Chapter 6 - The Vendor with No Employees

Talia had been hired through a catering agency to work the rehearsal. Her father cleaned rooms at Whitcomb House. If her name appeared in a dispute, she feared the estate would fire him. I promised only that I would keep her identity out of any public statement; I couldn't promise she would never need to speak to investigators.

"You deserve the truth," I told her. "And you deserve to know the risk."

She nodded and opened her phone. The first clip showed my father leaving the carriage suite with Frances Bell. Frances held a clipboard. Dad carried a folded paper labeled ATLANTIC HARBOR RELOCATION. They stopped beneath a light and argued.

"I heard them say the money couldn't go straight to Cole Construction," Talia said. "So they used a lodging account."

Ira joined us by speakerphone and asked Talia to describe only what she'd witnessed. He explained the difference between an invoice's name and the true owner of the receiving account. "Atlantic Harbor Relocation may be a real entity," he said, "but we're going to check whether it actually provided anything."

Talia played the next clip. My mother stood in the same hall holding my dark work tablet. Sloane reached for it.

"Merritt always locks her stuff," Sloane said on the recording.

"I know her birthday," my mother answered. "And the backup code is in her old emergency folder."

The video ended when a guest passed between Talia and the camera. I stared at the black screen. Last Thanksgiving Mom had insisted I leave my emergency records with her in case I got sick on a deployment. I had given her the folder because she had called me paranoid for refusing.

"Why did you film this?" Nia asked gently.

"Because they told me to stay out of that hallway. Then your sister asked whether the security cameras were pointed toward the stairs."

I felt the room tilt. "Before she pushed me?"

Talia nodded. "Almost an hour before."

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Ira's voice sharpened. "Merritt, I just checked the entity registration. Atlantic Harbor Relocation's mailing address is your father's old warehouse. But the registered manager isn't your father."

He let the silence settle before adding, "It's Sloane."