Chapter 13 - The Man Who Knew Too Much
The dead contractor’s name was Owen Price.
Former police officer.
Private security consultant.
Professional fixer.
And, according to his bank records, Richard had paid him $480,000 in eighteen months.
Police found Owen in his garage.
Gunshot wound.
Weapon in his hand.
No note.
Ruiz hated it immediately.
“So convenient.”
Harrison stood outside the yellow tape.
“Check the cameras.”
“Already requested.”
“Phone?”
“Missing.”
“Laptop?”
“Wiped.”
Harrison looked at her.
“That isn’t suicide.”
Ruiz gave him a hard look.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job.”
“Then stop agreeing with me.”
Back at the hospital, Vanessa requested to speak with Harrison.
He refused.
She requested again.
He refused again.
Then her attorney delivered one sentence:
Vanessa knows where Owen Price kept backups.
Harrison went.
Vanessa sat behind thick glass in county detention.
No makeup.
No expensive coat.
No confidence.
“You pushed my sister.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
“She could have died.”
“I know.”
“Her daughter could have died.”
Vanessa began crying.
Harrison didn’t move.
“You want sympathy?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I want to fix what I can.”
“You can’t.”
She swallowed.
“Owen kept insurance.”
“Where?”
“A storage unit.”
“Location?”
“King of Prussia.”
“Number?”
“214.”
“Why do you know?”
“Because Richard made me deliver cash there.”
Harrison leaned forward.
“What was Owen doing for him?”
“Scaring Khloe.”
“And?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“And me.”
Harrison’s eyes narrowed.
“He threatened you?”
“Richard told Owen to follow me after I said I might leave.”
“Why did you shove Khloe?”
Vanessa looked sick.
“I was angry. Terrified. Richard was coming toward us. Khloe was walking away. I grabbed her.”
“You pushed her.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I thought she was taking everything.”
“She was carrying a child.”
Vanessa broke down.
“I know!”
Harrison stared at her.
Then quietly said, “You didn’t lose control because of Khloe. You lost control because Richard taught you everyone was disposable.”
Vanessa cried harder.
An hour later, police opened storage unit 214.
Inside were hard drives.
Cash.
Photographs.
And a sealed envelope labeled:
IF RICHARD HARRINGTON KILLS ME.
Ruiz opened it.
There was a handwritten note.
One sentence.
The proof is in the Riverside elevator footage.
Harrison frowned.
“Riverside doesn’t have elevators yet.”
Ruiz stared at him.
Then Marcus spoke.
“Not Riverside Commons.”
“What?”
He pulled out his phone.
“Riverside Hotel.”
Harrison’s blood ran cold.
May you like
That was where Richard and Vanessa first began their affair.
And where a city inspector had died two years earlier.
