Obsessive.
Precise.
Now Rebecca said, “The codes in your oldest vendor system are not random.”
My mouth went dry.
“What do they say?”
“I don’t know all of it.”
“But you tried.”
“Yes.”
“With Eric.”
Her eyes dropped.
“At first.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So you recruited my husband to investigate my company.”
“No.”
“What would you call it?”
“I recruited him to help identify which clients connected to the old network.”
“And then?”
“He realized what the information might be worth.”
There it was.
Eric.
Not mastermind.
Opportunist.
Somehow that felt exactly right.
“He started copying records,” Rebecca said.
“He thought if he could reconstruct the network, he could sell information to the people implicated in it.”
My stomach turned.
“Blackmail?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed involved.”
“I was trying to figure out who he had contacted.”
“You could have told me.”
“I should have.”
“You could have gone to police.”
“We had no proof.”
“You had my trust.”
Rebecca started crying.
“I know.”
I stood.
She said, “Natalie, wait.”
I stopped.
“There is something else.”
I turned.
“Eric did not choose Marissa randomly.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“She is connected to one of the names in your father’s ledger.”
My chest tightened.
“How?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I don’t know whether she knows.”
“What name?”
Before she could answer, Price opened the door.
“Natalie.”
Something in his voice made me turn immediately.
“What?”
“We need to go.”
“Why?”
“Your house is on fire.”
By the time we reached the property, flames were coming through the roof.
The house Eric had inherited from his father.
The house he had told me was his.
The house he had ordered me to leave.
Firefighters filled the street.
Neighbors stood behind police tape.
Eric was nowhere in sight.
My first thought was not the house.
It was the evidence.
“His devices?”
Price nodded.
“Removed earlier.”
“The office?”
“We seized what we knew about.”
“What about hidden records?”
He looked toward the fire.
“We don’t know.”
A firefighter approached.
“Ms.
Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“We found signs of an accelerant near the study.”
Price’s expression hardened.
“Anyone inside?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
My phone rang.
Marissa.
I answered.
She was crying.
“Natalie.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at my apartment.”
“Where is Eric?”
“I don’t know.”
“He burned the house.”
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
“You sound very sure.”
“Because he called me twenty minutes ago.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was leaving.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else?”
Marissa’s breathing shook.
“He said none of this mattered anymore because he had found what he needed.”
Price was already listening.
“What did he find?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Marissa said something strange.
“He asked me about my mother.”
I frowned.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“What about her?”
“He asked what her maiden name was.”
My heart slowed.
“What is it?”
“Vale.”
I stopped.
Rebecca had been about to tell me Marissa was connected to someone in the ledger.
“Full name.”
“Eleanor Vale.”
Price looked at me.
I said, “Do you know a Samuel Sloan?”
“No.”
“Martin Hayes?”
“No.”
She hesitated.
