Chapter 7 - The Man Adrian Trusted
Marcus Reed had been Adrian’s closest professional ally for fifteen years.
They had met at Columbia Business School.
Marcus had stood beside Adrian at Richard Vale’s funeral.
Adrian had stood beside Marcus when his first child was born.
Now security logs placed a two-million-dollar fraudulent authorization inside Marcus’s office.
Marcus did not run.
He waited.
When Adrian returned to Manhattan, Marcus sat at the conference table with his hands visible.
“Ask.”
Adrian closed the door.
“Did you authorize Harbor Crest?”
“No.”
“Did anyone use your office?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“My staff. You. Board members. Cleaning crews.”
“Thursday at nine sixteen.”
Marcus looked at him.
“I wasn’t here.”
“Where?”
“My daughter’s school concert.”
“Can you prove it?”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“There are two hundred parents and a six-minute video of me embarrassing her by singing.”
Adrian sat.
“Why your terminal?”
“To point at me.”
“Or because you used it.”
Marcus’s face changed.
“Careful.”
“I have to ask.”
“No. You want to ask because accusing me hurts less than asking who else had access.”
Adrian stared.
“Who?”
Marcus pushed a printed access log across the table.
“One temporary badge entered the executive floor that night.”
Adrian read the name.
DR. MALCOLM VOSS.
“What was he doing here?”
“Registered as a private medical consultant for your mother.”
“My mother wasn’t here.”
“I know.”
Adrian’s phone vibrated.
Detective Ortiz.
She had received preliminary toxicology from the unlabeled medication bottle.
It contained clonazepam and a strong anticholinergic agent capable of causing confusion, sedation, blurred vision, and memory problems in elderly patients.
Neither had been prescribed to Evelyn.
Adrian felt sick.
“Could it kill her?”
“In the wrong dose, especially with pneumonia, it could contribute to respiratory depression.”
“Who compounded it?”
“They’re tracing.”
“Voss?”
“We don’t know yet.”
After the call, Adrian told Marcus.
Marcus sat back.
“Someone wanted your mother impaired.”
“To certify incapacity.”
“And activate the forged trust.”
Adrian nodded.
Marcus looked toward the Helix documents.
“Then the murder attempt wasn’t the original plan.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“It was panic.”
“Yes.”
That made Celeste more frightening, not less.
She had planned fraud.
Manipulation.
Medical abuse.
Then Evelyn discovered it, and Celeste escalated.
But someone else had facilitated the plan.
At Greenwich police headquarters, Celeste sat with an attorney.
Detective Ortiz placed the toxicology summary on the table.
Celeste read it.
Her attorney whispered something.
Celeste shook her head.
“No.”
The attorney frowned.
Celeste looked at Ortiz.
“I didn’t give Evelyn those pills.”
“You participated in creating a forged incapacity document.”
Celeste said nothing.
“We have enough to seek charges.”
“Then charge me.”
“Who supplied the medication?”
Silence.
“Dr. Voss?”
Celeste looked away.
Ortiz leaned forward.
“He’s protecting himself. Not you.”
Still nothing.
Ortiz changed strategy.
“Martin Arden.”
Celeste’s eyes returned.
“We reopened portions of your father’s case.”
Her attorney touched her arm.
“Don’t.”
Celeste ignored him.
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because Richard Vale was a criminal.”
“Do you have evidence?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Celeste smiled faintly.
“Evelyn has it.”
“Not anymore.”
That broke through.
“What?”
“The archive is being examined.”
Celeste leaned forward despite her attorney’s warning.
“Then look at account 8841-B.”
Ortiz wrote it down.
“What is it?”
“The account my father supposedly used to steal forty-eight million.”
“And?”
“My father never controlled it.”
“Who did?”
Celeste’s voice dropped.
“Richard Vale.”
Back at the mansion, Naomi stood inside Evelyn’s bedroom for the first time since the attack.
The mattress had been stripped.
The pillow was gone.
Evidence markers still dotted the carpet.
She looked at the antique writing desk.
A memory surfaced.
Three weeks earlier, Celeste had been standing there.
Naomi had entered unexpectedly.
Celeste shut the desk drawer.
At the time she said she was looking for stationery.
Naomi knelt.
The drawer where police had found Evelyn’s note looked ordinary.
But the writing desk had belonged to Richard Vale.
Naomi ran her fingers underneath.
A brass latch clicked.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a yellowed envelope.
RICHARD — PRIVATE.
Naomi did not touch it.
She called Ortiz.
This time she followed instructions.
Crime-scene officers arrived.
They opened the envelope wearing gloves.
Inside were three pages.
The first was a bank statement.
The second was a handwritten note.
The third was a photograph of Malcolm Voss at twenty-three standing beside Richard Vale.
On the back, Richard had written:
Malcolm knows what Martin found.
Keep him loyal.
Naomi read it twice.
Then she saw the bank statement.
Account 8841-B.
The account Celeste had named.
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And printed beside the authorized controller was not Martin Arden.
It was Richard Vale.
