Chapter 10 - Rebecca Rolled Into the Boardroom Alone
The building went into security lockdown.
Doors sealed.
Elevators disabled.
Nobody panicked.
Corporate directors apparently panicked by sending emails.
Samuel Price disconnected the boardroom display from the network.
The message remained.
STOP LOOKING FOR KEVIN.
Rebecca looked at Martin.
“Can they access Lily’s information?”
My stomach dropped.
Martin was already calling security.
Rebecca’s voice sharpened.
“My daughter.”
“I know.”
Lily and Jaime were at Rebecca’s house with her nanny.
Security confirmed the residence system was intact.
No unusual activity.
Rebecca did not relax.
Neither did I.
Victor stood near the table.
“You still think I orchestrated this?”
Rebecca looked at him.
“I think you concealed the covenant index.”
“Yes.”
The admission surprised everyone.
“Why?”
“Because I believed it had been legally terminated.”
“Based on what?”
“Your father.”
Rebecca stared.
Victor continued.
“In 2003, Charles told me the Maple Street restrictions were resolved.”
“Did he show you termination papers?”
“No.”
“And you accepted his word.”
“He was CEO.”
“So am I.”
Victor looked away.
Point made.
Rebecca continued.
“Did you ask Kevin Delaney to sell his shares?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know he worked for Sloan?”
“Not until today.”
“Did you authorize surveillance on me?”
“No.”
“Did you forge Ethan’s agreement?”
“No.”
“Did you upload the false termination?”
“No.”
Rebecca believed at least some of that.
I could see it.
The villain we had built in our heads was becoming inconveniently human.
Still ambitious.
Still willing to flatten a diner.
But maybe not the architect of everything.
Samuel traced the network intrusion.
“Local terminal.”
“Where?”
“Thirty-first floor.”
Rebecca frowned.
“That’s executive operations.”
Security cleared the room first.
Then allowed Rebecca and Martin downstairs.
I started to follow.
A guard stopped me.
“Employees only.”
Rebecca looked back.
“He’s with me.”
The guard hesitated.
She gave him the work voice.
“He’s with me.”
We went.
The thirty-first floor was nearly empty.
Lights dimmed after hours.
Security found the terminal.
An unused conference room.
Laptop open.
Remote access device attached.
No person.
But a coffee cup remained warm.
Rebecca looked around.
“They were here.”
Security checked stairwells.
Nothing.
Then Martin found a printed page beside the copier.
Maple Street floor plan.
Table Six circled.
Under it:
REMOVE CONTENT BEFORE MONDAY.
My skin went cold.
“The notes.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“What?”
“The hidden drawer.”
Someone wanted whatever was under Table Six.
Not the diner.
The contents.
We called Frank.
No answer.
Melissa.
No answer.
I called Jaime’s phone.
He picked up.
“Dad?”
“Where are you?”
“Rebecca’s.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Stay there.”
“Okay.”
“Do not leave.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Frank called me.”
My blood went cold.
“When?”
“Like ten minutes ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked if I remembered where the metal compartment was.”
Rebecca moved closer.
“And?”
“I told him.”
“Then what?”
“He said somebody was inside the diner.”
My chest tightened.
“Did he say who?”
“No.”
“Call ended?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca was already telling security to dispatch police.
I headed for the elevator.
Lockdown had lifted.
Rebecca followed.
“You’re not going alone.”
“This may be dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“You have Lily.”
“And you have Jaime.”
“That is exactly why—”
“Stop deciding for me.”
I did.
She looked furious.
And scared.
“We go together.”
Martin joined.
“No.”
Rebecca and I said it simultaneously.
He stopped.
“Fine.”
We drove through rain.
Not romantic rain.
Hard Oregon rain that made streetlights smear across glass.
Rebecca’s driver moved faster than I wanted.
Not fast enough.
Maple Street’s neon sign was off when we arrived.
Front door unlocked.
I stepped inside.
“Frank?”
Silence.
Rebecca followed.
The diner looked normal.
Too normal.
Mugs stacked.
Chairs.
Counter.
Then I saw Table Six.
The hidden drawer was open.
Empty.
Every note gone.
The metal compartment beneath it had been forced.
Ruth’s notebook.
Tape.
Letters.
All gone.
“Frank!”
A noise from the kitchen.
I ran.
Frank sat on the floor beside the walk-in cooler.
Blood on his forehead.
Conscious.
“Jesus.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’ve done worse shaving.”
Rebecca called emergency services.
I crouched.
“Who did this?”
“Couldn’t see.”
“Man?”
“Think so.”
“What happened?”
“I came back after closing to get the trust files.”
“And?”
“Lights went out.”
He touched his forehead.
“Then somebody introduced my skull to the refrigerator.”
“Did they take anything else?”
He shook his head.
“Only Table Six.”
Rebecca looked around.
“Why the notes?”
Frank closed his eyes.
“I think there was something in there we never found.”
“What?”
“A note my father left.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
He reached into his apron.
Pulled out a torn scrap.
“I grabbed this when the guy dropped the stack.”
The paper was old.
One sentence.
If Ruth’s copy is ever challenged, the witness is still alive.
Rebecca stared.
“Witness?”
Frank turned the scrap over.
A name.
Eleanor Brooks.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“You know her.”
I could barely speak.
“That’s my mother.”
Frank stared.
“I didn’t know.”
My mother lived three hours away.
She had never once mentioned Sloan.
Never mentioned Maple Street before I found it myself.
Never mentioned Ruth.
I pulled out my phone.
Called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a text arrived.
From Mom.
Only five words.
Ethan, do not come here.
Another message followed.
A photograph.
May you like
My mother sitting at her kitchen table.
Across from her sat Kevin Delaney.
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