Chapter 6 - The Brother Who Ordered Her Death
"Tell me about Robert Holloway."
Griffin was standing behind his desk when I entered.
He looked at the paper in my hand.
Something changed in his face.
"Where did you get that?"
"Answer the question."
"Grace—"
"Did you know my father?"
He slowly placed his phone on the desk.
"Yes."
The answer struck me harder than I expected.
"How?"
"Through my father."
"What kind of relationship?"
"Business."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course. Everything comes back to business."
I placed the note in front of him.
"Who sent this?"
"I don't know."
"Do you know what happened to my father?"
Griffin didn't answer quickly enough.
I felt the room tilt.
"My father died in an accident."
"That's what the official investigation concluded."
"Stop saying things like that."
He came around the desk.
I stepped backward.
"No. Don't."
He stopped.
"My father was an accountant," I said. "He worked long hours. He drove an old blue sedan. He taught me how to balance a checkbook when I was nine."
My voice broke.
"He wasn't involved in whatever your family does."
Griffin looked genuinely pained.
"Robert was an external auditor for one of my father's shipping companies."
I stared.
"He discovered irregularities shortly before Thomas died."
My mouth went dry.
"What irregularities?"
"The original Bellwether transfers."
Suddenly, the date on the anonymous photograph made sense.
November fourth.
Seventeen years ago.
My father had died three days after Thomas Castellano.
For seventeen years, I had believed those deaths were unrelated.
"Was he killed?" I whispered.
"I don't have proof."
"Do you suspect it?"
Griffin looked directly at me.
"Yes."
I sank into a chair.
My childhood flashed before me.
My mother sitting at our kitchen table, unable to stop crying.
The funeral.
The officer explaining that the other driver had disappeared before police arrived.
The unanswered questions.
I had become a lawyer because I believed truth mattered.
Now the truth was standing in front of me wearing an expensive black shirt.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know you were Robert's daughter until I saw your full name."
"And then?"
"I wanted to confirm what I suspected."
"Without telling me?"
"Yes."
I stood.
"You don't get to decide which truths I can handle."
"I know."
"Then stop protecting me with lies."
He lowered his gaze.
"You're right."
The admission surprised me.
Before either of us could speak again, his phone rang.
The name on the screen was unmistakable.
ADRIAN.
Griffin looked at me.
Then he answered on speaker.
"Brother."
A smooth male voice filled the study.
"Griffin. I hear you've had an eventful evening."
"Apparently."
"JFK. A car accident. A little unexpected company."
My stomach tightened.
Adrian chuckled softly.
"You always did have a weakness for strays."
Griffin's expression hardened.
"Careful."
"Is Miss Holloway enjoying the mansion?"
I stared at the phone.
He knew exactly where I was.
"Leave her out of this," Griffin said.
"She's already in it."
"What do you want?"
"Something that belongs to me."
"Be specific."
"The original Bellwether ledger."
"I don't have it."
"Then perhaps your guest does."
I looked at my briefcase.
Adrian continued.
"Tell me, Grace. Did Whitmore ever explain why he gave you the Bellwether case?"
My entire body went cold.
Griffin picked up the phone.
"You're speaking to me."
"Actually, brother, I've been speaking to her all along."
The call ended.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Griffin opened a locked drawer.
Inside was an old photograph.
He placed it in front of me.
Three men stood outside an office building.
Thomas Castellano.
Charles Whitmore.
And my father.
On the back, someone had written:
THE ORIGINAL PARTNERS — 2009.
I touched my father's face.
"What does this mean?"
Griffin sat opposite me.
"I think your father helped create the financial structure that later became Bellwether."
"Why would he?"
"Because he believed it was legitimate."
"And when he discovered otherwise?"
"He tried to expose it."
I looked at the photograph again.
The three men were smiling.
They looked like friends.
It occurred to me that betrayal rarely announces itself.
Sometimes it stands beside you in a photograph.
Sometimes it promotes you at work.
Sometimes it calls you family.
And sometimes it knows your flight has been canceled before you do.
Griffin's phone vibrated again.
This time, it was a message containing a photograph.
Daniel Voss sat in a bare room, visibly frightened.
Beside him stood Michael Bennett.
Underneath was one sentence.
MIDNIGHT TOMORROW. BRING THE LAWYER AND THE LEDGER, OR THE WITNESS DISAPPEARS FOREVER.
Griffin looked at me.
I looked at the photograph.
Then I made the decision that would change everything.
"We're not giving Adrian what he wants."
Griffin frowned.
"What are you suggesting?"
May you like
I retrieved my laptop.
"I'm suggesting we make him testify."
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