Chapter 10 - The Thing Cole Needed
Wren still had the key.
When Evelyn saw it around her daughter’s neck, she nearly cried with relief.
“Where did the blue thread come from?” Wren asked.
“The key used to have another piece.”
“No.”
Wren shook her head.
“That’s not from my key.”
Evelyn stopped.
“What?”
“Mine is darker.”
She held it up.
Wren was right.
The thread left on Nathan’s desk was pale blue.
Almost gray.
Helen stared at it.
“Nathan used blue twine on the garden markers.”
Evelyn’s pulse quickened.
The intruder had not been threatening Wren.
He had been pointing them back to the garden.
Or searching for something related to it.
Police found no usable fingerprints.
The north-side security camera had gone offline eleven minutes before the break-in.
Not malfunctioned.
Disabled through the system administrator account.
Cole knew the account.
So had Nathan.
Briggs obtained a warrant for network logs.
The login originated from a prepaid mobile hotspot.
No easy identification.
Cole was careful.
But careful was not invisible.
Meanwhile, the financial conspiracy widened.
Peter found Bracken Ridge had funded a failed luxury housing development outside Scottsdale.
Cole had invested heavily using company money.
When the project began collapsing, Nathan helped conceal the first loss.
Then Cole kept transferring money to prevent lenders from foreclosing on the development.
“He turned Mercer Residential into his private rescue fund,” Peter said.
“And Nathan helped him start.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked at the numbers.
Six-point-eight million.
Enough to put the company at risk.
Enough to explain threats.
Enough to destroy reputations.
“What did Cole stand to gain if Nathan died?”
Peter answered.
“Control.”
Nathan’s temporary voting proxy suddenly looked sinister.
Leah had hired a handwriting expert.
The preliminary finding arrived that afternoon.
The signature was probably Nathan’s.
Evelyn felt deflated.
“So he really gave Cole control.”
“Possibly,” Leah said.
“Why?”
“Look at the date.”
Six days before Nathan died.
The same week Nathan had begun recording Cole.
“He was setting a trap,” Evelyn whispered.
Leah nodded.
“If Nathan believed Cole was stealing, giving him temporary control makes no obvious sense unless Nathan expected the proxy to expose something.”
Peter pulled the proxy language closer.
Then smiled.
“What?”
“There’s a reporting covenant.”
Evelyn read it.
During the proxy period, Cole was required to provide monthly written certifications of all related-party transactions exceeding fifty thousand dollars.
“If he disclosed Barrett Strategic,” Leah said, “Nathan had a paper trail.”
“And if he didn’t?”
“He breached the proxy.”
Peter looked almost impressed.
“Nathan gave Cole enough rope.”
The problem was Nathan died before the first report was due.
Cole had never expected anyone else to understand the trap.
The proxy’s first certification deadline was Monday.
Three days away.
If Cole disclosed Barrett Strategic, he implicated himself.
If he concealed it, Evelyn could seek judicial termination of the proxy.
For the first time, she had leverage.
She called him.
“I know why Nathan gave you the proxy.”
Silence.
Then Cole said, “Do you?”
“Monday.”
Another silence.
“You’ve been busy.”
“You’re going to certify every related-party transaction.”
“You’re not my attorney.”
“No. I’m the trustee whose voting rights you borrowed.”
Cole laughed softly.
“You think paperwork will save you?”
“I think Nathan thought it might.”
His voice cooled.
“Nathan thought a lot of things at the end.”
“Like checking his prescription?”
Cole said nothing.
Evelyn pushed.
“You called the pharmacy.”
“I call people all day.”
“You arranged the courier.”
Silence.
“You told the board you never accessed his patient portal.”
Still nothing.
“Cole?”
His response was almost a whisper.
“You should stop putting Wren in the middle of this.”
Evelyn’s entire body went cold.
“I didn’t mention Wren.”
“No, but you keep using things she supposedly remembers.”
“Stay away from my daughter.”
“She’s already involved.”
“That sounded like a threat.”
“It was an observation.”
The line went dead.
Evelyn immediately called Briggs.
That night, police increased patrols near the property.
But Cole did not come near the house.
Instead, at 9:12 p.m., Wren received an email through an old school account.
No subject.
One sentence.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT YOUR FATHER BURIED.
Wren screamed when she read it.
Evelyn rushed upstairs.
She stared at the message.
Then at the brass key.
Then toward the black windows overlooking the north garden.
The recorder had not been the thing Cole needed.
May you like
There was something else underground.
And Cole believed Wren knew where it was.
