the table with a bandage over her temple.
“They’re building motive.”
I looked at her.
“For Marcus too?”
She nodded.
“If they can prove you knew you inherited his shares, they can imply you benefited from his death.”
I almost laughed.
“So I killed my husband and then shot his brother in a restaurant filled with witnesses?”
“Logic matters less than repetition.”
Benjamin’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
We waited.
He hung up.
“The police want to question Harper.”
Natalie said, “With an attorney.”
“Absolutely.”
But I was thinking about Derek’s last words before he lost consciousness.
Locker sixty-two.
Ferry terminal.
“What terminal?”
Benjamin looked at me.
“There are several.”
“He said ferry terminal.”
“Coleman Dock is the obvious one.”
“Too obvious.”
Lena suddenly spoke.
“Marcus used Bainbridge.”
I looked at her.
“For what?”
“When he needed to meet me away from the office, we sometimes took the ferry as walk-on passengers.”
Benjamin grabbed his coat.
“Bainbridge terminal.”
Locker sixty-two was inside an old passenger storage area near the terminal parking facility.
Derek had hidden the key inside the envelope with the garage receipt.
The locker opened with a metallic click.
Inside sat a cheap backpack.
Nothing else.
Benjamin removed it carefully.
We took it to a private room before opening it.
Inside were three items.
A burner phone.
A notebook.
And a red flash drive.
Lena recognized it.
“That’s Marcus’s.”
My heart stopped.
“How do you know?”
“I gave him that drive after our second meeting.”
The red drive contained copies of emails.
Dozens.
Most involved Gordon Price.
One included Leonard.
Several involved a security firm called Aegis Meridian.
Benjamin scanned the names.
“They handle executive protection for Vance.”
I remembered the men outside Natalie’s apartment.
Another email contained a sentence that made everyone silent.
M.V. WILL NOT BE A PROBLEM AFTER FRIDAY.
Sent by Gordon.
To an address labeled only L-17.
Friday was the day Marcus died.
I felt as if someone had punched me.
“That’s enough,” Natalie whispered.
“For what?”
“For police.”
Benjamin shook his head.
“Not yet.”
I turned on him.
“Gordon wrote that Marcus wouldn’t be a problem after Friday.”
“And his attorney will say he meant Marcus was being removed as CEO.”
“There’s more.”
“Which is why we keep going.”
I hated that he was right.
The notebook belonged to Derek.
It contained dates and transaction numbers.
His own theft.
He had documented everything.
Twelve million dollars.
But beginning six months earlier, Derek had also begun tracing the larger fraud.
“He was helping Marcus,” I said.
Lena nodded.
“Eventually.”
The burner phone required a code.
I tried Marcus’s usual numbers.
Nothing.
Benjamin tried combinations from Derek’s notebook.
Nothing.
Natalie picked it up.
“What would a spoiled rich man use?”
“His birthday,” Benjamin said.
“Too obvious.”
“His car?”
“Which one?”
Exactly.
I looked at the lock screen.
Four digits.
Then I remembered something.
At our wedding, Derek had given a drunken speech about how Marcus had saved him from drowning when Derek was fourteen.
“What year was Derek fourteen?”
Benjamin searched public records.
“2011.”
Natalie typed 2011.
The phone unlocked.
“Never underestimate childhood trauma.”
There were only seven text threads.
One was Marcus.
I opened it.
The last exchange had occurred on the day Marcus died.
MARCUS: I know you took the 12. I don’t care about the money right now.
DEREK: Easy for you to say.
MARCUS: You can hate me later. Tell me who taught you how to move it.
DEREK: Gordon.
MARCUS: Did Mother know?
Three minutes passed before Derek’s reply.
DEREK: She knows everything.
I stopped breathing.
Next message.
MARCUS: Meet me. 6 PM.
DEREK: You’re not going to like what I have.
MARCUS: I haven’t liked anything for six months.
Then, at 7:03:
DEREK: Don’t drive your car.
My heart slammed.
Marcus never responded.
“What time did Marcus leave the building?” I asked.
Benjamin checked.
“7:11.”
