Chapter 4 - The Blue Key
Emily’s letter was only two pages.
It changed Derek’s understanding of the last four years.
Caleb read slowly, stumbling over several words.
Derek helped only when asked.
“My sweet boy,
If someone is trying to take Frostline from you, it means I was right to be afraid.
Frostline is not valuable because rich people want to build houses there. It is valuable because your grandfather taught me that some things should remain untouched.”
Caleb looked up.
“Grandpa George?”
“Yes,” Derek whispered.
Emily’s father had died before Caleb was born.
Caleb continued.
“Mr. Sloan—”
“Ms. Sloan,” Derek corrected gently.
Caleb started again.
“Ms. Sloan has the trust papers. Mason knows where the old survey cabin is. The blue key opens something your father should see before anyone signs away the ridge.”
Derek’s heart beat harder.
Then came the sentence that changed his breathing.
“Your father loves you, but sometimes he trusts powerful people too easily.”
Caleb glanced at Derek.
Neither spoke.
The letter continued.
“Grant Mercer asked me to approve a road through Frostline when I was sick. I said no. He told me there were other ways to make land change hands.”
Mason cursed under his breath.
Derek barely heard him.
Emily had written one final warning.
“If they ever tell you selling Frostline is necessary to save the company, ask what they already spent the money on.”
Derek read that line himself.
Once.
Twice.
Grant was CFO.
If Emily suspected unexplained spending, she would have suspected the right department.
Caleb held up the blue key.
“What does it open?”
Mason answered.
“The survey cabin.”
Derek looked at him.
“You know where?”
“Everybody who grew up there does.”
Sheriff Ortiz stepped closer.
“If this relates to an active investigation, nobody goes searching alone.”
Derek almost objected.
Then stopped.
“Agreed.”
Mason noticed.
A strange beginning of respect passed between them.
That evening Serena was questioned formally.
She did not confess.
She claimed Caleb had misunderstood her comments about Frostline.
She admitted touching the release mechanism.
She claimed she believed the safety tether was still attached.
Investigators found no tether attached.
Her attorney argued a resort employee could have failed to secure it.
Serena was not arrested that night.
Derek was furious.
His attorney reminded him that probable cause for attempted murder required more than suspicion.
The sheriff continued investigating reckless child endangerment and possible assault-related offenses.
Serena moved into a suite at another resort under advice of counsel.
Derek changed the locks at the family chalet.
Caleb asked one question.
“Can she come back?”
“Not tonight.”
“What about tomorrow?”
Derek hesitated.
Caleb’s face changed immediately.
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
Derek hated saying it.
But he had lied to Caleb before with certainty.
He would not do it again.
“I’m going to do everything I legally can to keep you safe.”
Caleb stared at him.
“Why legally?”
Derek almost smiled.
“Because apparently I need that word a lot.”
Caleb understood more than Derek expected.
“You mean Mason.”
“Yes.”
Later, while Caleb slept, Derek met Grant in the executive lounge.
Grant was fifty, silver at the temples, meticulous, and usually impossible to rattle.
Tonight his whiskey glass trembled slightly.
“What exactly did Emily write?” Grant asked.
Derek sat across from him.
“Why do you care?”
“She accused me before she died.”
“You never told me.”
“She was sick.”
Derek’s eyes hardened.
“Finish that sentence carefully.”
Grant leaned back.
“She was under enormous stress.”
“You were going to say irrational.”
“I was going to say suspicious.”
“Of you.”
Grant sighed.
“She opposed development. That was emotional, not financial.”
“She asked what we had already spent money on.”
Grant’s fingers stopped around the glass.
Derek saw it.
“What money?”
“I don’t know.”
“Grant.”
“Our debt load increased during the pandemic.”
“That was after Emily died.”
Grant looked away.
Derek leaned forward.
“What did you spend before she died?”
Grant stood.
“You are not thinking clearly.”
Derek almost laughed.
Three people had used that phrase in twenty-four hours.
Serena.
Grant.
His lawyer.
Only one of them was supposed to be manipulating him.
Grant buttoned his jacket.
“The board is meeting tomorrow morning.”
“Why?”
“Because our CEO assaulted an employee in front of guests while his wife is being investigated for nearly killing his son.”
Derek’s jaw tightened.
Grant continued.
“Lenders are calling. Summit Crest has suspended discussions.”
“I thought the proposal was dead.”
Grant realized the mistake.
Too late.
Derek stood slowly.
“You said it could be revived.”
Grant said nothing.
“How active are those discussions?”
“Derek—”
“How active?”
Grant walked away.
Derek watched him leave.
His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Attached was a photograph.
Serena and Grant.
Not at a foundation meeting.
Not at a corporate event.
They were kissing inside a parking garage.
Timestamp: eleven months earlier.
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Under the photograph was one sentence.
ASK THEM WHAT WHITE PINE ADVISORY IS.
