David shut the laptop.
“Don't call anyone yet.”
Robert frowned. “Why?”
“Because if whoever is using Evelyn's credentials knows we've discovered the location, they'll move.”
“Move what?”
“The money. The property. Maybe Grant.”
That last word changed the room.
Grant was not merely another name in the records.
He was my husband.
And wherever he was, he might already know something had gone wrong.
I called him.
The phone rang six times.
Then went to voicemail.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Tessa watched me.
“You think he's running?”
“I don't know.”
David stood and gathered the documents.
“We need the original authorization.”
Robert shook his head.
“My father's records are stored at the family office.”
“Then we go there.”
The family office had been closed for years, but Robert still had a key. We drove there without discussing what might be waiting inside.
The building smelled of dust and old paper.
Robert unlocked the front door.
Inside, the furniture remained almost exactly as it had been before his father died. A large wooden desk sat near the window. Filing cabinets lined the wall.
Robert walked directly to the back room.
“My father kept duplicate estate records here.”
David began searching.
Within minutes, he found a locked metal cabinet.
Robert opened it.
Inside were paper files bearing the Prescott Family Holdings seal.
The original property documents were there.
So were Richard Harlan's correspondence files.
And one envelope addressed to Robert.
Robert opened it with shaking hands.
His father's letter was brief.
It said the twelve acres had never been intended to become part of ordinary family assets until a proper buyer could be identified.
It also contained a warning.
“Never allow Grant to control the sale.”
Robert looked at me.
His face was devastated.
“He knew.”
David took the letter.
The date was nearly nine months before Richard died.
Grant had already been discussed.
There was another sheet beneath the letter.
A list of people who had access to the property file.
Richard Harlan.
Evelyn Mercer.
Robert.
And one additional name.
David read it.
Then stopped.
“What?”
He handed me the page.
The name was Marcus Vale.
Robert shook his head.
“I don't know him.”
David looked at the old records.
“He wasn't an employee. He was an outside administrative consultant.”
“Consultant for whom?”
“Richard.”
Melissa called her brother.
Evan answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“We need to talk.”
There was a pause.
“About the property?”
Melissa froze.
“How did you know?”
Evan didn't answer.
“Evan?”
“I've been trying to call Grant.”
“Why?”
“He told me the transfer was happening today.”
My stomach tightened.
“What transfer?”
Evan said he had been told that Prescott Family Holdings would transfer the property into his name temporarily. After that, he was supposed to refinance it and release funds into an account Grant controlled.
“Who told you?”
“Grant.”
“Did you know about the twenty percent?”
Silence.
Then Evan said, “No.”
David closed his eyes.
That answer mattered.
Evan had not known about Grant's twenty percent.
At least according to his statement.
Melissa asked him where he was.
He said he was at a bank.
Then the call ended.
David immediately told us not to contact him again.
“Why?”
“Because if Evan is innocent, we don't want to give whoever is behind this time to reach him first.”
He turned toward the cabinet.
“We need Marcus Vale.”
The name appeared in several records.
Marcus had been paid by Richard for administrative consulting.
He had access to property records.
He had worked with Evelyn.
And, according to one invoice, he had provided “document transition services” to Mercer Consulting.
The invoice was dated seven months earlier.
The exact month Grant first approached Richard.
Tessa pointed to the bottom.
“There's an address.”
David looked at it.
“An office building.”
Robert recognized the street.
“That's where my father's old accountant used to work.”
David shook his head.
“Not anymore.”
We drove there.
The office was occupied by a small tax preparation firm. The receptionist said Marcus Vale had moved out almost a year earlier.
“Do you know where?”
She checked an old forwarding record.
Then frowned.
“It says he transferred correspondence to Mercer Consulting.”
Nobody spoke.
The same company.
Grant's company.
We returned to the car.
I felt as though every road led back to my husband.
But there was still a gap.
Marcus had access.
Grant had motive.
Evan had been positioned as buyer.
Northstar had moved the money.
Evelyn's identity had been stolen.
Richard had suspected a second administrator.
Who had actually designed the scheme?
David finally said, “I think Marcus was the bridge.”
“Between Grant and the estate?”
“Yes.”
“But who hired him?”
David looked at the records.
“Richard.”
That made no sense.
Richard had been trying to stop Grant.
Unless Marcus had been working both sides.
A message appeared on my phone.
From Grant.
Three words.
“Come home alone.”
I showed David.
He immediately said no.
Another message arrived.
“Bring the original option.”
Then a third.
“And don't trust David.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: Grant’s Message Forced the Final Confrontation Before the Property Could Be Taken
Three Weeks After One Cruel Sentence, My Husband Invited His Entire Family to Dinner and Assumed I Would Quietly Save His Birthday Again
Part 15 of 20
