Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO DISAPPEAREDGrant found Peter in Mercer Global’s forty-second-floor boardroom overlooking Boston Harbor.
Twelve executives were gathered around the table.
Grant walked in without knocking.
“Everybody out.”
The room went silent.
Peter rose.
“We’re in the middle of—”
“Out.”
Nobody needed a second instruction.
Within thirty seconds, Grant and Peter were alone.
Grant placed Katherine’s letter on the table.
Peter looked down.
His face didn’t change.
That frightened Grant more than panic would have.
“Where did you find this?”
“Katherine’s study.”
Peter sat.
“So now you think I killed her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Grant leaned forward.
“Did you steal from the foundation?”
“No.”
“Did you enter Katherine’s garage locker yesterday?”
Peter hesitated.
“Yes.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“I received an anonymous message telling me there was evidence inside.”
“Evidence of what?”
Peter looked directly at him.
“That Sofia was involved.”
Grant stared at him.
“You expect me to believe someone anonymously told you where to find a watch strap matching surveillance footage that police hadn’t released?”
Peter’s confidence slipped.
Grant saw it.
“Who sent the message?”
“I deleted it.”
“Of course you did.”
Peter stood.
“You are losing perspective.”
“My son almost died.”
“And I have spent my entire adult life protecting this family!”
Peter’s voice echoed through the boardroom.
Grant remained still.
“From what?”
Peter stopped.
The doors opened.
Detective Hart entered.
“I’d like to know too.”
Peter turned sharply.
“You can’t just walk into corporate offices.”
Hart raised an eyebrow.
“Actually, I just did.”
She placed a document on the table.
“Search warrant.”
Peter’s attorney arrived twenty minutes later.
By then investigators were already copying his work computer.
Grant left.
Outside, Sofia was waiting near the elevators.
“What are you doing here?”
“Detective Hart called me.”
“Why?”
“A maintenance employee named Tomas Vega contacted me.”
Grant frowned.
“Tomas?”
“He works nights at the estate.”
“What did he say?”
Sofia held up her phone.
A text message.
I know who changed the ventilation. I’m scared. Don’t tell security. Meet me at the old greenhouse.
Grant’s stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“Did you answer?”
“Yes.”
“No response.”
Grant immediately called Hart.
Within an hour, police vehicles surrounded the abandoned greenhouse at the far edge of the Mercer estate.
They found Tomas’s phone near the entrance.
They did not find Tomas.
Inside, flowerpots had been smashed.
A chair lay overturned.
One wall was streaked with fresh blood.
Sofia covered her mouth.
Grant looked toward Hart.
“He knew something.”
“Apparently somebody knew he knew.”
Then an officer shouted from outside.
They ran.
Behind the greenhouse, tire tracks disappeared toward an old service road.
Beside them lay a torn piece of dark fabric.
Hart picked it up with gloves.
Security uniform.
Sofia stared toward the trees.
“Owen.”
Grant turned.
“What?”
“Tomas told me last week that Owen kept assigning him strange maintenance jobs.”
Grant’s face hardened.
They returned to the house.
Owen Rusk’s office was empty.
His phone sat on the desk.
Computer gone.
Gun safe open.
Grant stared.
The man responsible for protecting his family had vanished.
Then Sofia noticed a paper beneath the desk.
She pulled it out.
A work order.
Three weeks old.
VENTILATION FLOW MODIFICATION — EAST WING.
Authorized by:
O. RUSK.
Grant closed his eyes.
“So Owen did it.”
Hart wasn’t convinced.
“Maybe.”
Grant looked at her.
“You have his signature.”
“I also had Sofia’s badge.”
That stopped him.
Hart pointed toward the bottom of the page.
“Look.”
There was a billing code.
Mercer Global Operations.
Grant recognized it.
He entered the code into his phone.
One division appeared.
Special Projects.
Executive authorization required.
He checked approval history.
One name.
Peter Voss.
Grant felt anger rise like fire.
Then Hart’s radio crackled.
A state trooper had found an abandoned SUV eight miles away.
Owen’s vehicle.
No Owen.
But blood was discovered on the steering wheel.
And in the back seat—
Tomas Vega’s employee jacket.
They raced to the location.
Police dogs searched the woods.
Forty minutes later, one began barking near an old hunting cabin.
Officers rushed inside.
Tomas was on the floor.
Alive.
Barely.
An ambulance team stabilized him.
Grant stood outside as paramedics carried Tomas toward the road.
His eyes opened.
“Tomas?”
Tomas struggled to focus.
“Mr. Mercer…”
“You’re safe.”
Tomas grabbed Grant’s sleeve.
“He made me change the vents.”
“Owen?”
Tomas shook his head weakly.
“Who?”
Tomas tried to speak.
Nothing came.
Grant leaned closer.
“Who ordered it?”
Tomas finally whispered two words.
“Mr. Voss.”
Grant’s blood went cold.
Then Tomas pulled him closer.
“But Peter…”
May you like
His eyes filled with terror.
“…wasn’t alone.”
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