Chapter 8 - The Friend Who Knew Too Much
Mara refused the hospital until I threatened to call her mother.
“It’s a bruise,” she insisted from the back seat. “I’ve had worse from falling off a bicycle.”
“You were abducted.”
“Technically, I was invited to a warehouse and then prevented from leaving.”
“That is the most Mara definition of kidnapping I’ve ever heard.”
She managed a tired smile, then looked at Graham in the front passenger seat. “You’re bleeding on the upholstery.”
“It’s not my car.”
“Then bleed more discreetly.”
The exchange sounded almost normal. That frightened me more than the warehouse had. Normality had become a costume we all wore over terror.
At home, Agent Reed questioned Mara while Vivian examined the copied ledger. Graham stood apart, his hand pressed to his side.
“Who took you?” Reed asked.
“Two men. One called the other Nash.”
“Did they mention Dorian?”
“They said I knew where Elena kept the original.”
I looked at her. “Did you?”
Mara’s eyes filled with anger. “No.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
Graham’s gaze moved between us.
Mara crossed her arms. “I knew Elena had found something. I didn’t know what it was.”
“Why didn’t you tell me they were asking about me?”
“Because I thought I could handle a few questions.”
“You were followed in Savannah.”
“I know that now.”
“How long?”
Mara looked away.
The room changed.
“How long were you being followed?” I asked.
“Three months.”
“Three months?”
“They never approached me. I thought it was your husband’s security.”
Graham’s face hardened. “My people don’t follow Mrs. Bennett.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Mara snapped. “You’ve had Elena watched for years.”
“Not by me.”
“By whom, then?”
Graham said nothing.
Mara turned to me. “You need to leave him.”
“I know.”
The words stopped her.
“What?”
“I said I know.”
Graham looked at me, but I did not look back.
Vivian laid the copied ledger on the table. “The black stars mark payments to a private security company.”
Reed leaned over the pages. “A company still operating?”
“Yes,” Vivian said. “Palmetto Shield.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed. “That company was dissolved.”
“According to the state registry,” Reed said, “it was bought by a holding company six years ago.”
“Whose?” I asked.
Vivian turned the page. “A company registered to someone named Claire Calloway.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Graham went pale.
“Who is Claire?” I asked.
He did not answer.
“Graham.”
“My sister.”
I had never heard him mention a sister.
“You have a sister?”
“Had.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“How?”
“A car accident.”
Mara stared at him. “You expect us to accept that?”
“I don’t care what you accept.”
“You should,” I said. “Because her company is paying people connected to my father’s death.”
Graham turned away.
Reed tapped the table. “Mr. Calloway, was Claire involved in the organization?”
“No.”
“Was she involved in the legitimate company?”
“She handled international compliance.”
“And after her death, her holding company continued operating?”
“Apparently.”
I looked at Graham. “You didn’t know?”
“I believed the accounts were closed.”
“You believe too many things when they let you avoid the truth.”
He flinched.
Later, I found Mara in the conservatory, staring at the rain.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For telling you to leave him while I keep bringing his enemies to your door.”
“You didn’t bring them.”
“I took money from one of them.”
I turned.
Mara’s face crumpled. “Not knowingly. A grant for the warehouse project came through a company called Harbor Renewal. I thought it was a private donor. They paid my nonprofit’s bills for months.”
“How much?”
“Enough to make me ashamed.”
“Did they ask for anything?”
“Access to old property records. I gave it to them.”
Before I could answer, the conservatory window shattered.
Mara dropped to the floor. I pulled her behind a stone planter as a second shot struck the wall.
Graham rushed in with two guards. He looked at the broken glass, then at me.
“They know you’re here,” he said.
Outside, a black sedan sped through the gates.
On the floor beneath the window lay a folded piece of paper.
May you like
Mara picked it up with shaking fingers.
The message read: Ask Graham what happened to Claire.
