Chapter 9 - The Report That Never ExistedThe envelope from Baystone Environmental Consulting contained seven pages.
Rebecca Shaw had contacted the company after discovering its name on the Mercer Cove proposal.
She wanted confirmation that Baystone had prepared the remediation estimate attributed to it.
The response was devastating.
Baystone's general counsel stated that the company had never conducted an environmental assessment of Mercer Cove.
The project number shown on the purported report belonged to an unrelated commercial property in Delaware.
The signature attributed to Baystone's senior engineer was not genuine.
And the four-million-dollar estimate had not been issued by the company.
Adrian read the letter twice.
Then he placed it on Rebecca's desk.
“So someone invented an environmental problem.”
“That appears to be the case,” Rebecca answered.
“To reduce the value of the property?”
“That's one possible purpose.”
Tessa sat opposite them, holding a binder containing Mara's original environmental research.
“It's worse than that,” she said.
She opened the binder.
Inside were photographs, water-quality tables, habitat surveys, and handwritten observations spanning almost a decade.
Mara had documented the wildlife at Mercer Cove with the obsessive care of someone who loved both science and the place itself.
“These are baseline studies,” Tessa explained. “Some were incorporated into work published through her university research group. Later monitoring continued under a separate conservation grant.”
Adrian turned a page.
A photograph showed Mara standing knee-deep in marsh grass, smiling beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
He remembered taking the picture.
Rosie had not been born yet.
Mara had returned home soaked and laughing because a crab had climbed onto her boot.
Adrian touched the photograph.
For a moment, the room disappeared.
Then Tessa spoke again.
“The last independent assessment was eighteen months before Mara died. It identified localized erosion along the western bank. Nothing resembling a four-million-dollar contamination problem.”
Marcus Bell, attending by video, nodded.
“We'll need updated testing. But the false attribution to Baystone is already significant.”
Adrian looked toward the screen.
“Can I stop the transaction?”
“As trustee, you can refuse to sign,” Marcus replied. “And Tessa has not consented. Based on what we've seen, there is no valid approval for the proposed disposition. We should formally notify the interested parties and seek relief if anyone asserts that the forged consent is binding.”
“Then why would Graham send me the documents?”
“Because the transaction may have been structured to create leverage before its defects were discovered.”
Rebecca added, “Or he believed you would sign without examining the attachments.”
Adrian felt sick.
How many times had he signed documents prepared by Graham?
How often had he trusted a familiar name instead of reading everything?
He thought of his daughter waiting by the window.
He thought of Naomi trying to speak to him.
He thought of Celeste telling him nothing was wrong.
Different betrayals.
The same weakness.
He had surrendered attention to people who seemed willing to take responsibility for him.
Tessa closed the binder.
“Mara always said you trusted people until they gave you a reason not to.”
Adrian smiled without humor.
“She said I needed a suspicious bone in my body.”
“She loved that about you.”
“Not today.”
Tessa's expression softened.
“No. Today she'd want you to become more careful.”
That afternoon, Marcus arranged for an independent environmental consultant to visit Mercer Cove, with proper permission from the trust.
The new assessment would require field sampling, review of historical records, and a written report.
It would not be immediate.
But Adrian no longer cared how long it took to uncover the truth.
At four thirty, he received an unexpected call from an unfamiliar number.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Paige Lowell. I work in Whitmore Marine's accounting department.”
Adrian recognized the name.
Paige was twenty-eight and had joined the company three years earlier.
“Is everything all right?”
A pause.
“I don't know how to say this.”
“Start wherever you need to.”
“I think someone has been moving money through accounts that don't make sense.”
Adrian stood.
“What accounts?”
“Vendor payments. Advisory fees. Some invoices charged to coastal development projects.”
“Have you told Graham?”
Her voice shook.
“That's the problem.”
Adrian felt cold.
“What do you mean?”
“He approved them.”
“Paige, have you altered anything?”
“No. I haven't touched the original records. I made a list of transaction numbers and dates.”
“Good. Don't investigate on your own. I'll connect you with independent counsel.”
She hesitated.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars went to a company called Hart Advisory.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
Celeste's maiden name was Hart.
Paige continued.
“And I found another set of payments to a company I don't recognize.”
“What's it called?”
“North Quay Strategic Partners.”
Adrian waited.
Paige lowered her voice.
“Mr. Whitmore, the invoices say the work was approved by Graham Sloane. But the bank details lead to an account used by one of his former business associates.”
Adrian stared out the window.
The conspiracy was no longer just about an access road.
May you like
Money had already moved.
And the man overseeing the company's finances appeared to be standing in the middle of it.
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