Richard killed the live connection to the archive without touching the file Gregory was opening.
“Don’t block him,” Daniel said.
Richard looked up. “If he realizes we’re watching—”
“He already knows someone is looking.”
“Then why leave access open?”
“Because I want to know what he thinks is dangerous.”
Marcus moved beside them, reading the access log from Richard’s screen. Gregory’s account had entered a restricted legal archive at 8:26 a.m., bypassed two folders involving vendor contracts, and gone directly to records dated three years earlier.
The night Anna died.
Daniel stood motionless as a second file opened.
Richard read the title aloud. “Emergency executive communications.”
“Copy everything he touches.”
“I am.”
“Off-network.”
Richard disconnected a portable storage device from his laptop and handed it to Marcus. “Take this to the secure compliance room. No shared drives.”
Marcus nodded and left.
One of the board members, Thomas Keene, pushed back his chair. “This has crossed into paranoia.”
Daniel turned.
Thomas had served on Bellmont’s board since Daniel’s father was alive. Sixty-two, silver-haired, careful with language, he had spent decades cultivating the manner of a man who found panic undignified.
Daniel had always trusted that composure.
This morning it looked different.
“Someone forged my signature,” Daniel said. “Someone used Anna’s identity after her death. Someone is currently searching records from the night she died. What part would you like me to treat casually?”
Thomas held his gaze. “I’m saying you should avoid conclusions.”
“So am I.”
“That doesn’t sound like what’s happening.”
Daniel walked closer to the conference table. “Then help me.”
Thomas’s expression shifted by a fraction.
“Help you how?”
“Tell me what happened on October twelfth.”
Nobody answered.
Daniel looked from Thomas to board member Vivian Cross, then to Harold Pike.
Vivian’s hands were folded too tightly around a pen.
Harold stared at the table.
Daniel noticed both.
“You were all on the board then.”
Thomas replied. “There were hundreds of meetings.”
“Not this one.”
“You don’t know that.”
“The record is missing.”
That silenced him.
Richard spoke without looking away from the laptop. “The digital index shows a board session was scheduled for October twelfth. There should be minutes, attachments, attendance logs, and voting records. The folder exists. The contents don’t.”
Thomas frowned. “Records get corrupted.”
Richard looked at him. “Not selectively.”
Daniel said, “Who attended?”
Thomas leaned back. “I don’t remember.”
Vivian spoke quietly.
“I do.”
Every head turned.
Daniel watched her face.
Vivian Cross had been a longtime family acquaintance before becoming a director. She had brought Anna soup when Sophie was born. She had attended the funeral and sat beside Daniel through nearly the entire service.
“What happened?” Daniel asked.
Vivian swallowed.
“Anna came.”
Daniel did not move.
“To a board meeting?”
“She wasn’t scheduled.”
“Why?”
Vivian glanced at Thomas.
That was enough to make Daniel’s attention sharpen.
“Don’t look at him,” Daniel said. “Look at me.”
Vivian slowly did.
“She had questions about internal financial reporting.”
Daniel’s voice became quieter. “Northbridge?”
“I don’t remember that name.”
“Gregory?”
Vivian hesitated.
“Yes.”
Thomas stood.
“This is irresponsible.”
Daniel turned. “Sit down.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“Daniel—”
“Sit.”
For a moment, old hierarchy collided with new reality.
Then Thomas sat.
Daniel looked back at Vivian. “What did Anna say?”
“She accused Gregory of hiding expenses through vendor accounts.”
Richard stopped typing.
Daniel felt his chest tighten.
“What kind of expenses?”
“She didn’t know yet. That was part of the argument.”
“Who argued with her?”
Vivian’s eyes lowered.
“Gregory.”
“Only Gregory?”
A long pause.
“No.”
“Who else?”
Thomas interrupted. “Enough.”
Daniel’s patience vanished.
“No. Not enough.”
He faced Thomas.
“You knew my wife believed money was being stolen, and nobody told me?”
“You had stepped away from operations.”
“My wife died three weeks later.”
Thomas’s face hardened. “Do not connect those things without evidence.”
“I haven’t.”
“You’re implying it.”
“I’m asking why people I trusted buried the meeting.”
“We did not bury anything.”
Richard turned the laptop toward them.
“The folder was manually purged.”
Thomas looked at the screen.
