Chapter 18 - Grant Sterling’s Final Secret
The last person I wanted to see again was Grant Sterling.
Which was exactly why I knew I had to.
ADX Florence did not permit dramatic entrances.
There were no reporters.
No polished courtroom benches.
No screaming families.
Only concrete, steel, locked doors, and silence.
Grant entered the secure interview room wearing prison clothes.
He looked fifteen years older than the last time I saw him.
His face had thinned.
His shoulders had collapsed.
But when he saw me, something flickered in his eyes.
Hope.
That disgusted me more than hatred would have.
“Rosalind.”
I remained standing.
“This is not a social visit.”
“I knew you’d come eventually.”
“You knew nothing.”
He smiled faintly.
“Malcolm came back.”
That stopped me.
Grant leaned forward.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That little change in your face when you realize I still know something you don’t.”
I sat.
“You have ten minutes.”
He laughed.
“You always did sound like Walter when you were angry.”
“Do not say his name casually.”
His smile vanished.
“What do you want?”
“Everything about Malcolm Reeve.”
Grant looked toward the camera.
“What do I get?”
“Nothing.”
“Then we’re done.”
I stood.
He panicked.
“Wait.”
I paused.
Grant had spent his entire life believing every conversation was a transaction.
Prison had apparently taught him that some people truly had nothing left to sell.
“He funded me,” Grant said.
“I know.”
“He found me after my first company collapsed. Paid my debts.”
“In exchange for access to Whitmore.”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Grant looked down.
“He wanted Walter humiliated.”
“Why?”
“Because Walter made him feel small.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
Men had killed for less.
“Did Malcolm order Tessa’s murder?”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Did he know?”
“After.”
“Did he help cover it?”
Silence.
I leaned closer.
“Grant.”
“He gave me the money.”
“For the concrete contractor?”
Grant nodded.
“He said if I ever got caught, he’d deny everything.”
“Why didn’t prosecutors find this?”
“Because I kept a separate ledger.”
“The flash drive Savannah had.”
His eyes widened.
“She still had that?”
“Not anymore.”
“Malcolm?”
“Yes.”
Grant swore.
“What else was on it?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
He looked genuinely frightened.
“There was a recording.”
“Of?”
“Malcolm.”
My pulse quickened.
“When?”
“Two weeks before Walter died.”
“What did he say?”
Grant looked toward the camera again.
“I need protection.”
“You’re in the most secure prison in America.”
“You don’t know him.”
“I know enough.”
“No, you don’t!”
His voice cracked.
A guard shifted outside.
Grant lowered his tone.
“Malcolm doesn’t threaten people directly. He finds whatever they love and turns it into leverage.”
“What did he threaten you with?”
“Tessa.”
“She was already dead.”
“He knew where she was buried. He had photographs. Payments. Everything.”
“So he blackmailed you.”
“For years.”
I felt no sympathy.
Grant had murdered Tessa.
He was not a victim because another monster frightened him.
“What was on the recording?”
Grant closed his eyes.
“He told me Walter would never stop investigating us.”
“Us?”
“Our laundering network.”
My stomach tightened.
“How large?”
“Hundreds of millions.”
“Through Whitmore?”
“Not originally. Through shipping vendors. When I married you, Malcolm saw an opportunity to move bigger amounts.”
“And Dad discovered it.”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did Malcolm say?”
Grant looked at me.
“He said, ‘If Walter dies, the company becomes vulnerable. If Rosalind falls with him, it becomes ours.’”
There it was.
Intent.
Conspiracy.
Possibly enough to change the federal case.
“Where is the recording?”
Grant smiled weakly.
“Not on the flash drive.”
I stared at him.
“I wasn’t stupid enough to keep everything in one place.”
“You murdered two people and thought you could inherit a trust clause you never read.”
His smile disappeared.
“Where is it?”
“An old safety deposit box.”
“Bank?”
“Not a bank.”
He whispered the location.
A private document-storage company in Newark.
The account was under Tessa Marlow’s maiden name.
Grant had used the identity of the woman he murdered to hide evidence against the man blackmailing him.
The depravity of it left me momentarily speechless.
“Code?”
He gave me six digits.
“Why tell me now?”
His eyes filled with something ugly and desperate.
“Because Malcolm promised me I’d never go to prison.”
I stood.
“You went to prison because you murdered innocent people.”
“He used me.”
“You used everyone.”
I walked toward the door.
“Rosalind.”
I stopped without turning around.
“If you destroy him…”
I waited.
Grant’s voice became bitter.
“Tell him I helped.”
I finally looked back.
“No.”
His face twisted.
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t get a redemption story.”
I opened the door.
“Tessa gets justice. My father gets justice. Savannah and her child get a future.”
I met Grant’s eyes one last time.
“You get exactly what the court gave you.”
The steel door closed behind me.
Three hours later, federal agents opened the Newark box.
Inside was a digital recorder.
One audio file remained.
Malcolm Reeve’s voice came through clearly.
And then Grant’s.
The conversation lasted seventeen minutes.
By minute four, Malcolm had discussed Walter’s death.
By minute nine, he had discussed framing me.
By minute thirteen, he had made one fatal statement.
“Once Rosalind is convicted, I want Whitmore broken apart piece by piece.”
May you like
For fifteen years, Malcolm had been waiting to destroy my father.
Now I finally had proof.
