Chapter 6 - Eleven Minutes Before the Fire
Detective Ortiz kicked open a side window before the flames reached the rear wall.
“OUT!”
Smoke filled the storage building.
Nora climbed through first.
Ethan followed.
Claire shoved the waterproof case into his arms.
“Take this!”
Ortiz pulled Claire through the window just as fire raced across the floor.
Outside, an engine roared.
A gray pickup truck tore away from the marina.
Ortiz fired once at a rear tire.
Missed.
The truck disappeared through the gate.
The fire consumed Storage Building 3 within minutes.
But the evidence survived.
Michael had placed almost everything inside a sealed marine case designed to survive water and heat.
At the police station, forensic accountants began examining the ledger.
The forty million dollars Michael suspected was no longer forty million.
It had grown.
Over thirteen years, companies connected to Richard had siphoned approximately $68 million.
But the money alone didn’t explain Claire’s coffin.
Then investigators opened a folder marked E.M.S.
Evergreen Memorial Services.
Inside were four names.
Michael Parker.
Marjorie Bell.
Aaron Whitcomb.
Claire Parker.
All four had been connected to estates managed by Parker Meridian.
Three were legally dead.
Claire was the fourth.
Nora stared at the list.
“Who are Bell and Whitcomb?”
Ortiz searched.
Marjorie Bell had died six years earlier.
Heart failure.
Dr. Owen Kessler had signed the certificate.
Evergreen Memorial handled the funeral.
Her estate had sold a commercial property to a company controlled by Richard eleven days later.
Aaron Whitcomb had died four years earlier.
Stroke.
Kessler had signed that death certificate too.
Evergreen handled the funeral.
His shares in a Parker Meridian subsidiary had transferred to Charles Wynn.
Ortiz leaned back.
“This isn’t one attempted murder.”
Claire looked at the names.
“They built a system.”
The room went silent.
Ethan looked at his father’s name.
“Was Dad buried by Evergreen?”
Claire shook her head.
“No. His body was never recovered.”
Ortiz looked at Michael’s ledger.
“Maybe that was the first version.”
Claire understood.
Richard had evolved.
Michael had died in a way that looked accidental.
No body.
No inconvenient forensic examination.
But after Michael, Richard had access to a doctor.
A funeral director.
Corporate signatures.
Death certificates.
Estate transfers.
Burials.
“He learned how to make death official,” Nora whispered.
At 4:40 that afternoon, police finally found Charles Wynn.
Alive.
He had checked into a roadside motel under a false name.
Ortiz interviewed him personally.
Charles looked twenty years older than he had at Claire’s last Christmas party.
“I didn’t know Claire was alive.”
Ortiz placed the burial authorization in front of him.
“You signed this.”
“I told her. Richard said it was administrative.”
“You also received shares after Aaron Whitcomb died.”
Charles stared at the table.
“Richard arranged that.”
“Did you question why?”
“I didn’t want to know.”
“That’s not the same as innocence.”
Charles rubbed both hands over his face.
“He had something on me.”
“What?”
“Company funds.”
“You stole?”
“Twelve years ago. I covered losses in one division by moving money temporarily.”
“How much?”
“Two million.”
“Temporarily?”
“I repaid most of it.”
“Richard found out.”
“Yes.”
“And blackmailed you.”
Charles nodded.
“At first he wanted signatures. Then introductions. Then access to accounts.”
“Did you help kill Michael Parker?”
“No.”
“Marjorie Bell?”
“No.”
“Aaron Whitcomb?”
“No.”
“Claire?”
“I swear I believed she died.”
Ortiz watched him carefully.
“Where is Richard?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then tell me something useful.”
Charles looked toward the mirror.
“He’s trying to close a transaction.”
“What transaction?”
“Parker Meridian owns thirty-eight acres outside Annapolis.”
Claire knew the property.
Harbor Point.
Her father had refused to sell it for years.
Charles continued.
“A buyer offered $120 million.”
“That property isn’t worth $120 million,” Claire said later when Ortiz told her.
Exactly.
Which meant the land wasn’t what the buyer wanted.
Investigators checked the purchasing company.
Blackthorn Development.
Six layers of shell corporations.
The final beneficiary was hidden overseas.
But a draft contract contained a clause that changed everything.
If Claire Parker died, voting control of her shares transferred temporarily to her spouse until Ethan reached adulthood or a probate court appointed a trustee.
Richard had designed the coffin to create a legal window.
Claire wouldn’t only be dead.
He would control Parker Meridian.
And at 9:00 a.m. Monday morning, the board was scheduled to vote on the Harbor Point sale.
Claire looked at the clock.
Thirty-eight hours.
“That’s why he didn’t just kill me.”
Nora nodded.
“He needed your death registered before the vote.”
Ortiz added:
“And he needed your body underground before anyone discovered the mistake.”
Ethan stared at the $120 million figure.
“What’s under Harbor Point?”
No one knew.
Until Nora found Michael’s final handwritten note.
May you like
HARBOUR POINT IS NOT ABOUT LAND.
LOOK UNDER THE EAST WAREHOUSE.