Richard continued. “Not corrupted. Not archived incorrectly. Purged.”
“By whom?”
“That’s what we’re trying to establish.”
Daniel noticed Vivian’s hand trembling.
“Vivian.”
She looked at him.
“Who else argued with Anna?”
Tears appeared in her eyes almost instantly, which frightened Daniel more than denial would have.
“I told her to stop.”
The room seemed to contract.
“You?”
Vivian nodded.
“Why?”
“Because she was angry, and Gregory was angry, and your father’s old agreements were being dragged into it. I thought she was making accusations before she had enough proof.”
“What agreements?”
Vivian looked confused.
“Something about voting rights. I don’t remember the details.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“What did Anna want?”
“To freeze several accounts until they were reviewed.”
“Did the board vote?”
Vivian nodded.
“What happened?”
“The motion failed.”
Daniel looked around the table.
“Who voted against her?”
Vivian’s silence answered before she spoke.
“Most of us.”
The betrayal was not dramatic. No shouting filled Daniel’s head. No sudden rage blurred his vision.
Instead came the flat realization that while he had been home reading bedtime stories to Sophie, Anna had stood in this company fighting alone against people both of them trusted.
“Did she tell you she was afraid?” he asked.
Vivian closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Thomas stood again.
“She said many things that night.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What did she say?”
Thomas exhaled.
“She said someone was manipulating executive authorizations. She believed records were being changed before they reached you.”
Richard murmured, “Exactly what we’re seeing now.”
Thomas ignored him.
Daniel asked, “And you still voted against her?”
“We voted against an emergency freeze that would have disrupted company operations based on incomplete evidence.”
“Did Gregory vote?”
“He wasn’t a director.”
“But he was in the room.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Thomas’s expression hardened.
“He was chief operating officer.”
Daniel remembered the date.
Three years earlier, Gregory had not yet been formally appointed COO.
He had been executive vice president of operations.
“You’re lying.”
Thomas’s face changed.
Richard looked between them.
Daniel continued. “Gregory became COO after Anna died.”
Nobody answered.
“He did not have standing to attend a closed board session unless someone invited him.”
Thomas said, “He was asked to explain the transactions.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
“Who invited Gregory?”
Vivian whispered, “Harold.”
Daniel turned toward the third director.
Harold Pike had said almost nothing all morning.
He looked seventy now, though Daniel remembered him as stronger. He had been Bellmont’s outside financial adviser for years before joining the board.
“Why?” Daniel asked.
Harold rubbed one thumb over the other.
“Because I thought Gregory could answer her questions.”
“Could he?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
Harold looked toward Thomas.
Daniel noticed.
“Stop checking each other before you answer me.”
Harold’s shoulders sagged.
“Anna accused him of creating duplicate vendor structures.”
“Northbridge?”
“I never heard that name.”
“Did she have documents?”
“Yes.”
Richard leaned forward. “What documents?”
“Printed ledgers. Access logs. Copies of approvals.”
Daniel felt a jolt.
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there.”
“She took them with her.”
“After the meeting?”
“Yes.”
Daniel turned toward Richard.
“Her car.”
Richard understood immediately.
Police inventory.
Daniel asked, “Were any company records recovered after the accident?”
Richard was already searching.
“The police property list should be in the legal archive.”
They waited.
Nothing appeared.
Richard tried a second search.
His jaw tightened.
“What?”
“The inventory record is missing.”
Daniel stared at him.
“From police?”
“From our legal file.”
“Can we request the original?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
Richard began typing.
Daniel’s phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
He opened the message.
Gregory knows you found the October meeting. He will leave before noon.
Daniel looked at the time.
8:41.
“Where is Gregory now?”
Richard checked building access.
“His badge entered the underground garage at 7:51.”
“So he’s here?”
“No elevator record.”
Daniel frowned.
“How did his account enter the archive?”
Richard’s expression changed.
“Remote access.”
Daniel immediately called building security.
No answer from Gregory’s office.
His company phone went directly to voicemail.
Daniel said, “Find his vehicle.”
Richard contacted security downstairs.
Thirty seconds later, an answer came back.
Gregory’s car was in the garage.
Driver’s door unlocked.
No sign of Gregory.
Daniel felt the shape of a diversion.
“He wanted us to think he came here.”
Richard nodded.
