Chapter 17 - The First Victim
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The silence in the office was suffocating.
"Died?" Vivian repeated, her lawyer's facade finally cracking completely. "How?"
"A car accident," Hale replied.
I looked down at the highlighted topological maps of Aspen scattered across Ryan’s desk. The red circles over the cliff edges seemed to glow like wet blood.
"Where did she die, Agent Hale?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Hale met my eyes. "On a mountain road outside of Aspen, Colorado. Local police ruled it a tragic loss of control due to black ice. The vehicle went over a guardrail."
I stumbled backward, hitting the doorframe to keep myself upright. Natalie Pierce wasn't just a crossed-out name on a piece of paper. She was my predecessor. She was the trial run.
Ryan had perfected his method with Natalie. He learned how to manipulate the insurance, how to stage the accident, and how to walk away clean. And then, he and Grant had targeted me for the big score. Ten million dollars.
"Did he get an insurance payout for Natalie?" Vivian asked, her voice trembling with fury.
"We're looking into it right now, but I guarantee you he did," Hale said. "These people aren't just con artists, Mrs. Bennett. You married into a syndicate. A family of black widows."
Suddenly, a sharp, electronic trill pierced the room.
We all jumped.
It was coming from the desk. One of the cheap, plastic burner phones Hale had pulled from the safe was vibrating against the mahogany wood.
The screen glowed. Unknown Caller.
Nobody moved.
"Agent Hale," I whispered. "Answer it."
Hale picked up a pen, using the tip to press the speakerphone button. He didn't say a word. He just let the silence stretch over the line.
For ten seconds, there was nothing but faint, static-laced breathing on the other end.
Then, a man's voice spoke. It wasn't Ryan. It wasn't Grant. It was an older, refined, terrifyingly calm voice.
"Grant?" the voice asked.
Hale remained perfectly silent, signaling for Vivian and me to hold our breath.
"You were supposed to handle the Claire situation last night," the voice continued, laced with a dangerous edge. "I warned you about letting her get suspicious."
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I stared at the phone. Who was this? Who could possibly be giving orders to Grant Bennett?
The man on the line sighed, a sound of profound disappointment. "Clean up this mess immediately, Grant. Because if Claire finds out that Ryan isn't your son, the entire operation goes down. And I will not let you take me down with you."
