For several seconds after Detective Harris said Greg was inside the records floor, nobody in my kitchen moved.
The video meeting remained open on Trevor's laptop, but the boardroom had become a blur of voices, people standing, doors opening, and someone repeatedly asking for building security.
Trevor muted the call.
“We need to go there.”
Harris shook his head immediately.
“No.”
“My cousin is inside the archive.”
“And police are inside the building.”
“He knows that floor better than they do.”
“So do security personnel.”
Trevor gave him a hard look.
“You don't understand what he's going after.”
Harris folded his arms.
“Then explain it.”
Trevor began pacing again, moving from the kitchen table to the sink and back as though motion helped him organize his thoughts.
“The original contracts aren't the important part.”
Mallory stared at him.
“You've spent months saying they were.”
“They were, until tonight.”
“Trevor.”
“The fraud itself can probably be proved from copies, bank records, and payment trails.”
He stopped.
“But if Greg is risking walking into a building full of investigators, he's not there for invoices.”
Harris watched him closely.
“What else is stored on that floor?”
Trevor's face tightened.
“Access logs.”
The detective's expression shifted.
“What kind?”
“Physical archive access. Internal system pulls. Badge entries. Document checkouts. Executive override requests.”
Daniel Cho was still connected remotely through Trevor's second phone. His voice came through the speaker.
“Those could establish who accessed or altered records.”
“Exactly.”
Trevor looked toward Harris.
“If Vale and Greg were changing files, those logs might show when and how.”
“Can they be deleted remotely?”
“Parts of the digital system can.”
“And the physical logs?”
“Some are archived on a local server.”
Harris was already reaching for his phone.
“Where is that server?”
Trevor hesitated.
“Records floor.”
The detective turned away and began issuing instructions.
I looked at Nolan.
He had gone quiet again.
Not frightened this time.
Thinking.
He stared at the laptop screen, where the boardroom remained frozen in an awkward view of empty chairs and half-visible people.
“Nolan?”
He didn't answer.
I touched his shoulder.
He looked up.
“What is it?”
He frowned.
“I think I saw Uncle Greg use something.”
Trevor turned.
“What?”
“At the house.”
“When?”
“The night before we came here.”
Mallory sat beside him.
“Tell us.”
Nolan rubbed one thumb across the side of his index finger.
“He had a little black thing.”
“A phone?”
“No.”
“USB drive?”
“Maybe.”
Trevor crouched.
“What did he do with it?”
“He plugged it into Dad's computer.”
The room became still again.
Trevor's eyes narrowed.
“My work laptop?”
“The black one.”
Trevor looked at Harris.
“That laptop connects to the company network.”
“Was it logged in?”
“At home? Usually.”
Mallory closed her eyes.
“Trevor.”
“I know.”
Nolan continued.
“Uncle Greg put the little thing in. Then he took it out when somebody called him.”
“What happened on the screen?” Harris asked.
“I couldn't see.”
“Did Greg leave anything behind?”
Nolan hesitated.
“I don't know.”
Trevor stood slowly.
“If Greg used my laptop to access internal systems, that explains how they made activity look like mine.”
Daniel's voice came through the speaker.
“And why the company report claims Trevor accessed restricted records.”
Harris looked toward the evidence bag containing Nolan's USB.
“If those actions were performed from Trevor's credentials, proving who physically used the machine becomes important.”
Nolan suddenly looked at me.
“Grandma.”
“Yes?”
“The picture.”
“What picture?”
“The one where Uncle Greg is by Dad.”
I tried to remember the photographs from the metal box.
“There were several.”
“No. The blurry one.”
Then I remembered.
One image had seemed useless when I first saw it. A dark reflection in a glass door. I had barely examined it because the angle was poor and most of the frame was shadow.
Nolan continued.
“I took it when he was at the computer.”
Trevor stared at him.
“You photographed Greg using my laptop?”
Nolan nodded.
“Why didn't you say that?”
“I forgot.”
Harris remained calm.
“Was that photograph printed?”
Nolan nodded again.
“It was in the box.”
My stomach dropped.
The box had been searched.
The photographs had been in my cardigan pocket, but after everything that happened, police had collected them.
I looked at Harris.
“You have it.”
He turned toward one of the officers.
“Bring the photographs.”
A few minutes later, the officer returned with a clear evidence sleeve.
We gathered around the dining table while Harris carefully separated the images.
There it was.
A poorly framed photograph of Trevor's living room reflected in a darkened window.
At first it showed almost nothing.
Then Harris angled it beneath the kitchen light.
A man was seated at Trevor's desk.
His body was partially obscured.
But his face was reflected in the glass.
Greg.
And directly in front of him sat Trevor's open laptop.
Trevor gripped the back of a chair.
“That proves he was using it.”
Daniel's voice came through.
“It proves he was sitting in front of it.”
Trevor looked irritated.
“You're my lawyer. Could you try sounding useful?”
“I am being useful. Evidence survives because people don't exaggerate what it proves.”
Harris nodded approvingly.
“Your lawyer is right.”
Trevor sighed.
Harris pointed toward the photograph.
“But this gives us a time frame.”
