“What?”
Marcus was quiet for several seconds.
“Ethan, this needs to be in person.”
“No.”
“I understand how that sounds.”
“Then don’t say it.”
“Your father may have known about the missing money.”
Vivian whispered, “That is a lie.”
Marcus continued.
“I said may.”
Ethan sat down.
His father, Robert Cole, had died of pancreatic cancer four years before Rachel.
Robert had built Cole Development from a two-person contracting company into one of the largest private developers in Connecticut.
Ethan worshipped him.
Everyone did.
Robert was generous.
Calm.
Practical.
The opposite of Vivian’s intensity.
“What evidence?”
“Your father hired an outside auditor six months before he died.”
Ethan frowned.
“I never knew that.”
“Neither did Vivian, apparently.”
She shook her head.
Marcus continued.
“The auditor found irregular transfers from family accounts.”
“Who was the auditor?”
“Samuel Price.”
The name meant nothing.
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
Ethan felt a familiar chill.
“How?”
“Heart attack. Seven years ago.”
“Then how do you know?”
“He left records with his business partner.”
Ethan stood.
“Who was Rachel meeting?”
Marcus took a breath.
“Samuel Price’s daughter.”
Ethan looked at Vivian.
Her expression was blank.
“What did she have?”
“I don’t know. Rachel told me she had something original. A document she didn’t want to scan.”
“Name.”
“Laura Price.”
“Where is she?”
“I haven’t spoken to her since Rachel died.”
“Why?”
“She disappeared.”
Ethan froze.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“Closed her business. Sold her condo. Changed her number.”
“Did police talk to her?”
“I gave them her name.”
Vivian whispered, “No, you didn’t.”
Marcus replied coldly, “I gave it to Detective Harris.”
Ethan remembered Harris.
The lead investigator on Rachel’s accident.
A tired man with kind eyes who had eventually told Ethan there was no evidence of foul play.
“How did the case end?”
Marcus hesitated.
“That’s why I wanted to speak with you in person.”
“Tell me.”
“Detective Harris retired three months after Rachel died.”
“So?”
“He called me before he left.”
Ethan waited.
“He said the accident file had been closed from above him.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who above him?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
Vivian stepped backward.
Ethan noticed.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“I don’t.”
He ended the call without saying goodbye.