Chapter 12 - The Recording Beneath the Floorboards"Who else did Marcus threaten?"
"That's for the investigators to determine, Mr. Keaton."
"Mrs. Pearl, please."
"Your wife trusted me with something important. This time, I'm going to make sure I handle it properly."
I didn't argue.
A week earlier, I would have demanded the recording.
I would have reminded Mrs. Pearl who paid her salary.
I would have insisted that anything involving my company belonged to me.
Instead, I said:
"Give it to Detective Reed."
"I intend to."
"Please make sure you're somewhere safe."
"I am."
The call ended.
I stood beside the kitchen window, looking at the garden Corinne had loved.
The lavender was beginning to bloom.
She had planted it two springs earlier because she said the bees needed somewhere to rest.
I used to complain that she spent too much time gardening.
Now I would have given anything to watch her kneeling among those flowers again.
The recording reached investigators that afternoon.
Through Nathan, I later learned that it contained part of a conversation involving Marcus and two other voices.
Investigators had not yet confirmed every participant.
But one man appeared to be discussing the movement of money out of Keaton Development before auditors could examine the company.
Another raised concerns about the original Rivergate report.
Marcus responded angrily.
Then he said something particularly disturbing.
Corinne is only a problem because Grant can't control his own household.
When Nathan repeated those words, I felt a wave of nausea.
Marcus had known me for fifteen years.
He knew exactly how I spoke about Corinne when I was frustrated.
He had listened while I complained that she asked too many questions.
He had encouraged me to stop involving her in financial conversations.
And I had mistaken his contempt for friendship.
"There's more," Nathan said.
I looked up.
"What?"
"The recording includes a reference to someone named Adrian Cole."
I frowned.
"Who is that?"
"An environmental engineer."
My thoughts returned immediately to Dr. Foster's missing colleague.
"Is he the man who disappeared?"
Nathan nodded.
"According to the information we've received, yes."
I leaned forward.
"Is he alive?"
"We don't know."
I stared at him.
"Marcus knows?"
"There's no confirmed evidence of what Marcus knows about his location."
Nathan placed his hands on the desk.
"But investigators are treating his disappearance seriously."
I remembered the warehouse.
The contaminated soil.
The children living nearby.
If Adrian Cole had evidence that the property was dangerous, his disappearance could be connected to far more than financial misconduct.
That evening, I opened an old folder of company photographs.
Adrian's name appeared on an attendance sheet from a technical presentation eighteen months earlier.
There were pictures of engineers standing beside soil-testing equipment.
A few showed Marcus shaking hands with consultants.
Then I saw one that made me pause.
Adrian Cole stood near the back of the group.
Beside him was a woman wearing a yellow safety vest.
Dr. Elaine Foster.
I recognized her from a photograph Nathan had shown me.
Behind them was a young field technician with curly hair.
I looked at the caption.
Maya Rios — Environmental Data Specialist
I remembered Maya.
She had attended a meeting in our corporate headquarters several months earlier.
She raised concerns about inconsistencies in groundwater readings.
Marcus interrupted her twice.
When she persisted, I told him to handle the technical questions privately.
I had barely looked at her.
I went through my emails.
After several minutes, I found a message from Maya.
It was dated four months earlier.
Mr. Keaton,
I am concerned that the revised groundwater tables do not accurately reflect our laboratory results. I have requested clarification but have not received supporting documentation.
Because the proposed residential development may affect families living nearby, I believe this requires immediate executive review.
I stared at the screen.
The message had been marked as read.
I remembered seeing it.
I also remembered forwarding it to Marcus with a single instruction.
Please deal with this.
There was no reply.
I had never followed up.
Now I searched for Maya's name in recent company records.
She had resigned six weeks earlier.
Her personnel file stated that she left voluntarily.
But attached to it was a settlement agreement I had never reviewed.
It included a confidentiality provision.
And a payment of $90,000.
I called Nathan.
"I think we need to find a former employee."
"Who?"
"Maya Rios."
I explained the email.
The resignation.
The payment.
Nathan listened.
Then he said:
"Send me the records through the secure channel we've established. Do not contact her yourself."
I agreed.
The following day, investigators learned that Maya had already spoken with Corinne.
That detail stunned me.
Months before she left our house, Corinne had been meeting people whose concerns I had ignored.
People who understood the consequences of my company's decisions.
People who recognized that the wealth I celebrated might have been built partly on concealment.
Then a new message arrived through Nathan.
Detective Reed wanted me to review a photograph to determine whether I recognized a location.
It showed an abandoned maintenance building near the river.
A small concrete structure surrounded by overgrown brush.
I knew it.
Keaton Development had acquired the land years earlier.
The building had once housed equipment for a municipal water-testing station.
I told Nathan immediately.
A few hours later, he called back.
His voice was serious.
"Grant, investigators went to that building."
I stood.
"What did they find?"
"Signs that someone had been staying there recently."
"Adrian?"
"They haven't confirmed that."
I waited.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"They recovered a bloodstained jacket and a damaged phone."
I closed my eyes.
"Was anyone there?"
"No."
Nathan paused.
"But the phone contained a recently saved message."
"From whom?"
"We don't have the full details."
May you like
Then he told me the words that investigators had been able to recover.
If anything happens to me, give Corinne Keaton the original samples.
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