Briarstone Advisory.
The name had appeared in Arthur Mercer’s old financial records.
Now it appeared in my company’s business network.
“How?” Hayes asked.
Evelyn turned a page.
“Through a series of subcontracting arrangements. Ironline handled freight for a manufacturer that leased equipment through Halden. Halden had consulting agreements with Westbridge. Westbridge made payments to Briarstone.”
I stared at her.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything improper happened at Ironline,” she said quickly. “But Tessa noticed several unusual billing references.”
I wrote:
DID SHE FIND FRAUD?
“Not conclusively.”
She paused.
“But she found enough to become concerned.”
Hayes rubbed his jaw.
“Why didn’t she tell Marin?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“She may have been trying to verify the records before worrying you.”
I wanted to believe that.
Tessa was protective.
Sometimes too protective.
When Ironline nearly lost its largest customer three years earlier, she worked through an entire weekend before telling me there was a problem.
Not because she wanted to hide it.
Because she wanted to bring me a solution.
But this felt different.
I looked at the photograph again.
Claire Rourke.
Tessa Grant.
A meeting two days before the barbecue.
Someone had been investigating the Mercers before Kale attacked me.
And somehow, my closest friend had become part of it.
By noon, the hospital room felt too small.
I needed to move.
Needed to stand.
Needed to do something other than stare at screens while everyone else searched for answers.
My nurse, Olivia, found me trying to sit at the edge of the bed.
“Absolutely not,” she said.
I glared at her.
She crossed her arms.
“That look might work on your husband. It doesn’t work on me.”
Hayes almost smiled.
I reached for my notepad.
I NEED TO WALK.
Olivia read it.
“Then we’ll ask the doctor what activity is safe. You’re recovering from major trauma.”
I wrote:
I’M NOT MADE OF GLASS.
She raised one eyebrow.
“No. But your face has several fractures, and you have a concussion. Those are real injuries, regardless of how stubborn you are.”
Hayes looked away.
I knew he was trying not to laugh.
Olivia continued.
“You can be angry. You can be impatient. You can even be rude to me if you need to.”
She adjusted my pillow.
“But you are not going to turn one terrible injury into two because you want to prove something.”
I stared at her.
Then slowly nodded.
She smiled.
“Good.”
When she left, Hayes leaned closer.
“I like her.”
I wrote:
TRAITOR.
He laughed.
And for one brief moment, the fear loosened its grip.
At one thirty, a message appeared on my company account.
It came from Tessa.
My heart nearly stopped.
MARIN, I’M SAFE. DON’T CALL ME.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
I DIDN’T BETRAY YOU.
I grabbed Hayes’s arm.
He leaned over my shoulder.
“That’s her?”
I nodded.
A third message appeared.
THE MAN YOU HEARD WAS TRYING TO MAKE ME ADMIT I WORKED FOR THE MERCERS. I DON’T.
I typed as quickly as I could.
WHERE ARE YOU?
No answer.
TESSA, PLEASE.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Finally:
I’M WITH CLAIRE ROURKE.
I froze.
Hayes read the message.
“She’s with Daniel’s daughter?”
Another message arrived.
WE FOUND SOMETHING IN THE ESTATE’S SECURITY ARCHIVE.
I felt my pulse pounding.
WHAT?
The reply took nearly a minute.
THEY DIDN’T DELETE THE BARBECUE FOOTAGE. THEY ONLY DELETED THE COPY EVERYONE KNEW ABOUT.
I stared at the screen.
Then:
CLAIRE RECOVERED A BACKUP.
My breath caught.
The cameras.
The missing evidence.
The moment Kale threw the ball.
Vesta hiding it.
Everything we had been desperate to prove.
I typed:
SEND IT TO THE POLICE.
Tessa replied immediately.
WE’RE DOING THAT. BUT THERE’S MORE THAN ONE VIDEO.
I felt cold.
WHAT ELSE?
Three dots appeared.
Then stopped.
A full minute passed.
Finally, Tessa sent one last message.
MARIN, SOMEONE PLANNED TO MAKE YOU LOOK GUILTY BEFORE KALE EVER PICKED UP THAT BALL.
I showed the messages to Detective Brooks as soon as she returned.
She read them carefully.
Then looked at me.
“Do you believe Tessa wrote these?”
I nodded.
“Why?”
I wrote:
SHE USES THE SAME PHRASES. AND SHE KNOWS HOW I WORK.
Brooks nodded.
“That’s helpful, but we’ll still verify the account.”
Hayes leaned forward.
“She says she recovered footage.”
“We’re contacting her.”
“Can you protect her?”
“If she comes forward, we’ll assess what protection is appropriate.”
I watched the detective send a message.
Then another.
She stepped into the hallway to make a call.
Hayes sat beside me.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked at my phone.
“Someone planned to make you look guilty.”
I nodded.
His expression darkened.
“Before the barbecue.”
I nodded again.
He stared toward the window.
“What were they planning?”
I reached for the notepad.
