“Which suggests Grant may not be the only person running this.”
At noon, police issued a request to locate Grant for further questioning.
They did not call him a fugitive.
Not yet.
His attorney claimed he was cooperating and temporarily unavailable due to threats against his safety.
Mara returned to company headquarters under security escort.
The Holloway Urban Group building stood on the edge of downtown Bellhaven, six floors of steel, glass, and pale stone.
Grant’s name remained on the entrance.
Employees gathered near windows as Mara arrived.
She expected suspicion.
Instead, dozens met her in the lobby.
Some applauded.
Most did not.
They looked scared.
A project manager named Denise Carter stepped forward.
“Are we getting paid Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Are we losing the Bellhaven contract?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Is the company closing?”
“No.”
Grant’s chief estimator raised his hand.
“Did he sell our planning system to Northstar?”
News traveled quickly.
Mara looked at the gathered employees.
“Evidence suggests he attempted to sell rights he did not own. The matter is under investigation.”
A young assistant near the back began crying quietly.
“My husband was laid off last month. I can’t lose this job.”
Mara walked toward her.
“What’s your name?”
“Kayla.”
“Kayla, payroll is funded. Benefits remain active. No one is being laid off this week.”
“This week?”
“I won’t make promises beyond the facts. I will promise that you’ll hear changes from me before you hear them online.”
The assistant nodded.
Mara turned to everyone.
“We have seventy-two hours to prove this company can continue without the misconduct attached to its former leadership. That means client calls are returned. Plans are reviewed. Deadlines are met. Rumors are not treated as evidence.”
Someone asked, “Who is the former leadership?”
“Grant Holloway has been removed from executive authority.”
A murmur moved through the lobby.
Mara continued.
“Samuel Pike’s board access has been suspended pending investigation.”
That produced a louder reaction.
Employees looked at one another.
Grant had been visible.
Samuel had been trusted.
A senior accountant stepped forward.
“Mara, finance has been locked out of three external accounts.”
“Which accounts?”
“Harbor Light, Meridian Site Solutions, and something called Blue Cedar Municipal Partners.”
Mara had never heard of the third.
“Preserve the access logs. Do not attempt repeated entry. Send everything to forensic review.”
The accountant nodded.
Mara moved toward the elevators.
A voice called from behind her.
“Mrs. Holloway?”
She turned.
A maintenance worker named Calvin stood near the lobby desk. He had worked in the building for six years and rarely spoke during company meetings.
“I saw Mr. Pike here Sunday night,” he said.
“What time?”
“After midnight.”
“Was he alone?”
Calvin hesitated.
“No.”
“Who was with him?”
He looked toward the front doors, as though afraid someone might be watching.
“Your husband’s mother.”
Mara felt the day shift again.
“Patricia?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you certain?”
“I held the elevator for them.”
“What floor?”
“Six.”
Grant’s executive suite.
“Did they carry anything?”
“Mrs. Holloway had a banker’s box.”
Patricia had sat beside Mara in the ballroom hours later and said she knew nothing.
Perhaps that was true.
Perhaps the box contained family records.
Perhaps there was an innocent explanation for a midnight meeting with Samuel Pike days before the contract celebration.
Mara no longer trusted innocent explanations.
She went upstairs.
Grant’s office had already been sealed for forensic review.
Mara entered the conference room across the hall and called Patricia.
No answer.
She called again.
Voicemail.
At 12:46, a text arrived.
I need to explain. Not by phone. Come alone.
An address followed.
It belonged to St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church, where Patricia attended Sunday service.
Lucas read the message over Mara’s shoulder.
“You’re not going alone.”
“She specifically asked me to.”
“That makes me more certain you’re not going alone.”
Mara considered the wording.
Not by phone.
Patricia believed someone might be listening.
“Stay outside the church.”
Lucas did not like it.
“You keep the call open.”
“Fine.”
“And Torres knows where we are.”
“Fine.”
“And if Patricia is not alone, you leave.”
Mara picked up her bag.
“Lucas.”
“What?”
“Thank you.”
His expression softened.