Nolan leaned closer.
“I wrote the time down.”
“You did?”
“In my notebook.”
Harris opened the blue notebook again.
Nolan flipped several pages until he found an entry.
Greg computer 11:42.
Date beside it.
Trevor's face changed.
“That was the same night somebody accessed the restricted procurement archive under my credentials.”
Daniel said, “Now that matters.”
Harris immediately photographed the page and sent something to another investigator.
Nolan stared at the photograph.
“He was angry.”
“With who?” I asked.
“Somebody on the phone.”
“What did he say?”
Nolan closed his eyes.
“He said, ‘You told me Parker's access would work.’”
Trevor went very still.
Harris leaned forward.
“What else?”
“He said, ‘If Vale wants it done, Vale can come here himself.’”
Mallory whispered, “There it is.”
Harris raised one finger.
“Careful.”
But even he looked different now.
Not convinced.
Focused.
Pieces that had previously required interpretation were beginning to overlap.
Greg had been photographed at Trevor's computer.
Nolan recorded the time.
Trevor's credentials had been used that night.
Greg had spoken Vale's name.
Vale's company had paid Greg's consulting business.
The same vehicle linked to Vale had appeared near my house.
And stolen records later turned up in my garage.
Trevor's phone buzzed.
A message from one of his coworkers.
He read it and looked at Harris.
“They smell smoke.”
“Where?”
“Records floor.”
Harris's phone rang at the same moment.
His face tightened.
“Evacuate immediately.”
He listened.
“No, nobody enters until fire confirms.”
Another pause.
“Find Greg.”
He hung up.
Mallory stood.
“Another fire?”
“Possible electrical fire.”
Trevor laughed bitterly.
“Electrical.”
Harris did not respond to the sarcasm.
Within minutes, the remote board meeting ended.
The company building was evacuated.
Vale was escorted outside by investigators but not formally arrested.
Greg remained unaccounted for.
The records-floor alarm continued.
I looked at Trevor.
“If Greg started another fire, why?”
“To destroy the server.”
“Could he?”
“If he reaches the server room.”
Nolan spoke quietly.
“He won't.”
Everybody turned.
Trevor frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Nolan looked almost embarrassed.
“I copied something else.”
A strange silence followed.
Trevor stared at him.
“What else did you copy?”
Nolan looked toward the evidence bag holding the USB.
“I didn't know what it was.”
Harris returned to the table.
“Explain.”
“When I copied the camera videos, there was another folder.”
“What was it called?”
Nolan thought.
“Logs.”
Trevor sat down hard.
“Logs?”
“I opened it, but it was boring. Just numbers and names.”
“Did you copy it?”
“I copied everything.”
Trevor stared at his son.
“You copied the access logs.”
“I guess.”
Daniel's voice came through the phone, almost amused for the first time.
“Your nine-year-old may have accidentally preserved the records they are currently trying to destroy.”
Nolan looked worried.
“Was I not supposed to?”
I touched his shoulder.
“You were definitely not supposed to be in this situation at all.”
Harris requested the USB be examined immediately by the digital-forensics team.
Trevor began explaining what investigators should search for.
Badge numbers.
Login IDs.
Override codes.
Archive requests.
Nolan listened.
Then he said, “There were colors too.”
Trevor turned.
“What colors?”
“Some names were red.”
“Flags?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you remember any?”
Nolan nodded.
“Dad was green.”
Trevor frowned.
“And?”
“Mr. Vale was red.”
Harris made a note.
“Greg?”
“Yellow.”
Trevor looked toward the detective.
“That sounds like security clearance levels.”
“Which means?”
“Red is executive override.”
Harris asked, “Could Vale erase activity records?”
“Yes.”
“Could Greg?”
“No.”
“Could Greg use Vale's authorization?”
Trevor hesitated.
“If he had the token.”
Nolan lifted his head.
“The black thing.”
Trevor froze.
“What?”
“The little black thing Uncle Greg put in your computer.”
Harris looked at Trevor.
“Authentication device?”
Trevor nodded slowly.
“Possibly a hardware token.”
Daniel said, “If it was registered to Vale, that's stronger than a password.”
Harris's phone rang again.
He answered.
His expression became grim.
“They found the ignition point.”
Trevor stood.
“Server room?”
“Yes.”
Mallory swore under her breath.
“Was Greg there?”
“No.”
“Then where is he?”
Harris listened to the caller.
A strange expression crossed his face.
“What stairwell?”
Another pause.
“Keep officers there.”
He ended the call.
“They have video of Greg leaving the records floor.”
Trevor leaned forward.
“When?”
“Three minutes before the alarm.”
“Where did he go?”
“Down the west stairwell.”
“To the loading dock?”
“No.”
Harris looked at him.
“The executive parking level.”
Trevor immediately understood.
“Vale.”
Harris nodded.
“Greg may have been heading toward Vale's vehicle.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Is Vale still outside?”
“Investigators are with him.”
Trevor said, “Then Greg might be going after something in the car.”
“Or meeting him.”
A message arrived on Harris's phone.
He read it.
Then another.
He finally looked at us.
