Chapter 4 - The Harbor Ledger
Garrison opened the inner security panel but not the front door.
Ethan stood outside.
Alone.
Hands visible.
“Search him,” Garrison said.
Ethan rolled his eyes.
“Nice to see you too.”
Caleb searched him through the vestibule.
No weapon.
No recording device beyond his phone.
No obvious threat.
Garrison let him inside.
Briar held up her laptop.
“Who paid you first?”
Ethan stopped.
He looked at the photograph.
Then closed his eyes briefly.
“Victor.”
Garrison moved.
Not violently.
Just one step.
Ethan instinctively stepped back.
Briar put herself between them.
“Talk.”
Ethan nodded.
“Four months ago, an intermediary contacted me. Said a woman working inside Halloran Holdings had evidence of financial crimes and might be in danger.”
“Victor?” Briar asked.
“I didn't know it was him.”
“You just said he paid you.”
“I found out later.”
“For what?”
“To meet you.”
Briar stared.
“Our coffee?”
“Yes.”
“You pretended to spill your drink.”
“Yes.”
“You asked for my number.”
“Yes.”
His shame looked real.
That did not help.
“And dinner?”
“That part was me.”
Garrison laughed quietly.
Ethan looked at him.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.”
“Garrison,” Briar said.
He stopped.
Ethan continued.
“Victor's intermediary gave us fragments of financial records. Enough to suggest laundering and tax fraud but not enough for a warrant.”
“Because the records were fake,” Garrison said.
Ethan looked at him.
“Some were.”
Briar understood first.
“He wanted investigators looking at Garrison.”
“Yes.”
“While he moved money elsewhere.”
“Yes.”
Garrison's face became stone.
Ethan looked at Briar.
“But then I realized someone else was sending real information.”
“The anonymous packet.”
He nodded.
“Those records matched what you described tonight.”
“The Harbor Ledger.”
Garrison looked at her.
“You named it?”
“I needed to call it something.”
Ethan said, “Victor didn't know about the full ledger. At least not at first.”
“Now he does,” Briar replied.
“And he wants it.”
Garrison folded his arms.
“He already took it.”
Briar shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Garrison's eyes narrowed.
“You said the safe-deposit box contained the notebook and flash drive.”
“It did.”
“Then he has it.”
“He has a notebook.”
Garrison stepped closer.
“A copy?”
Briar nodded.
“The real ledger was too dangerous to store in one place.”
Ethan almost smiled.
Garrison did not.
“Where is it?”
“I split it.”
“Into what?”
“Three sections.”
Caleb leaned against the wall.
“Smart.”
Garrison shot him a look.
Caleb shrugged.
“It is.”
Briar continued.
“The notebook in the box documented dates and vendors. The flash drive held screenshots. Neither included the encryption key.”
“Where is the key?” Ethan asked.
Briar looked at Garrison.
“You already have it.”
He frowned.
“No, I don't.”
“Yes.”
“When did you give me anything?”
“Eleven months ago.”
His expression changed.
“The warning.”
She nodded.
“The transfer number wasn't only a transfer number.”
Garrison remembered.
“482119.”
“Split it.”
He did mentally.
“Page, line, character?” Ethan asked.
Briar nodded.
“From what?”
Garrison suddenly looked toward the bookshelf.
Briar followed his gaze.
A green leather volume sat behind glass.
His mother's old copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
“How did you know I owned that?” he asked.
Briar said nothing.
He took the book down.
Page forty-eight.
Line twenty-one.
Nineteenth character.
Garrison stared.
“A.”
Briar smiled faintly.
“You need all six number sets.”
“You only sent me one.”
“No. I sent six warnings over three weeks.”
Garrison's face sharpened.
“The voicemail.”
“The parking receipt.”
“The flowers sent to Nora's foundation.”
“The conference folder.”
“The envelope at your gym.”
“And Harbor Route.”
“Yes.”
Garrison stared at her.
“You were the person behind all of them.”
“Yes.”
He sat slowly.
Not because he was weak.
Because something inside him had shifted.
“I thought there were multiple sources.”
“That was the point.”
“Why didn't you go to police?”
“Because one of the payment recipients was a police pension administrator.”
Ethan looked grim.
“Name?”
“Later.”
“You don't trust me.”
“I met you three weeks ago because someone paid you to approach me.”
“Fair.”
Garrison looked at Briar.
“Why help me?”
She held his gaze.
“Because Harbor wasn't supposed to be an ambush.”
“What was it?”
“A murder.”
Silence.
Garrison's face became cold.
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
The words landed heavily.
She continued.
“I found an expense approval for a private logistics company. The invoice description said emergency extraction, but the internal notes contained vehicle make, route, your departure time and a medical profile.”
Garrison frowned.
“Medical?”
“Blood type.”
Caleb straightened.
“That isn't an extraction.”
“No.”
