Chapter 4 - The Sixty-Seven Million Dollar Lie
Daniel tried to run.
Martin caught him before the elevator.
“Move!”
“My daughter!”
“Running blind won’t help her.”
Daniel shoved him.
Martin barely moved.
I grabbed Daniel’s arm.
“Who sent the message?”
“Unknown number.”
“Call Lily’s school.”
“It’s seven thirty in the morning. She should be on the bus.”
“Call her mother.”
He did.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Daniel’s ex-wife called back.
Lily was home.
Safe.
The school had closed because of the storm.
Daniel nearly collapsed.
The message had been designed to scare him.
And it worked.
Martin took the phone.
“They’re watching your reactions.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Then they know I gave you the drive.”
We went somewhere no one expected.
Not Blackwood Tower.
Not my apartment.
Not the hospital.
Martin took us to a twenty-four-hour diner two miles west, sat us in a corner booth and borrowed a laptop from an off-duty detective he trusted.
No company network.
No employee accounts.
No traceable corporate device.
I opened Daniel’s flash drive.
The logs were ugly.
Hundreds of access records.
Vendor authorizations.
Payment overrides.
Deleted audit flags.
Most activity came through Daniel’s account.
But the IP routes originated elsewhere.
Executive Administration.
Operations.
Legal.
The pattern went back years.
Adrian had been right.
Sixty-seven million dollars.
Possibly more.
“Can we identify specific terminals?” I asked.
Martin leaned closer.
“Yes.”
We filtered by physical workstation IDs.
One belonged to Vanessa’s office.
I felt something cold settle inside me.
“There.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Too obvious.”
“What?”
“If Vanessa had been doing this for years, why leave her workstation ID?”
Martin agreed.
“Could be spoofed.”
We kept going.
Another terminal appeared repeatedly.
EXEC-17.
I didn’t recognize it.
Daniel did.
“That’s the private conference suite.”
“Who uses it?”
“Board members.”
My stomach tightened.
This was bigger than Vanessa.
We found a recurring authorization signature.
R.M.
Richard Maddox.
Chairman of Blackwood Industries.
Adrian’s late father’s closest friend.
The man who had helped Adrian take control of the company when he was twenty-eight.
Martin swore quietly.
Daniel stared at the screen.
“Maddox practically raised him.”
“Which makes him trusted,” I said.
“And dangerous,” Martin added.
My phone rang.
Adrian.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“Safe.”
“That is not a location.”
“Martin’s with me.”
A pause.
“Good.”
I told him about Maddox.
Silence.
Longer than I expected.
“You’re sure?”
“No. We have terminal records.”
“Send them.”
“Martin says no corporate devices.”
“He’s right.”
Something in Adrian’s voice had changed.
Pain, perhaps.
Not physical.
“Maddox knew about your arrhythmia?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“My doctor. Vanessa. Martin. Maddox.”
Four people.
One had saved him.
One looked suspicious.
One was his oldest family friend.
“Adrian.”
“I know.”
“We need the police.”
“Already involved.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Another silence.
Then:
“My father suspected money was disappearing before he died.”
I sat straighter.
“How long ago?”
“Six years.”
“Why wasn’t there an investigation?”
“There was.”
“And?”
“He died two weeks before the board meeting where he planned to present it.”
Daniel looked at me.
I put the phone on speaker.
“How did he die?” Martin asked.
“Heart attack.”
Nobody spoke.
Adrian continued.
“At least that’s what we believed.”
I felt sick.
“You think the same people killed your father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Adrian, somebody drugged you with something dangerous because of a heart condition only a few people knew about.”
“I know.”
“Then this isn’t only fraud.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“It’s murder.”
We contacted Detective Lena Ortiz from Chicago PD’s financial crimes task force.
By noon, the flash drive was in police custody.
By one, federal investigators had been notified.
By two, Blackwood Industries’ board had called an emergency meeting.
And at two fifteen, I was suspended.
The email arrived while I was sitting beside Adrian’s hospital bed.
EMPLOYMENT STATUS: ADMINISTRATIVE LEAVE.
“Seriously?” I said.
Adrian held out his hand.
I gave him the phone.
He read the email.
Then he laughed.
It hurt his ribs, so the laugh became a grimace.
“Who signed it?”
“Human Resources.”
“Authorized by?”
“Office of the Chairman.”
Richard Maddox.
Adrian handed the phone back.
“You’re not suspended.”
“The email says I am.”
“I own the company.”
“Apparently your chairman thinks otherwise.”
His eyes darkened.
“You have no idea how much I’m beginning to dislike that sentence.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, so did he.
Then his expression softened.
“You haven’t slept.”
“Neither have you.”
“I have morphine.”
“Show-off.”
A small silence settled between us.
Different from the others.
Warmer.
He looked at my bruised palms.
“Did I do that?”
“CPR did.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You were inconsiderately dying.”
“I’ll work on that.”
The smile disappeared slowly.
“Claire.”
“Yes?”
“I remember something.”
I leaned closer.
“The elevator?”
“Before it.”
“What?”
“I was in my office.”
His brow tightened.
“Someone came in.”
“Who?”
“I can’t see the face clearly.”
“Did they bring the coffee?”
“Yes.”
My pulse jumped.
“Do you remember anything else?”
“A ring.”
“What kind?”
“Gold. Black stone.”
I looked toward Martin.
He had gone still.
“Martin?”
He pulled out his phone.
After searching for a moment, he showed us a photograph from the company’s annual gala.
Richard Maddox stood beside Adrian.
On Maddox’s right hand was a heavy gold ring set with a black onyx stone.
Adrian stared at it.
His face became unreadable.
Then the hospital door opened.
Richard Maddox himself walked in.
Silver-haired.
Perfect suit.
Same gold ring.
Same black stone.
He smiled at Adrian.
“My boy,” he said.
May you like
Then he looked at me.
And his smile disappeared.
