Chapter 7 - MARCUS DISAPPEARED

Police arrived before the pumpkin pie was served.

Nobody touched dessert.

Richard’s attorney, Samantha Price, showed up twenty minutes later wearing jeans, a winter coat, and the expression of someone who had just been dragged into the most expensive Thanksgiving disaster in Connecticut.

She took control immediately.

“No one deletes anything.”

Rachel scoffed.

“I know how investigations work.”

Samantha looked at her.

“That comment did not help you.”

Detectives separated us.

Phones were collected.

Statements began.

Grant told police he knew nothing about either warehouse.

Daniel denied authorizing Carter Resale.

Richard admitted using company credentials in ways that were about to create several uncomfortable conversations with investigators.

Rachel demanded a lawyer.

By midnight, we learned the worst part.

Marcus Lane was gone.

His home was empty.

His company laptop had been wiped.

His car had been found at Bradley International Airport.

Security footage showed him entering the terminal at 4:03 p.m.

No footage showed him boarding a flight.

“He planned this,” Daniel said.

We were sitting in Richard’s study.

The house smelled faintly of turkey and cold coffee.

Thanksgiving decorations still hung above the fireplace.

It felt obscene.

Samantha looked at Rachel.

“When did you last speak to Marcus?”

Rachel’s eyes were red.

“Four thirty.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“That Claire had found Red Creek.”

I stared at her.

“How did he know?”

Rachel looked at me.

“You ran the property search through a Whitmore server.”

My stomach dropped.

Daniel turned.

“Claire?”

“I used my office connection.”

“Marcus monitored internal search traffic,” Rachel said. “He saw it.”

Suddenly everything made sense.

The rush.

The transfers.

The message telling Rachel to move the second property.

Marcus had known the trap was closing.

And he emptied the accounts before Thanksgiving dinner.

Samantha asked, “Did you help him?”

“No.”

“Did you know he was moving money?”

“No!”

Rachel’s voice broke.

“He told me we were moving two million into a reserve account because the lease renewal might draw attention. Not eleven million.”

Grant laughed bitterly.

“So your boyfriend betrayed you.”

She flinched.

“Grant…”

“Don’t.”

He removed his wedding ring.

Placed it on Richard’s desk.

“I’m filing for divorce.”

Rachel stared at it.

“You can’t do this tonight.”

“I think tonight is the perfect night.”

He walked out.

For the first time, Rachel cried.

Not the controlled tears she used when she wanted sympathy.

Ugly tears.

Broken breathing.

Hands shaking.

Part of me almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

Then Samantha’s phone rang.

She listened.

Her expression sharpened.

“Where?”

She hung up.

“Police found Marcus’s passport.”

Rachel looked up.

“Where?”

“Inside the second warehouse.”

Daniel frowned.

“That makes no sense.”

“It gets stranger.”

Samantha looked at me.

“They also found blood.”

My stomach tightened.

“Marcus’s?”

“They don’t know.”

Rachel stopped crying.

Then Samantha added:

“And the warehouse security camera shows someone entering at 6:41 tonight.”

“Who?”

Samantha turned the phone toward us.

The grainy image showed a woman in a dark coat.

Even through the blur, I recognized her.

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