Chapter 11 - The Man Who Kept the Books
Graham met Owen in a church parking lot.
Not because either man was religious.
Because Owen believed Colin would never expect it.
“You’re paranoid,” Graham said.
Owen looked exhausted.
“You should be too.”
He handed Graham a flash drive.
“What is this?”
“Copies of Harbor Point escrow records.”
“Why didn’t you give them to investigators fourteen years ago?”
“Because I was twenty-nine, newly married, and terrified.”
Graham laughed bitterly.
“Fear. Everyone’s favorite defense.”
Owen accepted the insult.
“I processed transfers because Richard told me they were legitimate.”
“To Colin’s company?”
“I didn’t know Colin owned it.”
“When did you learn?”
“After Elias was arrested.”
“And you stayed silent.”
“Yes.”
“Then you helped Colin for years.”
“Yes.”
Graham stared at him.
“Why should I trust anything you say?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Owen looked toward the road.
“But you should trust numbers.”
The flash drive contained transaction histories showing Colin had received millions through consulting entities.
More importantly, it showed something Richard’s letter hinted at.
Several transfers had gone back into Whitaker Holdings after the theft.
Richard had quietly replaced part of what Colin stole using unrelated company funds.
That made the accounting trail appear even more like Elias had manipulated accounts.
“Richard manufactured the pattern,” Graham said.
Owen nodded.
“He thought he was containing the damage.”
“He manufactured evidence.”
“Yes.”
Graham looked away.
Owen continued.
“The original escrow ledger proves it.”
“Where is it?”
Owen smiled sadly.
“I was hoping you knew.”
“Richard said you did.”
“I knew where it was kept.”
“Past tense?”
“In a records room at Harbor Point.”
“Then get it.”
“The room was emptied thirteen years ago.”
“By who?”
“Colin’s office.”
Graham’s hope faded.
Owen leaned closer.
“But the accounting firm scanned everything before destruction.”
“Which firm?”
“Keene & Larson.”
Nora’s old employer.
Graham frowned.
“Nora never mentioned scans.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know.”
“Or she’s hiding something.”
Owen’s phone buzzed.
He looked at it and went pale.
“What?”
A text message.
YOUR WIFE IS WAITING.
Graham looked up.
“Your wife?”
Owen’s hands shook.
“She’s at our house.”
“Call her.”
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then a photograph arrived.
Owen’s wife, Rebecca, standing outside a grocery store earlier that morning.
Not harmed.
Watched.
Graham said, “Go to the police.”
Owen shook his head.
“Colin owns too many people.”
“He does not own the Connecticut State Police.”
“You don’t know what your family owns.”
Graham grabbed his shoulder.
“Stop talking like this is a movie. Go to the police.”
Owen stared at him.
Then nodded.
They drove separately.
Before Owen reached the station, his car disappeared from Graham’s rearview mirror.
Graham called.
No answer.
He turned around.
Two miles back, Owen’s vehicle sat abandoned at a gas station.
Door open.
Keys inside.
No sign of Owen.
The police treated it as a missing-person case.
There was no evidence of violence.
But Owen’s flash drive was still in Graham’s pocket.
That night, Marcus examined the metadata.
“These files were copied yesterday.”
“By Owen?”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
Marcus pointed.
A Whitaker Holdings server.
Graham frowned.
“That server archives deleted material.”
Marcus nodded.
“Which means someone at the company knew Owen was searching.”
Vivian whispered, “Colin.”
“Maybe.”
Marcus opened another file.
A login history.
Owen had downloaded the escrow data at 2:13 a.m.
A second user had accessed the same archive twelve minutes later.
Graham read the username.
GWHITAKER.
His own credentials.
He stared.
“I was asleep.”
Vivian looked at him.
“Someone is using your account.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Not remotely.”
“What does that mean?”
“The login came from your office.”
Graham felt cold.
Someone had been inside his locked executive office at two in the morning.
Using his identity.
Just as someone had forged his signature years earlier.
May you like
The pattern had never stopped.
It had simply moved to him.
