Chapter 13 - The Summit Station
Police refused Grant’s terms.
Laura agreed with them.
Grant was a fugitive, not a negotiator.
Then he sent a photograph.
Victor’s black ledger open beside another document.
A signed confession.
Celeste’s name at the bottom.
Celeste stared.
“I never signed that.”
The document stated she had administered medication to Victor during an argument.
Laura looked at Holt.
“Forgery?”
“Maybe.”
Grant sent another message.
COME BEFORE 6 OR I SEND IT TO EVERY NEWS OUTLET AND LENDER.
The goal was not merely criminal blame.
If Celeste became publicly suspected of killing Victor, Snowhaven’s governance crisis could trigger total lender panic.
Blackpine already faced investigation.
Other lenders were nervous.
Grant wanted chaos.
The summit station was reachable only by service gondola or snowcat.
Police prepared a controlled operation.
Laura did not go alone.
Grant had expected that.
At 5:52, Laura entered the station with Holt nearby but concealed.
Grant stood beside the glass wall overlooking the mountain.
He looked exhausted.
Unshaven.
Desperate.
“Where’s the confession?”
He held it up.
“You destroyed my life.”
Laura almost laughed.
“You stole from my family.”
“I saved this resort.”
“Everyone says that.”
Grant’s expression tightened.
“Celeste started North Peak.”
“She told us.”
“She brought Voss.”
“She told us.”
“She signed the eastern-ridge pledge.”
“She says she didn’t.”
“She did.”
“Prove it.”
Grant threw the document onto the table.
Not the confession.
A video still.
Celeste signing papers.
Laura recognized Victor’s office.
“Full video?”
Grant held up a drive.
“Trade.”
“For what?”
“Ten million and no civil claim from your family.”
“You think prosecutors disappear if I pay you?”
“Financial charges become easier if victims stop cooperating.”
“You drugged my father.”
Grant’s face changed.
“No.”
“You collected his prescription.”
“Evan did.”
“You received it.”
Silence.
“You met Dad at 7:23.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Grant looked out at the mountain.
“He told me he was going to police.”
“And?”
“I begged him not to.”
“Did you put medication in his coffee?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Grant turned.
“I took the bottle into his room.”
Laura froze.
“Why?”
“He asked where it came from.”
“Then?”
“I put it on the table.”
“Did he take any?”
“No.”
“How did it get into his body?”
Grant swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
Laura studied him.
He looked frightened.
But Grant had lied so often fear proved nothing.
“What about the insurance?”
“Collateral requirement.”
“Five million payable to your company?”
“Yes.”
“Convenient.”
“I didn’t kill Victor.”
“Then why run?”
“Because every document points at me.”
“They point at you because you committed crimes.”
“Not murder.”
Laura pushed.
“Who forged Celeste’s confession?”
Grant said nothing.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Voss?”
Silence.
That was enough.
Voss had prepared insurance against Celeste.
A scapegoat.
Grant continued:
“Victor knew Voss was planning to frame Celeste.”
“Where’s proof?”
“In the ledger.”
“We recovered it.”
Grant stared.
“You have it?”
“Yes.”
His leverage collapsed visibly.
Then he laughed.
“Not the real one.”
Laura’s stomach dropped.
“The one at Eagle House is a copy.”
Grant opened his coat and produced a smaller black notebook.
Victor’s handwriting.
Original ink.
Original corrections.
He tossed it across the table.
“Read the last page.”
Laura opened it.
Victor had written:
7:25 a.m. Grant returned medicine. Says Mercer office sent wrong bottle. Celeste brought coffee. I feel dizzy. Calling Laura after I speak to Grant.
Below it:
If anything happens, investigate Voss’s insurance demand. Grant is weak. Celeste is angry. Voss is dangerous.
Laura looked up.
“This doesn’t say who drugged him.”
“No.”
“So you lied.”
“I said I had proof.”
“You said proof of who killed him.”
Grant’s eyes hardened.
“I know who did.”
“Who?”
“Malcolm Voss.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw him leave Victor’s suite at seven twenty-eight.”
Laura stopped breathing.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Grant laughed bitterly.
“Because Voss had enough evidence to put me in prison for twenty years.”
“And Victor died.”
“Yes.”
“You let Celeste find him.”
“Yes.”
“You collected the insurance.”
“Yes.”
“You kept stealing.”
“Yes.”
The simplicity was monstrous.
Laura whispered:
“You didn’t kill him.”
Grant shook his head.
“But you let his killer walk because it protected you.”
“Yes.”
Police entered.
Grant did not resist.
As Holt handcuffed him, Laura asked:
“Why photograph Caleb’s school?”
Grant looked confused.
“I didn’t.”
Laura stared.
“The picture in your room.”
“I never took it.”
“Then who did?”
Grant’s expression changed.
“Voss.”
Laura felt cold.
Voss had not been protecting a loan.
He had been watching the heir.
And Voss was currently out on bond for financial charges because prosecutors had not yet linked him conclusively to Victor’s death.
Laura grabbed her phone.
Mark did not answer.
Neither did Harris.
May you like
Then a text arrived from Caleb’s tablet.
Mom, Mr. Voss is here.
