Chapter 3 - The Secret Ryan Hid in Our Garage
I did not send Sophie to school the next morning.
I didn't even argue with myself about it.
Dad arrived before sunrise after I called him.
He took one look at my bruised cheek.
"Where is Ryan?"
"Not here."
"Good."
Dad was seventy-one.
Five foot nine.
Bad knee.
Retired accountant.
And apparently ready to commit murder.
"What happened?"
"I'll explain later."
"No."
"Dad."
"Emily."
I knew that tone.
I told him enough.
Not everything.
Just enough.
When I showed him the photograph of Sophie, his face changed.
"Police?"
"Already notified."
"Then you're not leaving this house."
"I have sixty-four employees."
"You have one daughter."
He was right.
I hated it.
By nine, Daniel Cho arrived.
Daniel had been my attorney for seven years.
I showed him everything.
The transfer.
Project Bluebird.
Stonebridge.
The threatening texts.
He listened without interrupting.
Then asked:
"Where is Ryan?"
"I don't know."
"He was released?"
"Yes."
"Have you spoken?"
"No."
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
"What?"
"Someone needs to tell you something."
My stomach tightened.
"Tell me."
"Ryan called me three weeks ago."
I stared at him.
"About what?"
"He asked about protecting Hartwell from a hostile acquisition."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Attorney-client privilege."
"I'm your client."
"So is Ryan on certain personal matters."
That irritated me.
"What exactly did he ask?"
"Whether someone could indirectly take control of Hartwell by acquiring critical suppliers."
Stonebridge.
"Did he mention Voss?"
"No."
"Bluebird?"
"No."
"What else?"
Daniel hesitated.
"He asked what would happen to Hartwell if something happened to you."
The room went cold.
Dad stood.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Daniel raised a hand.
"I don't know."
I remembered the slap.
The stolen credentials.
The threats.
Suddenly every possible interpretation became terrifying.
"Did he ask about my will?"
"Yes."
Dad cursed.
I closed my eyes.
"Who inherits Hartwell?"
"Sophie, through trust."
"And trustee?"
"Your father and me."
"So Ryan gets nothing."
"Correct."
That should have comforted me.
It didn't.
My phone rang.
Ryan.
I stared at his name.
Daniel said, "Answer on speaker."
I did.
"Where are you?"
Ryan sounded exhausted.
"Driving."
"Where?"
"Don't ask."
"Someone threatened Sophie."
Silence.
Then:
"What?"
"They sent a picture."
"What picture?"
I explained.
Ryan began swearing.
"Where is she?"
"With me."
"Keep her there."
"Ryan, what did you steal?"
Silence.
"What did you take from Voss?"
"Who told you Voss?"
"I figured it out."
"Emily—"
"What did you take?"
"A ledger."
I frowned.
"What ledger?"
"I can't tell you over the phone."
"Stop saying that!"
Dad and Daniel exchanged looks.
Ryan continued.
"There's something in the garage."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Behind the old freezer."
"What's there?"
"A black case."
I looked toward the garage.
"What's inside?"
"Insurance."
"Against who?"
A pause.
"My mother."
I stared at the phone.
"Linda?"
"Yes."
"What did she do?"
"Find the case."
Then the line died.
Dad came with me.
Behind the freezer was a loose wall panel.
Inside sat a black metal case.
Combination lock.
My birthday opened it.
That hurt.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
And a notebook.
I opened the notebook.
Linda's handwriting.
Dates.
Dollar amounts.
Initials.
Some entries went back seven years.
Then I saw my name.
E.H. – 125K
Another.
E.H. – 90K
Another.
E.H. – 210K
Hundreds of thousands.
"What is this?" Dad whispered.
Daniel took photographs.
Then I found a printed email.
Sender:
Linda Mercer.
Recipient:
Charles Voss.
The date was four years earlier.
Ryan still believes Emily hired him because she felt sorry for him. Keep it that way. Once he's inside Hartwell, we'll finally have access.
I stopped breathing.
Ryan hadn't joined my company by accident.
Linda had arranged it.
And Charles Voss had been involved years before Project Bluebird.
I kept reading.
Another email.
He doesn't know I'm working with you. If he finds out, he'll choose his wife.
My hands began shaking.
Ryan had betrayed me.
But perhaps someone had betrayed him first.
At the bottom of the case was a photograph.
Linda.
Charles Voss.
And Rebecca Sloan.
My CFO.
My most trusted employee.
All three were sitting together in a restaurant.
The photograph was dated six months earlier.
The same week Project Bluebird began.
I stared at Rebecca's face.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from her.
Emily, we have an emergency at Hartwell. Come alone.
Dad looked at me.
"You're not going."
I stared at the photograph again.
Rebecca had told me only six people knew about Bluebird.
Maybe she had lied.
Maybe she was the leak.
Maybe everything I had learned last night had been carefully selected to send me in the wrong direction.
Then another message arrived.
Do not tell Ryan where you're going.
I looked at Daniel.
"She knows I'm talking to him."
Daniel's expression darkened.
"How?"
Nobody had an answer.
Then something small caught my eye inside the black case.
A photograph of me.
Taken through my bedroom window.
I turned it over.
Four words were written on the back.
SHE STILL TRUSTS EVERYONE.
May you like
For the first time, I realized the problem was much bigger than missing money.
Someone had been watching me for years.
