Chapter 12 - The Missing Ledger
Conrad Voss stared at the silver flash drive for exactly three seconds.
Then he laughed.
It was not nervous laughter.
That would have made me feel safer.
Instead, it sounded amused.
“You have no idea what you’re holding,” he said.
“I know enough.”
“Do you?”
He leaned back in his chair.
“Lillian Mercer collected documents without context. Half of those files are privileged. Others were fabricated for internal scenario planning. If you distribute them, my attorneys will bury Rowan-Anchor beneath injunctions before sunset.”
“Then file them.”
The lawyers surrounding him shifted.
He had expected fear.
What he got was exhaustion.
I was tired of being threatened by men who believed paperwork was more frightening than prison.
Conrad’s eyes narrowed.
“You think Samuel saved you.”
“He did.”
“No.”
His voice became quieter.
“Samuel used you.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
“He needed a moral story to justify taking revenge on his son. You were convenient.”
Daniel moved beside me, but I lifted a hand.
I wanted Conrad talking.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Samuel knew about Rowan-Anchor years before your divorce. If he truly loved you like a daughter, why didn’t he warn you?”
That was the same question I had asked Arthur.
Conrad saw the hesitation.
His smile returned.
“Because Samuel cared more about building a criminal case than protecting you.”
“Maybe.”
I took my seat.
“But he eventually chose a side.”
Conrad’s expression hardened.
“Yes. And now he’s dead.”
The room went still.
Arthur’s attorney, seated two chairs away, slowly lowered his pen.
Conrad realized the implication immediately.
He shrugged.
“Old men die.”
“So do corporations,” I replied. “Especially corporations whose secret architects are about to be subpoenaed.”
I stood.
“This meeting is over.”
One of the creditor lawyers cleared his throat.
“Miss Rowan, there is still the issue of the eighteen-million-dollar obligation.”
“There is no obligation.”
“The authorization carries your signature.”
“It’s forged.”
“We’ll let a court decide.”
“No.”
I looked around the room.
“The FBI will.”
That ended the conversation.
Outside, Daniel caught up with me near the elevators.
“You pushed him.”
“I wanted to see if he’d push back.”
“He did more than that.”
“What?”
“He threatened you.”
“Conrad threatens everybody.”
“No. He reminded you Samuel is dead.”
Daniel pressed the elevator button.
“That wasn’t business language.”
The doors opened.
Arthur was waiting inside.
His face looked grave.
“We have another problem.”
Of course we did.
“What now?”
“Samuel’s investigation references something called Ledger Twelve.”
“I saw ledger files on the drives.”
“Not this one.”
Arthur lowered his voice as the elevator descended.
“According to Samuel’s notes, Ledger Twelve documented payments made outside Whitlock Maritime’s ordinary accounts. Judges. Inspectors. Customs intermediaries. Private investigators.”
“Bribes.”
“Possibly.”
“Where is it?”
“That is the problem.”
Arthur looked at me.
“Samuel said he gave it to someone he trusted.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t write the name.”
Daniel frowned.
“Then how do we find them?”
Arthur removed a folded copy of Samuel’s handwritten note.
At the bottom was a single sentence.
When the harbor goes dark, ask the man who kept the light.
I read it twice.
“Does that mean anything to you?”
Arthur shook his head.
Daniel didn’t.
He took the paper.
“Maybe.”
“You recognize it?”
“Samuel funded lighthouse preservation projects along the New England coast.”
“So?”
“So one project wasn’t charitable.”
He looked at me.
“Twenty years ago, Whitlock Maritime bought an abandoned lighthouse property outside New London. Samuel restored the keeper’s cottage and let somebody live there.”
“Who?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Thomas Bell.”
Arthur inhaled sharply.
“You know him?”
“I know the name.”
Arthur looked almost stunned.
“Thomas Bell was Whitlock Maritime’s chief accountant before Conrad Voss arrived.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared.”
The elevator doors opened into the lobby.
Arthur continued.
“Officially, he resigned after being accused of stealing six hundred thousand dollars.”
Daniel gave him a grim look.
“And if Conrad framed him?”
Nobody answered.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then something in me said not to.
“Hello?”
A weak male voice answered.
“Is this Emily Rowan?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Thomas Bell.”
I stopped walking.
Arthur and Daniel turned toward me.
Thomas breathed heavily.
“I was told Samuel was dead.”
“He is.”
Another pause.
Then the old man whispered:
“If Conrad Voss knows you have Lillian’s files, you don’t have much time.”
“Time for what?”
“To find me.”
The line crackled.
“And Emily?”
“Yes?”
May you like
“Come alone.”
Then the call ended.