“Vale's gray sedan is still in the garage.”
The same vehicle Nolan had written down.
The same company linked to the license plate.
The same car that appeared near my house.
“What are they doing with it?” I asked.
“Getting a warrant.”
Trevor shook his head.
“If Greg reaches that car first—”
“He won't.”
Harris's certainty lasted exactly ten seconds.
Then his phone rang again.
This time he answered without speaking.
We watched his expression change.
“What happened?”
Trevor didn't wait for him to finish.
Harris lowered the phone.
“The gray sedan is gone.”
Mallory stared.
“How?”
“Someone drove through the lower exit before security completed the lockdown.”
“Greg.”
“Possibly.”
Nolan stood.
“What if the suitcase is in it?”
Every adult turned toward him.
“The black suitcase?” Trevor asked.
Nolan nodded.
“You saw it in that car?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“The night Uncle Greg came over.”
Nolan's voice became more certain.
“He carried it outside and put it in the trunk.”
Trevor looked at Harris.
“That suitcase keeps appearing near the records.”
Harris nodded.
“If Greg took the car, he may be moving evidence.”
“Where would he go?”
No one knew.
Then I remembered something.
The photographs.
Not of Trevor's house.
Not of the company.
One photograph in the box had shown a road.
At the time, I thought Nolan had taken it accidentally through the car window.
I asked Harris to bring the photographs back.
We searched until I found it.
A narrow road bordered by scrub grass and utility poles.
Near the edge of the photograph stood a faded sign.
Nolan leaned over.
“I know that place.”
“Where is it?”
“Uncle Greg took us there once.”
Mallory turned sharply.
“He took you where?”
“To a warehouse.”
Trevor's expression changed.
“What warehouse?”
Nolan looked at him.
“The one where he said you used to work.”
Trevor shook his head.
“I never worked at a warehouse with Greg.”
Nolan pointed at the faded sign.
“Then why did he say you did?”
Harris enlarged the photo on a phone.
Only part of the sign remained legible.
RIVERSTONE STORAGE.
Trevor stared.
“I know that name.”
“Company property?” Harris asked.
“No.”
“What?”
“One of the fake contractors.”
The room went silent.
Trevor took the phone.
“Riverstone Storage received payments for warehouse renovation work.”
“Does it own property?”
“I thought it was a shell.”
Harris was already calling investigators.
Nolan watched him.
Then quietly added, “The black suitcase was there too.”
Harris stopped mid-dial.
“When?”
“The day Uncle Greg took us.”
Mallory looked horrified.
“He took the children to a fraudulent company's property?”
“He said Dad asked him to show us where he used to work.”
“I never asked that.”
Nolan's face tightened.
“I know now.”
Harris gave the location to the team.
Trevor started toward the front door.
“No.”
Harris blocked him.
“If Greg is heading there, I can identify the building.”
“So can your son.”
“I'm not sending Nolan.”
“Neither am I.”
“Then stay here.”
Trevor looked ready to argue.
I stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Both men looked at me.
“Police go.”
I pointed at Trevor.
“You stay with your family.”
Then I looked at Nolan.
“And you stop being the bravest person in the room.”
He gave me a confused expression.
“You've done enough.”
For once, Trevor agreed without resistance.
An hour passed.
Then another.
Nobody ate.
Maisie slept against Mallory.
Nolan sat beside his father.
Trevor didn't pace anymore.
He held his son's hand.
At 11:48 p.m., Detective Harris's phone rang.
He answered.
We all watched.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Alive?”
Another pause.
“Good.”
Trevor stood.
Harris listened for nearly a minute.
Then he lowered the phone.
“They found Greg.”
Mallory inhaled sharply.
“Where?”
“Riverstone Storage.”
“Was he alone?”
“No.”
Trevor's face tightened.
“Vale?”
Harris shook his head.
“Not Vale.”
“Who?”
“The man who entered your mother's house.”
My skin went cold.
Harris continued.
“The black suitcase was there.”
Trevor asked, “What's inside?”
“They haven't opened everything yet.”
“Then what do you know?”
Harris looked toward Nolan.
“The first compartment contained documents.”
“What kind?”
“Copies of payment records.”
Trevor exhaled.
“And the rest?”
“Phones.”
Rachel's four phones.
Maybe more.
“Anything else?”
Harris's expression turned grim.
“One handwritten list.”
My stomach tightened.
“Names?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“Your family's.”
Nobody spoke.
Harris looked directly at me.
“Beside each name is a date.”
Trevor stepped closer.
“What dates?”
Harris answered carefully.
“Some appear to correspond with surveillance activity.”
“And the others?”
The detective hesitated.
Then looked at Nolan.
“One future date remains.”
Trevor's face changed.
“For who?”
Harris did not answer immediately.
He didn't need to.
I saw where his eyes went.
Toward Nolan.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Date Beside Nolan’s Name Finally Exposed The Full Plan, And Our Family Learned What Surviving The Summer Would Really Cost
The Morning My Grandchildren Left, One Lingering Look Toward Their Bedroom Told Me Our Quiet Summer Had Hidden Something Dangerous
Part 9 of 10
