Chapter 8 - The House on Laurel Creek
Deputy Mercer told them not to go to the address.
Malcolm agreed.
Then he searched it.
The house on Laurel Creek Road belonged to a company called Laurel Ridge Holdings.
Tasha sat beside him in the hotel business center while rain tapped the windows.
“Shell company?”
“Probably.”
“Owned by?”
“Registered agent is Patrick Sloan.”
Tasha closed her eyes.
“Of course.”
They sent everything to Mercer.
Then Malcolm called Celeste.
She went silent when he read the address.
“What happened there in 2021?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
Malcolm almost shouted.
Instead he said, “Someone photographed my children and used that address to scare us. We are past deciding what I need to worry about.”
Celeste whispered, “Come upstairs.”
She was in the children’s room.
Nia colored at the desk. Jordan wore headphones.
Celeste took Malcolm and Tasha into the hallway.
“In 2021,” she said, “after Summit Crown purchased Blue Meridian, Leon Price asked to meet me.”
“At Laurel Creek?”
“Yes.”
“Why there?”
“It was discreet.”
“Why did you need discreet?”
Celeste flinched.
“Because he offered me money.”
Tasha crossed her arms.
“How much?”
“One hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
Malcolm laughed bitterly.
“Yesterday it was fifty.”
“The fifty was recent. This was different.”
“For what?”
“To sign a confidentiality agreement and support future development negotiations.”
Malcolm stared.
“You took it?”
Celeste shook her head.
“Not then.”
“Not then?”
“I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because Isaiah had only been dead a year.”
Malcolm’s anger sharpened.
“That is your reason?”
“My reason was that I knew he would hate me.”
“But later you took money.”
“From the trust agreement. Not personally.”
“Did you?”
Celeste looked away.
Tasha stepped closer.
“Celeste.”
She began crying.
“I borrowed from it.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand.”
Malcolm stared in disbelief.
“For what?”
“My mortgage.”
“You stole trust money?”
“I paid it back.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“With what?”
Celeste said nothing.
Malcolm understood.
“Summit Crown.”
“They paid the fifty thousand access fee.”
“And you used part of it.”
“I replaced what I took.”
“With their money.”
“Yes.”
Tasha whispered, “That gave them leverage.”
Celeste nodded miserably.
“Price knew.”
“How?”
“Sloan.”
Malcolm turned away.
The family betrayal was no longer one decision.
It was a chain.
Sloan knew Celeste had borrowed trust funds.
Price knew Sloan knew.
Celeste authorized access because refusing might expose her.
Summit Crown gained entry.
And the mountain fell.
“Did Price threaten you?” Malcolm asked.
“Not directly.”
“What did he say?”
“That financial irregularities by a trustee could become public during a dispute.”
Tasha muttered, “That is a threat.”
“Yes.”
Celeste wiped her eyes.
“I told myself a survey wouldn’t hurt anything.”
“You told yourself what you needed to hear.”
She nodded.
Malcolm wanted to hate her.
It would have been easier.
But he remembered Celeste taking Jordan to school when Malcolm worked nights. Sitting beside Isaiah during chemotherapy. Cooking Thanksgiving dinner when Tasha’s mother died.
People did terrible things without becoming simple monsters.
That did not erase consequences.
It made them harder to understand.
Jordan opened the hotel door.
“Dad?”
Malcolm quickly stepped away from Celeste.
“What?”
“Someone’s downstairs asking for you.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“Name?”
“Dr. Morris.”
Malcolm and Tasha hurried down.
The geotechnical engineer stood in the lobby holding a sealed evidence bag.
“I thought you should know before this hits the official report.”
“What?”
“We found explosive residue.”
Malcolm stared.
“Where?”
“Two boreholes above the primary failure plane.”
Tasha gripped Malcolm’s arm.
Dr. Morris continued.
“Trace residue alone doesn’t prove illegal blasting caused the slide. But it proves explosives were used recently.”
“How recently?”
“Likely within days.”
Malcolm felt anger rise.
“Summit Crown publicly denied explosives.”
“I know.”
“Can you determine charge size?”
“Not precisely from residue.”
“Could a small blast trigger a larger failure?”
“If the rock mass was already critically unstable, yes.”
Tasha whispered, “Isaiah’s report.”
Dr. Morris nodded.
“I need that report if you have it.”
“We don’t.”
“But it existed.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll subpoena or request any county copies.”
“Would the county have one?”
“If permits or hazard correspondence referenced it.”
Dr. Morris hesitated.
“There’s another problem.”
“What?”
“The boreholes were placed close to a mapped fracture.”
Malcolm pulled out Isaiah’s sketch.
“This fracture?”
Her eyes widened.
“Where did you get that?”
“My father.”
She studied it.
“This is very close to what we mapped today.”
Malcolm felt chilled.
Someone had not drilled randomly.
They had drilled where the mountain was weakest.
Dr. Morris looked at him.
“If whoever placed those holes had this map, they would have known exactly what they were disturbing.”
Malcolm’s phone rang.
Mercer.
He answered.
“We identified the man from Jordan’s video.”
“Evan Rourke?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“That’s why I’m calling.”
Malcolm waited.
Mercer continued.
“He checked out of his motel yesterday morning and hasn’t answered his phone since.”
“Did he leave town?”
“We don’t know.”
“Find him.”
“We are.”
Malcolm looked at the photograph of his children still open on Tasha’s phone.
“Mercer.”
“Yes?”
“What if Rourke isn’t the one who took this picture?”
A pause.
“That possibility has occurred to us.”
Malcolm looked toward Celeste.
Then toward the lobby doors.
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For the first time since the landslide, he understood that the danger was no longer falling from above.
Someone was watching them from level ground.
