Chapter 9 - What Adrian Cole Never Told Me|
The police searched the café until sunrise.
They found no body, no obvious trail beyond the blood on the hallway floor, and no sign that Maureen had been carried out through the front door. The officers treated the blood as evidence of a possible abduction, but they couldn't determine how much had been lost.
I sat at the counter with my father's photograph propped against a sugar jar.
Adrian stood several feet away, speaking with a detective who looked increasingly frustrated by his answers.
When the detective left, I waited until Adrian turned toward me.
“You said we needed to talk about my father.”
He took the stool opposite me.
“Yes.”
“Then talk.”
He looked down at his hands.
“My father and yours were business associates for a short time. They met through Daniel Mercer. Your father supplied coffee and catering services to several properties owned by my family.”
“I knew he had business clients.”
“There was more to it. My father suspected someone was diverting money from the company. Quinn agreed to review certain records because he knew the local suppliers and understood how the payments should have been recorded.”
I thought of the blue ledger.
“Dad was helping investigate your company?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew that all along?”
“I knew he had helped my father with an accounting discrepancy. I didn't know how much he had uncovered until you showed me the ledger.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I wasn't sure whether you were being watched. I didn't want to expose what you knew before we had evidence.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“I know.”
I stared at him.
He didn't defend himself.
That was almost worse.
“Did you visit the café because you knew my father?”
“At first, yes. I wanted to see whether the place was still operating and whether anyone had taken his records. Then I met you.”
“You could have told me.”
“I could have.”
“Why didn't you?”
Adrian leaned back, his expression distant.
“Because I spent years believing that every kindness had a price. Your father offered me coffee when I was grieving. He didn't ask for money, influence, or favors. When I came back and found you working behind his counter, I didn't know how to explain why I kept returning.”
“So you just sat there for forty nights?”
“Yes.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“I've been told.”
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me.
It vanished quickly.
“Did you ever suspect Maureen was involved?”
“I suspected the property transfer was irregular. I didn't know she was threatening you or using the café to hide payments.”
“And now?”
“Now I think she knows who arranged the transfers, and someone believes she has the original recording.”
I looked at the empty street beyond the window.
“Do you think she's alive?”
“I think we have to act as if she is.”
He reached across the counter, stopping before his hand touched mine.
“I should have told you more. I'm sorry.”
The apology unsettled me because it wasn't polished or strategic. He sounded like a man who knew that being sorry did not erase what he had withheld.
Before I could answer, Evelyn entered carrying a tablet.
“We found something.”
She placed it on the counter.
A security camera outside a neighboring store had captured a dark sedan stopping near the café shortly before the break-in. The driver's face was obscured, but the license plate had been partially visible.
The vehicle was registered to a company called Northbridge Consulting.
Adrian's expression changed.
“Victor Hale used Northbridge for private financial work.”
“Can you trace the car?” I asked.
“The registered address is a commercial building that hasn't been occupied in six months,” Evelyn said. “But the vehicle was seen near a private airfield outside the city this morning.”
“Then that's where we'll go.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“We are not conducting our own rescue operation. The police have been notified.”
Adrian nodded.
“Agreed.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“You're not going?”
“Not without coordinating with the authorities.”
“Since when do you follow instructions?”
“Since I learned that doing everything myself can get innocent people hurt.”
The words carried a weight I couldn't quite explain.
Evelyn received a message and read it silently.
Then she looked up.
“There is one more thing. A former employee at the medical examiner's office contacted the detective. He remembers a request to amend the report on Quinn Bennett's death.”
My breath caught.
“Amend it how?”
“The original report noted an unexplained medication in his bloodwork. The final report did not.”
I gripped the edge of the counter.
“My father was poisoned?”
“We don't know,” Evelyn said. “The medication could have been prescribed, or the sample could have been contaminated. But someone requested the change, and the paperwork bears a signature linked to Victor Hale.”
Adrian's face became stone.
At that moment, his phone rang.
He listened for ten seconds without speaking.
Then he lowered it.
“They found the sedan.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Near the airfield.”
“Was Maureen inside?”
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“But they found a second vehicle registered to a medical transport company. It was parked in the hangar.”
May you like
He paused.
“And the driver says Victor Hale left in it with a woman whose description matches Maureen's.”
