Chapter 8: The Ledger
The hum of the server racks seemed to grow louder, filling the tense silence between Grant and me. I stared at the driver, seeing the exhaustion and fear etched into the fine lines around his eyes. He wasn't a monster; he was simply a man who had chosen a paycheck over his conscience until the weight of it finally broke him.
"Where are the physical backups of the audits?" I asked, my tone leaving no room for argument. "The digital files can be wiped from these servers with a single keystroke from Heath's terminal upstairs."
Grant hesitated, his hand hovering near his pocket. He looked at the bank of monitors, where the live feed of the East Parlor showed Heath standing near the fireplace, swirling amber liquid in a crystal glass, smiling warmly at a local senator. The contrast between the polished public display of philanthropy and the brutal reality locked in the study upstairs made my blood run cold.
"In the wall safe behind the mahogany shelving in the main office," Grant said softly, pulling a heavy brass-and-steel key ring from his trousers and laying it quietly on the metal desk. "The master key to the estate's administrative wing is on here. The security logs for the past three years are on a flash drive taped to the back of the ledger book."
I picked up the key ring, its weight feeling substantial and cold in my palm. "Why are you giving me this now, Grant? What changed?"
Grant looked up, his eyes meeting mine with a grim, exhausted clarity. "Because I watched that little girl climb out of the car. I have a granddaughter back in Ohio who looks just like her. I’m done being the man who closes the trunk, Mr. Vance."
"Good," I said, slipping the keys into my breast pocket. "Because we are going to need more than a car to get them out of here safely before the night is over."
Before Grant could answer, the sharp chime of the internal intercom echoed through the room. Morris’s voice filled the space, flat and unyielding:
May you like
"Mr. Vance. Mr. Heath requests your presence in the East Parlor immediately. Do not keep him waiting."
I exchanged a final, wordless look with Grant, squared my shoulders, and turned toward the door. The time for quiet investigation was over. It was time to face the man at the top.