Derek had warned him eight minutes earlier.
Too late.
Another thread was with someone identified as ROB.
Robert Ellis.
The mechanic.
Derek: Did G tell you why he wanted Marcus’s car?
Rob: Recall inspection.
Derek: There is no recall.
No response.
Then at 8:02 p.m.:
Rob: Call me. Now.
At 8:19:
Rob: I didn’t know who the car belonged to until after.
At 8:23:
Rob: They told me to change one line and disable the warning sensor.
At 8:25:
Rob: I think they’re going to kill him.
Marcus’s crash was reported at 9:06.
My knees weakened.
“There.”
Natalie covered her mouth.
“Proof.”
Benjamin looked grim.
“Evidence.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Proof survives court.”
Lena took the phone.
“We need Robert.”
“If he’s alive.”
I scrolled farther.
At 9:32, Rob sent one final message.
I KEPT THE ORIGINAL PART.
Then silence.
An original brake component.
Physical evidence.
I looked at Benjamin.
“Find him.”
We used every piece of information we had.
Payroll records.
Property searches.
A sister in Spokane.
A former wife in Idaho.
Nothing.
Then Natalie noticed a payment in Derek’s notebook.
Every month, exactly $2,400 went to a company called Cascade Marine Storage.
Benjamin searched corporate records.
“It’s a boat storage facility near Anacortes.”
We drove north before sunrise.
The manager initially refused to give us information.
Then I showed him Robert’s photograph.
His face changed.
“That’s not his name here.”
“What name?”
“Eli Turner.”
“Is he here?”
The manager pointed toward the back slips.
“Boat twelve.”
Robert Ellis was living inside an old fishing boat.
When he saw us approaching, he reached for a shotgun.
Benjamin raised his hands.
“We’re not with Vance.”
Robert laughed bitterly.
“Everybody says that.”
I stepped forward.
“My name is Harper Vance.”
His face went white.
“Marcus’s wife?”
“Yes.”
He lowered the gun.
“Oh, God.”
“You worked on my husband’s car.”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t know.”
“Tell me.”
“They brought it in. Gordon’s security chief said a sensor needed disabling because Mr. Vance was getting false brake warnings. He gave me a replacement hydraulic bypass assembly.”
“You installed it?”
“Yes.”
“What did it do?”
Robert swallowed.
“It would work normally for a while. Then pressure would bleed out.”
My throat closed.
“So Marcus stepped on his brakes—”
“And nothing happened.”
Natalie turned away.
I forced myself to continue.
“You kept the original part?”
Robert nodded.
“After Derek called me, I panicked. I pulled the work records and realized the replacement wasn’t authorized by Mercedes. I knew what they’d done.”
“Where is the original?”
Robert looked toward the boat.
“Safe.”
“And the replacement?”
“Probably still in the wreck.”
“Will you testify?”
Fear filled his face.
“They’ll kill me.”
“They tried to kill Derek yesterday.”
“I know.”
“They killed Marcus.”
Robert shut his eyes.
I stepped closer.
“You are the only living person who can explain exactly how they did it.”
He looked at me.
“I have a daughter.”
“Then help us make sure these people can never reach her.”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
Inside the boat, Robert opened a steel safe.
The original brake component sat inside an evidence bag.
Beside it was something unexpected.
A small black recording device.
“What’s that?”
Robert’s face went pale.
“The security chief dropped it in my work bay.”
Benjamin picked it up carefully.
We played the only saved recording.
Gordon Price’s voice came first.
“Ellis doesn’t need to know the vehicle.”
Another man responded.
“What if the widow asks questions?”
My entire body went rigid.
Gordon laughed.
“She won’t have time.”
The second man spoke again.
“And Derek?”
A pause.
Then Gordon said:
“After Marcus, we deal with the spare.”
Robert whispered, “I think ‘spare’ means his brother.”
Benjamin nodded.
I stared at the recorder.
Marcus was dead.
Derek had been shot.
And his family was being erased one member at a time.
But Gordon had made one mistake.
May you like
He thought I was only the widow.
He had no idea I had become the witness Marcus left behind.
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