“Or someone used his car.”
“Can we locate his company phone?”
“Powered off.”
“Home?”
Marcus returned from the compliance room.
“I have a team heading there.”
Daniel looked at him. “Quietly.”
“Understood.”
Richard’s screen flashed.
Another archive file opened under Gregory’s credentials.
This one was not about Anna’s death.
It was labeled BOARD INDEMNIFICATION—PRIVATE.
Richard copied it.
“Open the copy.”
The document appeared.
A legal agreement, dated two weeks after the October meeting.
Daniel read the first page.
It provided unusual protections to certain executives and directors concerning decisions made during a restructuring investigation.
“What is this?”
Richard scrolled.
His face tightened.
“It’s designed to shield participants from civil claims related to financial disclosure failures.”
Daniel looked toward Thomas.
“You signed this.”
Thomas stared at the page.
“So did Vivian.”
Daniel looked at her.
“And Harold.”
Harold lowered his head.
Daniel continued reading.
A fourth signature appeared.
Gregory Shaw.
Then a fifth.
Elaine Mercer.
Daniel’s blood went cold.
“No.”
Richard leaned closer.
“She supposedly signed as witness.”
Daniel stood abruptly.
“Anna never signed this.”
Vivian looked stunned.
“I never saw her sign it.”
Thomas said, “Neither did I.”
Daniel looked at him.
“But you signed it.”
“Yes.”
“Who presented it?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Gregory.”
There it was again.
Gregory at every intersection.
Yet Anna’s letter had said Gregory was not the most dangerous person.
Daniel looked at the anonymous message.
Gregory knows you found the October meeting.
Whoever was warning Daniel knew Gregory’s movements almost in real time.
That person was either helping him—
—or controlling what he saw.
Marcus’s phone rang.
He answered, listened, then looked at Daniel.
“Gregory isn’t home.”
“Wife?”
“She says he left before six.”
“For work?”
“She thought so.”
“Did he take luggage?”
Marcus asked through the phone.
The answer took several seconds.
“Yes.”
Daniel felt a hard certainty settle.
“He’s running.”
Richard closed the indemnification document.
“I can alert airports.”
“Do it.”
Thomas stood again. “If Gregory is fleeing, we need law enforcement.”
Daniel looked at him.
“We’ll involve them when we know what crime we’re reporting.”
“We already have forged records.”
“And possible fraud.”
Richard added, “Plus evidence tampering.”
Daniel nodded.
“Prepare the package.”
His phone buzzed.
This time it was Claire.
Security had reached her.
Daniel answered.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still have the drive?”
A pause.
“No.”
Daniel’s stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“I hid it somewhere else before I called you.”
“Where?”
Claire’s voice became strained.
“Anna told me not to keep it at home.”
“You said you hadn’t opened it.”
“I haven’t.”
“Where is it?”
“She left instructions.”
“Claire.”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”
“Tell me now.”
Claire inhaled.
“The drive is inside a storage locker Anna rented under another name.”
Daniel gripped the edge of the table.
“Which name?”
“I only know the initials.”
“What initials?”
“E.M.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
Anna had used her maiden initials.
“What else did she leave?”
“A key.”
“Do you have it?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll come to you.”
“No.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because the instructions say you have to go somewhere first.”
“Where?”
Claire read from the letter.
“The old Bellmont property on West Alder Street.”
Daniel frowned.
That building had been closed for nearly four years.
His father’s first restaurant.
The place where Bellmont Hospitality had begun.
“What am I supposed to find there?”
Claire answered quietly.
“A safe behind the original manager’s office wall.”
Daniel looked at Richard.
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Claire added something that changed the room.
“Anna wrote one sentence under the address.”
Daniel waited.
“She said, ‘If Daniel is reading this, Gregory has already failed to keep the truth buried.’”
Daniel stared through the glass wall toward the executive floor.
Gregory might be fleeing.
But Anna had expected that.
Which meant whatever she had hidden was never meant merely to expose him.
It was meant to expose whoever stood behind him.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: At Bellmont’s Abandoned First Restaurant, Daniel Finds Anna’s Hidden Evidence and Learns Someone in His Family Was Used as Leverage
A Quiet Dinner With His Daughter Turns Into the Exact Kind of Test Daniel Mercer Came to Investigate
Part 5 of 47
