Chapter 4 - A SMALLER LIE
Reed’s story came quickly.
Luis had become nervous.
Reed had offered to drive him somewhere quiet.
They had argued in the elevator because Luis wanted more money.
Then Luis had left through the service entrance.
“I didn’t hurt him,” Reed said.
One officer, Detective Avery Shaw, asked him to stop talking long enough to provide identification.
The other officer stayed by the door.
Ethan listened without interrupting.
Reed was good at sounding reasonable.
He had made a career of it.
“Where is your car?” Shaw asked.
“In the garage.”
“And the drive Mr. Mercer requested?”
Reed swallowed.
“I don’t have it.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Not in your pocket. Not in your car.”
“It was destroyed.”
Grace went still.
“When?”
Reed glanced toward the officers.
“This morning.”
The room seemed to tilt.
Months of bank records.
Copies of company agreements.
A recording Luis had made before he contacted Ethan.
Destroyed.
Reed hurried on.
“I was trying to protect you. Some of those files were obtained improperly. Using them could have hurt the company.”
“More than someone changing my brakes?”
“We don’t know that happened.”
“We know you destroyed evidence before the man who supplied it disappeared.”
Shaw asked Reed to come downstairs.
He went without another word.
It wasn’t an arrest.
Ethan knew that.
Still, watching Reed leave beside an officer felt like the first solid thing that had happened all night.
Then Grace crouched near Luis’s overnight bag.
She pointed without touching it.
A small gray envelope protruded from the inside pocket.
Written across it was Ethan’s name.
Hotel security stepped back while Shaw returned and photographed the envelope in place.
Inside was a storage locker key.
A number.
And a folded photograph.
It showed Ethan’s car on a lift.
Beside it stood Nolan.
The date printed in the corner was October 18.
The crash had happened October 19.
On the back, Luis had written:
I signed the repair.
I did not order it.
Ethan released a breath.
Grace leaned close.
“We have something.”
For the first time that night, he nodded.
Then his phone rang.
His bank’s fraud department.
“Mr. Mercer,” the representative said, “we’re calling about a transfer request authorized under your power of attorney.”
“How much?”
“Four million dollars.”
Ethan looked toward the open door.
May you like
Vanessa had not followed them upstairs.
And now he knew why.
