Chapter 4 - Seven Minutes
Cole Maritime Technologies didn't manufacture ships.
It manufactured certainty.
Navigation software.
Collision prediction.
Port logistics.
Systems designed around the idea that accidents usually had histories.
Adrian had built his career studying those histories.
Seven minutes was a history.
At nine that morning, sitting in a hospital family room with cold coffee in his hand, Adrian called his chief security officer.
Nolan Briggs answered on the second ring.
"Tell me you slept."
"No."
"Then I'm not going to ask how you are."
"Good."
"What do you need?"
"The yacht's camera logs."
A pause.
"Police have them."
"I want the admin logs."
Another pause.
"That yacht is personally owned, Adrian. I don't have access unless you authorize—"
"I'm authorizing."
"Send it in writing."
Adrian did.
Twenty minutes later, Nolan called back.
"Interesting."
"I hate when you say that."
"The bow camera didn't fail."
Adrian stood.
"It was disabled?"
"Manual privacy mode."
"From where?"
"The owner app."
"My phone was inside."
"Your account supports household delegates."
Adrian already knew the answer.
"Corinne."
"Her device was provisioned six months ago."
"What time?"
"Camera privacy mode enabled at 10:42 p.m."
Lila went over at 10:49.
Seven minutes.
Adrian gripped the edge of the table.
"Can you tell who tapped it?"
"Not definitively without the phone. The server logs show her credential token."
"Could someone else have used it?"
"Yes."
"You sound unconvinced."
"I sound like somebody who doesn't testify beyond the data."
Despite himself, Adrian almost smiled.
"That's why I pay you."
"You pay me because you ignore my advice and need somebody to document it."
"That too."
Nolan's voice became quieter.
"What happened out there?"
Adrian stared at the floor.
"My daughter says Corinne pushed her."
Silence.
Then:
"I'm coming to Miami."
At noon, Corinne's attorney released a statement asking the public to respect the family's privacy.
Adrian hadn't authorized it.
He called her.
She answered immediately.
"Thank God."
"Why did your lawyer issue a statement?"
"Because reporters are calling."
"You didn't ask me."
"I was protecting us."
"There is no us right now."
Silence.
"Adrian."
"Did you disable the bow camera?"
"What?"
"Seven minutes before Lila went over."
"Of course not."
"Your credential did."
"Then someone used my phone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Where was it?"
"In my bag."
"Where?"
"Near the loungers."
"With Sloane, Tessa and Brooke."
"Exactly."
Adrian frowned.
Corinne had answered too fast.
"So now you're accusing your friends?"
"I'm saying you're determined to accuse me."
"My daughter accused you."
"Your daughter repeats things."
"From whom?"
"I don't know. Camille hates me."
"Camille wasn't on the yacht."
"She doesn't have to be. Kids absorb attitudes."
Adrian stared out the hospital window.
Traffic moved fourteen floors below.
"Corinne."
"What?"
"Why did Lila's toy get moved?"
Silence.
"Moved where?"
"Under your chair."
"I have no idea."
"Interesting."
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Talking like I'm one of your employees."
"My employees don't usually get accused of trying to kill my child."
Her breath caught.
There it was.
The word neither of them had said.
Kill.
"That's sick," she whispered.
"Is it?"
"You think I wanted her dead?"
"I don't know what to think."
"You know me."
Adrian closed his eyes.
"No."
It came out before he could stop it.
Corinne didn't respond.
And that frightened him more than if she'd shouted.
Finally she said, "You should be very careful what you destroy because you're scared."
Again.
Careful.
Destroy.
The same language she'd used on the yacht.
Then she hung up.
Ruiz arrived thirty minutes later with a warrant request for Corinne's phone records and yacht app logs.
Adrian showed her the anonymous texts.
She photographed the screen.
"Halcyon Capital," she said. "The investment firm?"
"They've been trying to buy a strategic position in my company for eighteen months."
"Why would that involve your wife?"
"It shouldn't."
"But?"
Adrian sat back.
"Corinne introduced me to their managing partner."
"When?"
"At a charity dinner. Two years ago."
"Before or after you married her?"
Adrian thought about it.
Before.
Four months before.
Ruiz saw his face change.
"You didn't know?"
"I thought they met through Sloane."
"Who's Sloane?"
"One of the women on the yacht."
Ruiz opened her notebook.
"What does she do?"
Adrian's mouth went dry.
"Private wealth consulting."
"And Tessa?"
"Public relations."
"Brooke?"
"Corporate events."
Ruiz looked at him.
"Mr. Cole, those are three useful people if somebody wanted to influence a wealthy executive."
He almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because suddenly every dinner looked different.
Every invitation.
Every introduction.
Every carefully accidental meeting.
His phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
This time, there was a photograph.
A restaurant.
Corinne at a table.
Sloane beside her.
And across from them, Victor Hale, managing partner of Halcyon Capital.
May you like
The date stamp was eight months before Adrian had ever met Corinne.
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