Chapter 12 - THE HARBOR POINT FILES
Priscilla was not hurt.
When Gavin reached her apartment, the front door was open.
A lamp had shattered.
Drawers had been pulled out.
The second phone was gone.
Priscilla sat on the floor near the kitchen.
Her hands shook.
“They took it.”
“Who?”
“I never saw his face.”
“You said someone told you to hand over the phone.”
“He wore a cap.”
“That’s it?”
“He knew where everything was.”
Gavin studied her.
“Why should I believe you?”
Priscilla laughed bitterly.
“You shouldn’t.”
That answer surprised him.
She looked around the destroyed apartment.
“I lied to you.”
“Yes.”
“I helped my father.”
“Yes.”
“I helped isolate you from Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I am not lying now.”
Gavin remained silent.
Priscilla looked at him.
“I changed some messages on the backup phone.”
“I know.”
“Marcus told you.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“I removed my own instructions.”
“What instructions?”
She looked ashamed.
“The messages where I suggested how to make Evelyn look unstable.”
Gavin’s jaw tightened.
“So you edited the record to make your father look worse.”
“He was worse.”
“That does not make your lies true.”
“I know.”
Gavin turned away.
Priscilla continued.
“My father built the plan.”
“You helped execute it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She laughed softly.
It was broken.
“Because I spent thirty-four years believing love meant being useful to him.”
Gavin looked back.
Priscilla wiped her face.
“When I was nine, he made me rehearse how to shake hands with donors.”
“When I was fourteen, he told me which girls at school were worth becoming friends with.”
“When I was twenty-two, he ended my relationship because the man had no political value.”
She looked at Gavin.
“And when I met you, he said this was the first thing I had ever done that could secure the Ashford name for another generation.”
Gavin’s expression remained hard.
“That doesn’t excuse what you did.”
“No.”
“I loved you.”
He stared.
“Did you?”
Priscilla cried silently.
“At some point, yes.”
“Which point?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer hurt because it sounded truthful.
She continued.
“I kept the second phone because I knew someday my father might sacrifice me.”
“And now someone stole it.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew you had it?”
“My father.”
“Anyone else?”
Priscilla hesitated.
“Raymond.”
“Raymond who?”
“My father’s chief of staff.”
Gavin remembered the man who had arrived at the penthouse with Charles.
Raymond Cole.
Quiet.
Forty-five.
Former prosecutor.
“What does Raymond know?”
“Everything.”
“More than Marcus?”
“Much more.”
Gavin felt the case shift.
“Was Raymond involved twelve years ago?”
Priscilla looked away.
“Yes.”
“How old was he?”
“Thirty-three.”
“What was he doing?”
“He worked in the state attorney general’s office.”
Gavin stopped.
A prosecutor.
Someone with access to investigations.
Someone who could bury reports.
“R-17.”
Priscilla looked confused.
“What?”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
Her face changed.
Gavin saw it.
“What?”
She whispered—
“Raymond seventeen.”
“What is Raymond seventeen?”
“My father labeled sensitive files by person.”
Gavin’s pulse quickened.
“Seventeen was Raymond?”
“Yes.”
Marcus had assumed R-17 meant Report 17.
It might mean Raymond.
Gavin called Eric.
“Find Raymond Cole.”
Eric answered immediately.
“He left Senator Ashford’s residence forty minutes ago.”
“Where is he now?”
“We don’t know.”
Gavin looked around the apartment.
The stolen phone.
The broken lamp.
The targeted search.
Then he remembered something.
At the penthouse, Charles had brought his chief of staff.
Raymond had stood quietly behind him.
Watching.
Listening.
And when Evelyn mentioned Rosa Bell—
Raymond had been the only person who left the room briefly.
Gavin turned toward Priscilla.
“Did Raymond know Rosa?”
Priscilla went pale.
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
She did.
Then—
“Yes.”
“How?”
“My father once said Raymond handled ‘the Arizona problem.’”
Nora.
Rosa.
Phoenix.
Gavin felt the pieces collide.
He immediately called Nora.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
His stomach dropped.
He called security.
One of the guards answered.
“Mr. Roberson?”
“Where’s Nora?”
“At the apartment.”
“Put her on.”
Pause.
Then—
“She isn’t here.”
Gavin froze.
“What?”
“The back bedroom window is open.”
His voice hardened.
“Where is Taylor?”
Another pause.
“Taylor is here.”
Relief.
Then terror again.
“Where did Nora go?”
“We don’t know.”
Gavin turned toward Priscilla.
On the kitchen counter, her laptop suddenly chimed.
An email had arrived.
No sender name.
Subject line:
HARBOR POINT FILES.
Gavin opened it.
One sentence.
IF YOU WANT NORA BELL ALIVE, BRING ROSA’S LEDGER TO PIER 17.
ALONE.
And beneath the message was a photograph taken less than ten minutes earlier.
Nora.
May you like
Standing beside a black SUV.
Raymond Cole behind her.