“Don’t thank me for doing what should have been done years ago.”
She knew he did not mean only today.
They drove separately to the church.
St. Matthew’s stood beneath old magnolia trees in a quiet residential neighborhood. Red brick. White columns. A narrow cemetery behind the fellowship hall.
Patricia’s sedan was parked near the side entrance.
Mara called Detective Torres and shared the location.
Then she connected a call with Lucas and placed one earbud beneath her hair.
He remained in his truck across the street.
Mara entered.
The sanctuary smelled of old wood and candle wax.
Colored light fell through stained glass.
Patricia sat in the third pew from the front.
She wore a gray coat despite the summer heat.
Mara approached slowly.
“You wanted to talk.”
Patricia turned.
Her face looked older than it had the night before.
“You brought someone.”
“Someone knows where I am.”
“Good.”
Mara sat at the end of the pew, leaving space between them.
Patricia looked toward the altar.
“I lied to you.”
“I know Samuel met you at the office Sunday night.”
Patricia’s head turned sharply.
“How?”
“Someone saw you.”
She closed her eyes.
“I was trying to protect Grant.”
“From what?”
“From Samuel.”
Mara waited.
Patricia’s fingers tightened around her handbag.
“Three weeks ago, Samuel came to my house. He showed me documents he claimed could send Grant to prison.”
“The Northstar sale?”
“I didn’t understand all of it. He said Grant had transferred technology that belonged to the company and falsified approvals.”
“It belongs to me.”
“I know that now.”
“What did Samuel want?”
“He said the documents could disappear.”
“For money?”
Patricia nodded.
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
Mara felt anger rise but kept it contained.
“Did you pay him?”
“I gave him eight hundred thousand from my retirement accounts. He demanded the rest before Monday.”
“Sunday night, you brought him records?”
“The box contained jewelry and original property deeds. I thought I could borrow against them.”
“Did Grant know?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
Patricia’s laugh was faint and painful.
“Because Samuel said Grant was already planning to leave the country. I thought if I could remove the evidence, Grant might stay and face his responsibilities.”
Mara studied her.
“You believed Grant planned to run?”
“I didn’t know what to believe.”
“What happened Sunday night?”
“I met Samuel in Grant’s office. He took the jewelry. Then he opened Grant’s safe.”
“Do you know the combination?”
“No. Samuel did.”
Mara thought of Samuel’s years on the board.
“What was in the safe?”
“Passports. Cash. Documents.”
“Did you read them?”
“One.”
Patricia opened her handbag and removed a folded sheet of paper.
“I took this when Samuel went to the restroom.”
Mara unfolded it.
It was a beneficiary designation.
A life insurance policy worth twenty-five million dollars.
The insured person was Mara.
The policy owner was Harbor Light Advisory LLC.
The beneficiary was Grant Holloway.
Mara’s skin turned cold.
“I never approved this.”
“I know.”
“When was it issued?”
“Eighteen months ago.”
Patricia’s voice broke.
“I thought it was a mistake. Then I remembered something Grant said.”
Mara kept her eyes on the paper.
“What?”
“Last Thanksgiving. You had the flu and stayed home. Grant drank too much. He said if anything happened to you, at least the company would finally be fully his.”
In Mara’s ear, Lucas said quietly, “Leave now.”
She did not move.
Patricia continued.
“I told him never to speak that way. He laughed and said it was only business.”
Mara looked at the signature.
Another perfect forgery.
“Why wait until now to show me?”
“I was ashamed.”
“That isn’t the whole reason.”
Patricia pressed her lips together.
“No.”
“What else?”
“Samuel called me this morning. He knows I took the page.”
“What did he say?”
“He said if I gave it to police, Grant would die.”
Mara’s gaze sharpened.
“Did he say Grant is with him?”
“No. He said Grant had become a liability.”
That changed the danger.
Grant may have believed he was the architect of the scheme.
Samuel may have used him as the public face.
And Celeste’s role remained unclear.
Mara folded the policy.
“Did Samuel say where he was?”
“He told me to bring the page to the old ferry terminal at six tonight.”