Briar swallowed.
“They had planned everything.”
Ethan asked, “Why?”
“That was what I couldn't prove.”
Garrison said, “Victor wanted control.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Briar looked at him.
“Your death didn't automatically give him Halloran Holdings.”
“No.”
“So someone else benefited.”
Garrison stood.
“Who?”
“I found another name hidden in the disbursement chain.”
“What name?”
She hesitated.
“Eleanor Halloran.”
Garrison went white.
Caleb looked away.
Ethan frowned.
“Who is Eleanor?”
Garrison's voice barely sounded like his own.
“My mother.”
Briar had known this moment would come.
She had imagined it for eleven months.
In none of those imagined versions had she been ready.
“She's dead,” Garrison said.
“I know.”
“She died twelve years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then how was her name approving transfers four years ago?”
“I don't know.”
Garrison turned away.
Briar saw his hands close.
Not rage.
Pain.
Someone had used his dead mother's identity.
He walked toward the window.
“This is why you stayed at Halloran.”
“Yes.”
“To investigate.”
“At first.”
He looked back.
“At first?”
Briar felt heat rise to her face.
She hated timing.
She hated secrets.
She hated that Ethan and Caleb were standing there.
“I stayed because I thought someone close to you was using your company.”
“And later?”
She looked at him.
“You know why.”
His expression softened.
Ethan looked at the ceiling.
Caleb suddenly became fascinated by his phone.
Briar cleared her throat.
“We need the remaining ledger pieces.”
Garrison let the moment pass.
“Where?”
“First section is hidden inside my office.”
Caleb frowned.
“Building could be compromised.”
“Second is in Nora's foundation archives.”
Garrison looked startled.
“You used my sister's charity?”
“Nobody audits framed donor certificates.”
Caleb nodded approvingly.
Again Garrison looked at him.
Caleb raised both hands.
“Still smart.”
“And the third?” Ethan asked.
Briar hesitated.
“My apartment.”
Garrison's face hardened.
“No.”
“We need it.”
“Security hasn't cleared the apartment.”
“We don't have a choice.”
“We always have a choice.”
“Victor has a copy of the notebook. Once he realizes the key isn't there, he'll work backward.”
“And he'll go to your apartment.”
“Exactly.”
Garrison stared at her.
“That is not an argument for going there.”
“It is if we arrive first.”
Ethan said, “She's right.”
Garrison looked at him.
“You have become very comfortable in my home.”
Ethan leaned against the chair.
“Your couch is excellent.”
Briar almost laughed.
Garrison did not.
They left twenty minutes later.
Caleb arranged two vehicles.
No predictable route.
Briar sat in the second car with Garrison.
As they approached her street, he spoke.
“If anything feels wrong, we leave.”
“Agreed.”
“No debate.”
“Agreed.”
“You're agreeing suspiciously easily.”
“I can be reasonable.”
“I have evidence otherwise.”
She looked at him.
“You followed me to a date.”
“Yes.”
“You ran a background check on my date.”
“Yes.”
“You had security monitor my dentist.”
“Outside the dentist.”
“That distinction is not helping you.”
He almost smiled.
Then Caleb's voice came through the radio.
“Hold.”
Both went still.
“What?” Garrison asked.
“Front door is closed.”
“That's good.”
“No.”
Caleb paused.
“The security seal we placed this afternoon is broken.”
Garrison looked at Briar.
She felt cold.
Caleb continued.
“There are lights on inside.”
“I left everything off,” Briar whispered.
Garrison reached for her hand without thinking.
She let him take it.
They parked around the corner.
Security entered first.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then one minute.
Caleb returned.
His face was grim.
“Apartment is empty.”
Briar exhaled.
“But someone searched it.”
They went upstairs.
Drawers open.
Books removed.
Cushions cut.
Her desk destroyed.
Briar stood in the middle of the wreckage.
Garrison's expression was unreadable.
“Where is the ledger piece?”
She walked toward the kitchen.
Opened the freezer.
Removed an ordinary box of frozen waffles.
Garrison stared.
“Seriously?”
“Nobody steals freezer-burned waffles.”
Inside the cardboard sleeve was a sealed flash card.
Untouched.
Briar smiled.
“Got it.”
Then she noticed something beneath it.
A photograph.
She had never put it there.
Her smile vanished.
Garrison took it.
The photograph showed a hospital room.
A woman asleep in bed.
Date printed in the corner:
Sixteen years earlier.
Garrison's sister Nora.
Alive.
Holding a newborn.
Garrison turned the photo over.
Three handwritten words were on the back.
HE IS YOURS.
Garrison stopped breathing.
Briar looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, the apartment intercom buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then a woman's voice came through.
“Garrison?”
He froze.
The voice was impossible.
Because it belonged to someone who had been dead for eight years.
May you like
His sister Nora.
And she was downstairs.
