Chapter 4 - The Third Man in the Photograph
Arthur didn’t want to talk about his father.
That became obvious immediately.
“There is no reason to discuss him.”
“There’s a picture of him standing beside your car on the night Daniel died.”
Silence.
I was back in Arthur’s office after hours.
Vincent had swept the room twice.
Arthur stood near the covered windows.
I placed the photograph on his desk.
“Describe it.”
“Arthur—”
“Describe it.”
So I did.
“You’re on the left. Daniel is beside the driver’s door. There’s an older man behind him. Mid-sixties, maybe. Gray hair. Same jawline as you.”
Arthur’s expression hardened.
“Sebastian Cornero.”
“Your father.”
“Yes.”
“You said only you and Daniel were there.”
“He wasn’t in the car.”
“But he was with you before you left.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because my father died four years ago.”
“That doesn’t make him irrelevant.”
“It makes him unavailable for questioning.”
I crossed my arms.
Arthur sighed.
“Norah.”
“No. You hired me to read what other people were afraid to read. Apparently that includes your family history.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he returned to his chair.
“My father built the original company.”
“Legally?”
Arthur almost smiled.
“Mostly.”
“Comforting.”
“He believed loyalty mattered more than law, money, sometimes even family.”
“Daniel disagreed?”
“Yes.”
The room became quiet.
Arthur continued.
“Daniel wanted to separate the legitimate businesses from everything connected to our father’s old network. Logistics. Real estate. Construction. He believed we could build something different.”
“And you?”
“I agreed.”
“So your father would lose control.”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel died.”
Arthur’s voice turned flat.
“Three weeks before the board vote.”
There it was.
A motive.
But Sebastian Cornero was dead.
Unless the money had been moved before his death.
I opened Bellweather Capital’s transaction history.
“Arthur, these transfers began eighteen months ago.”
“Then my father didn’t make them.”
“No.”
“But someone wants us looking backward.”
I understood.
“The crash is a distraction.”
“Not entirely.”
Arthur stood.
“Whoever is moving the money knows details about Daniel that almost nobody knew.”
“Meaning?”
“Someone from inside the family.”
The words sat heavily between us.
That night we created a list.
Board members.
Executives.
Old advisers.
Anyone who had worked with Sebastian and Daniel five years earlier.
Seventeen names.
Arthur eliminated six based on dates.
Vincent eliminated four based on security records.
That left seven.
Malcolm Reed was one.
At nine thirty, Malcolm called Arthur.
He sounded drunk.
Arthur put the call on speaker.
“Arthur.”
“Malcolm.”
“I need to speak with you.”
“You’re speaking.”
“Not on the phone.”
Arthur’s expression changed.
“Where?”
“Lakefront garage. Lower level.”
“When?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Vincent shook his head.
Arthur understood without seeing him.
“No.”
Malcolm’s breathing accelerated.
“Arthur, please. I know about Bellweather.”
Arthur went completely still.
“What do you know?”
“They’re watching me.”
“Who?”
“I can’t say.”
“Then call when you can.”
“Daniel didn’t create Bellweather.”
Arthur’s face changed.
“What?”
“He discovered it.”
Malcolm lowered his voice.
“Your brother was trying to expose them.”
A noise sounded in the background.
Malcolm suddenly stopped speaking.
“Malcolm?”
Nothing.
Then:
“I have to go.”
The call ended.
Vincent immediately sent a team.
We didn’t go.
Arthur hated it.
He paced the office, counting his own steps unconsciously.
Twenty-three minutes later, Vincent’s phone rang.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Arthur stopped.
Vincent listened.
Then said:
“Malcolm’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“He left before our team arrived.”
“Find him.”
“We’re trying.”
I checked Malcolm’s corporate account.
His calendar.
His transactions.
Then something caught my attention.
“Wait.”
Arthur turned.
“What?”
“Malcolm accessed the accounting system twelve minutes ago.”
Vincent came closer.
“From where?”
I traced the login.
My stomach dropped.
“Here.”
Arthur frowned.
“This building?”
“Yes.”
“What floor?”
I checked.
“Thirty-two.”
Vincent stared at me.
Arthur’s office was on thirty-two.
We were all silent.
Then the private printer behind Arthur’s desk activated.
A single sheet emerged.
Vincent pulled it out.
“What does it say?” Arthur asked.
Vincent didn’t answer.
I took the page.
Only one sentence appeared.
NORAH HAYES WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO FIND DANIEL’S LEDGER.
Below it was an access code.
I recognized the format.
Arthur’s private archive.
Arthur whispered:
“What ledger?”
I looked at him.
And suddenly realized something worse.
May you like
Someone inside the building wasn’t merely watching us.
They were guiding us.
