CHAPTER SIX Ashes on the Kitchen Floor
The fire destroyed two ovens, half the electrical system, and the back wall of the kitchen.
It did not destroy Carter’s Table.
By sunrise, my employees were sweeping ash from the dining room.
Luis salvaged the cast-iron skillets.
Our waitress, Denise, cleaned soot from the coffee mugs.
Customers stood outside with plywood, tools, and boxes of supplies.
Grant had expected fear.
Instead, he gave the neighborhood a reason to remember what the diner meant to them.
A local television crew arrived before noon.
I refused to stand in front of the burned kitchen and cry for the cameras.
I stood beside Hannah.
“The fire is being investigated,” I said. “We will not accuse anyone without evidence. But we will not be intimidated.”
Grant released another statement denying involvement.
He blamed “radical activists” who opposed the merger.
Margaret appeared at a charity luncheon that afternoon and told reporters she was praying for me.
I nearly admired the cruelty of it.
Rebecca called us into the diner office.
“The security badge belonged to Nolan Briggs,” she said.
“Who is he?” Hannah asked.
“Holloway’s head of corporate security.”
“I know him,” Hannah whispered. “He works directly for Margaret.”
Police had questioned Nolan.
He claimed his badge had been stolen weeks earlier.
He also claimed the company SUV had disappeared from a repair garage.
Both explanations were possible.
Neither was convincing.
“We need evidence connecting Margaret or Grant to the fire,” Rebecca said.
Hannah stared through the office window toward the burned kitchen.
“There might be evidence inside the mansion.”
“What kind?”
“Grant kept a safe in his study. He thought I didn’t know the code.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“You cannot return there alone.”
“I don’t want to return.”
“But?”
Hannah rubbed her hands together.
“The night before Mom found me, Grant was drunk. He was talking to Nolan. They mentioned payments, inspectors, and a second accounting system.”
“Did you see what was in the safe?”
“No. But Grant opened it in front of me once. There were flash drives and a black ledger.”
I thought about Samuel’s missing shareholder ledger.
“What did the book look like?”
“Old. Leather cover. Cracked along the spine.”
Martin Bell had described the original company ledger the same way.
Rebecca requested a police-supervised civil standby so Hannah could retrieve her personal property.
Margaret objected.
The court approved it anyway.
The following afternoon, we returned to the mansion.
The white Persian rug was gone.
The living room had been cleaned.
The sofa had been moved.
Every sign of what happened had vanished.
Grant watched from the staircase while Hannah packed clothes under an officer’s supervision.
“You could still stop this,” he said to her.
Hannah did not look at him.
Margaret stood near the study door.
“That room contains corporate property.”
Rebecca held up the court order.
“Hannah is permitted to retrieve personal belongings.”
The safe was empty.
No flash drives.
No ledger.
Nothing.
Grant smiled from the hallway.
“Looking for something?”
Hannah closed the safe.
“No.”
We went upstairs.
In the bedroom, she opened a box containing her preserved wedding gown.
Grant laughed softly.
“Taking the dress? Planning another wedding already?”
Hannah ignored him.
She lifted the gown and reached beneath the inner lining.
Her fingers found a small opening in the seam.
From inside, she removed a memory card no larger than her fingernail.
Grant stopped smiling.
Months earlier, Hannah had copied files from his laptop after becoming afraid he would blame her for his businesses.
She had hidden the card where he would never look.
Inside the car, Rebecca opened the files on an isolated computer.
There were payment records.
Emails.
Audio clips.
Security schedules.
And a video recorded inside Grant’s study.
Margaret’s voice came through the speakers.
“Handle the diner before Thursday. I don’t care how dark it gets.”
Nolan Briggs answered.
“And if someone is inside?”
Margaret did not hesitate.
“Then they should have left when they were warned.”
Hannah covered her mouth.
Rebecca stared at the screen.
Then another file opened automatically.
It was a list of shell companies.
Beside one company was the name Samuel Carter.
The entry was dated three years after my husband died.
May you like
Someone had been conducting business under Samuel’s identity.
And according to the records, that dead man had transferred away every share I now claimed to own.
