Chapter 8 - The Contractor Who Came Back
His name was Victor Sloane.
According to the public record, Sloane had retired overseas after years of litigation involving government contracts.
I remembered his face from an interview room in Virginia.
He'd sat behind counsel, perfectly still, while investigators asked about missing equipment and inflated billing.
I'd spoken for forty minutes.
When I finished, Sloane looked directly at me and smiled.
The memory had disappeared beneath years of family routines.
Until now.
Rourke pulled up a corporate filing showing Sloane as an adviser to one of Price's real-estate entities.
Nora told us not to confuse suspicious connections with proof.
She was right.
So we began separating what we knew from what we feared.
We had recordings of paperwork being substituted.
We had evidence of a rigged exhibition.
We had employment fraud and a suspicious payment redirection.
We had a private investigator's invoice bearing my name.
What we didn't yet have was evidence that connected Sloane to the attempted theft of the drive.
That afternoon, Northline's compliance officer called.
The redirected customer payment was still recoverable because the receiving bank had flagged it.
But the email impersonation came from a network tied to a shared office leased by Price Strategic Holdings.
I gave the information to Nora and asked her to pass it to investigators.
Then I drove to the VA medical center for my knee.
The physician examined the swelling and recommended imaging and rest.
She asked whether I'd been in a fight.
“An exhibition I shouldn't have attended.”
She gave me a long look.
“Your knee doesn't care what you call it.”
For the first time in days, I smiled.
Outside, I found Claire waiting near my truck.
She looked exhausted.
No makeup.
No expensive gym clothes.
Just the gray sweater she'd worn during a winter when my pain had kept me awake for weeks.
“I didn't know about the loaded gloves,” she said.
“You knew about the paperwork.”
She stared at the pavement.
“I thought it was the only way to keep you from fighting the divorce.”
“Who told you that?”
She swallowed.
“Gavin.”
“And the drive?”
She looked up so sharply that I had my answer.
“Cole, I never opened it.”
“Where is it?”
Her eyes filled.
“I gave it to Derek.”
A black sedan pulled into the far side of the parking lot.
Claire saw it and stepped backward.
“Please,” she whispered.
May you like
“Don't let them know I told you.”
