Chapter 5 - A Clean AccidentNia had never considered herself a murderer.
Even while cutting the rope, she had rejected the word.
Murderers hated their victims.
She loved Ethan.
That was what made the logic possible inside her mind.
She loved him.
She simply believed he had been given what belonged to her.
For thirty-nine years, Nia had been the responsible one.
She sat beside their mother through chemotherapy when Ethan was away at college.
She learned Victor’s company from warehouses to boardrooms.
She cleaned up executive scandals.
She negotiated debt.
She stopped one division from collapsing during the 2020 downturn.
Ethan received control because Victor wanted “stability.”
Nia received a consolation prize.
Marcus understood.
Or claimed he did.
“You built half that company,” he had told her.
They were in his apartment six months after Victor’s death.
“Ethan barely knows where the debt covenants are.”
“He learns fast.”
“Stop defending him.”
“He’s my brother.”
“And he’s sitting on your life.”
Marcus opened the trust summary.
“If he dies unmarried and without children, control passes to you.”
Nia had shut the folder.
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
For weeks, Marcus said nothing more.
Then one evening, after too much wine, Nia admitted something.
Ethan had invited her to climb Longs Peak.
A sibling tradition from their twenties.
Marcus looked at her for a long time.
“Mountains kill experienced climbers every year.”
She hated him for saying it.
She hated herself for thinking about it.
By the time they drove toward the Rockies, Nia had crossed boundaries she once believed were permanent.
Now Ethan was alive.
And the rope had been preserved.
Marcus paced their lodge suite.
“We need to leave.”
“That makes us look guilty.”
“We are guilty.”
“Keep your voice down.”
Marcus laughed softly.
“You’re still pretending language matters?”
Nia turned.
“You said the rope would fail completely.”
“It did.”
“Claire had a backup.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“You were supposed to understand the route.”
“I understood enough.”
“No. You understood money.”
Marcus stopped.
“So did you.”
The words struck harder than shouting.
Nia looked away.
Marcus approached.
“If they prove the rope was cut, they will look at motive.”
“They’ll look at everyone.”
“They’ll look at you first.”
“Why?”
“Because you inherit.”
She stared at him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m trying to keep us out of prison.”
“You mean keep yourself out.”
Marcus’s eyes went flat.
“We don’t have the luxury of becoming moral now.”
Downstairs, Detective Medina interviewed Claire.
“Did you see Nia Blake handling the rope?”
“No.”
“Marcus?”
“No.”
“Ethan?”
“He clipped into it.”
“Could one of your staff have damaged it?”
“They had access.”
Medina studied her.
“But?”
Claire leaned back.
“But climbing staff understand what a partial rope cut looks like. If one of them intended to kill a client, they chose the most traceable possible method.”
“Unless they wanted us to blame someone else.”
“Possible.”
Medina nodded.
“What about Nia?”
Claire hesitated.
“I saw her hesitation after Ethan fell.”
“Hesitation?”
“She had access to an emergency anchor. I told her to lock him off.”
“And she didn’t?”
“Not immediately.”
“How long?”
“Maybe two seconds.”
“That doesn’t sound like much.”
“On a cliff, it’s an eternity.”
Medina closed her notebook.
The sheriff’s office had already obtained the expedition’s registration forms and equipment logs.
What they did not yet know was that Marcus had made a mistake before the climb.
The staging area used a digital check-in system maintained by the guide company.
Every time a participant opened the secured equipment locker, the electronic latch recorded the assigned access badge.
At 12:41 p.m., Claire opened it.
At 12:46, an assistant opened it.
At 12:53, Ethan opened it.
At 12:58, Nia opened it.
The climb began at 1:07.
The locker was never opened again.
The damaged red rope had passed inspection at 12:45.
That left thirteen minutes.
Medina stared at the access log.
Then she called the equipment technician.
“Who had the rope between 12:58 and 1:07?”
A keyboard clicked.
“Nia Blake signed out the rack.”
“Anybody else?”
“No.”
Medina looked through the glass wall of the interview room.
Nia was sitting beside Marcus.
He held her hand under the table.
Medina returned to the phone.
“Send me everything.”
Inside the room, Marcus leaned toward Nia.
“Remember. We were together before the climb.”
Nia whispered, “We weren’t.”
“They can’t prove that.”
The door opened.
Medina entered carrying a printed sheet.
Nia saw the time stamp.
12:58.
The detective placed it on the table.
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“Ms. Blake,” she said, “I need you to tell me exactly what you were doing during the nine minutes before your brother began climbing.”
Marcus stopped touching her hand.
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