Chapter 8 - The Bullet Meant for Grant
Evelyn climbed the hidden stairs before anyone could stop her. Pain tore across her abdomen, but fear drowned it. Naomi shouted behind her. Daniel cursed. Sloane followed. When Evelyn reached the conference room, she saw Grant lying near the glass wall with blood spreading across his white shirt. William Cross stood ten feet away holding a pistol. Detective Mills was behind an overturned desk, weapon drawn, pinned by Cross’s second armed man near the hallway. “Evelyn, get down!” Mills shouted.
Grant moved. Relief hit her so hard her knees weakened. The bullet had struck high near his shoulder. He was conscious. Cross turned toward her. “You should have stayed downstairs.” Evelyn stared at the gun. “You should have stayed gone.” Cross smiled. “Still your father’s daughter.” “That stopped being an insult hours ago.”
Daniel and Naomi emerged cautiously. Sloane stayed near the doorway. Cross’s second man swung his weapon toward them. Then Sloane shouted, “Victor!” The man glanced at her instinctively. Mills fired into the ceiling above him—not at the man, but enough to make him flinch. Daniel lunged and knocked the weapon away. Chaos erupted. Cross grabbed Evelyn.
His forearm locked around her upper chest, pistol pressed near her ribs. Pain exploded through her incision. She gasped. Grant tried to stand. “Let her go.” Cross dragged Evelyn backward. “Stay down.” Grant ignored him. “You don’t need her.” “I need the files.” Evelyn fought to remain upright. “They’ve already been copied.” Cross tightened his grip. “Liar.” “Federal prosecutors have the memory card Grant stole from you.” Cross looked toward Grant. That tiny reaction confirmed he had not known where the card was. Evelyn continued. “Rachel is cooperating. Sloane is cooperating. Richard is cooperating. Your accounts are being frozen while you stand here.” Cross whispered, “Shut up.” “You lost before you walked into this building.”
Outside, sirens approached. Cross moved toward the rear hallway, dragging Evelyn with him. Grant stood despite blood dripping down his arm. “William.” Cross swung the pistol toward him. “One more step.” Grant stopped. Evelyn looked at her husband. Twelve years. She remembered him teaching her to paddleboard at Juniper House. Making terrible pancakes. Holding her mother’s hand during hospice. She remembered his lies, his affair, the hospital, the deed. Love and betrayal could occupy the same memory. She hated that. But she did not want him dead.
Cross backed toward the emergency stairwell. “Keys.” “To what?” Evelyn asked. “Your car.” “You really think you’re driving out of here?” “Keys.” She slowly reached into her coat pocket, though Naomi had driven her. Cross looked down for half a second.
Grant moved.
He charged.
Cross fired.
The shot struck glass.
Evelyn dropped instinctively. Grant hit Cross hard enough to send both men crashing into a conference table. The pistol slid across the floor. Mills reached it first. Within seconds Cross was face-down, handcuffed, screaming threats at everyone.
Evelyn crawled toward Grant. “Are you hit again?” “I don’t think so.” “That is not an answer.” He laughed through pain. “Still bossy.” “You’re bleeding on my floor.” “Technically your company’s floor.” “Grant.” His smile disappeared. “I’m okay.”
Paramedics took him away. Evelyn’s surgeon also forced her back to the hospital after discovering the incision had partially reopened. “You are an architect,” Dr. Patel said while examining her. “Yes.” “Not a police officer.” “I’m becoming aware of the distinction.” “If you leave this hospital again before I discharge you, I will personally remove your shoes.” Naomi laughed from the chair. Evelyn glared. “You’re enjoying this.” “Immensely.”
Grant’s injury was serious but not life-threatening. The bullet passed through his shoulder without hitting bone or major vessels. He ended up recovering two floors above Evelyn. Neither visited the other.
Federal agents spent the next forty-eight hours processing the Hartwell sub-basement. Cross was charged initially with kidnapping, assault, attempted murder, conspiracy, and multiple financial crimes. Environmental investigators opened a major case regarding Juniper Point. Reporters gathered outside both the hospital and Hartwell Studio.
Then Evelyn received a visitor she did not expect.
Grant’s mother, Judith Hart.
Judith was seventy-one, elegant, restrained, and famously allergic to emotional conversation. She had never approved of Evelyn’s career obsession, though she rarely said it directly. She entered carrying no flowers. “You look better than Grant.” Evelyn almost smiled. “That’s a low standard today.” Judith sat.
“I owe you the truth about Michael.”
Evelyn waited.
Judith explained that Grant’s father had invested with William Cross and Thomas Whitmore. When money began disappearing, Michael believed Thomas had betrayed him. Cross encouraged that belief. After Michael’s death, Cross occasionally helped Judith financially. Grant grew up hearing that Thomas Whitmore had destroyed his father. “Did Grant know who I was when we met?” Evelyn asked. Judith hesitated. “Yes.”
The word cut cleanly.
“He knew?”
“He recognized your last name.”
“Did he approach me because of my father?”
“I don’t know what was in his mind.” Judith looked down. “But I encouraged him.”
Evelyn’s throat tightened. “Why?”
“Because I thought marrying Thomas Whitmore’s daughter was some kind of justice.”
Evelyn laughed in disbelief. “You pushed your son toward me for revenge?”
“At first.”
“And then?”
“He fell in love with you.”
“People keep saying that as though love cancels behavior.”
Judith’s eyes filled. “It doesn’t.”
Evelyn stared at the older woman. “Did Grant ever tell you about Cross?”
“Not until six months ago.”
“What did he say?”
“That he thought Cross had lied about Michael.”
Evelyn leaned forward. “Why?”
“Grant found an old bank statement showing Cross took money out of Michael’s company before it failed.”
So Grant had begun investigating. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Pride.” Judith’s voice broke. “The disease of the Hart men.”
Before leaving, Judith handed Evelyn a sealed envelope. “Grant wrote this before surgery.” “His or mine?” “Yours.” Evelyn frowned. “Before my operation?” Judith nodded. “He gave it to me and said if anything went wrong, I should deliver it.”
After Judith left, Evelyn opened it.
Evie, if you are reading this, something went wrong, and I was too much of a coward to tell you beforehand. Cross has been using Sloane and me. I thought I could outsmart him. I also thought I could keep the affair separate from the rest of my life, which may be the stupidest thing I have ever believed. I found evidence that Cross stole from my father and helped destroy him. I wanted Juniper because Cross promised it contained proof. I told myself that justified things I knew were wrong. It didn’t. If you wake up and I have done something unforgivable, believe the version of me writing this: I know you deserved better.
Evelyn folded the letter.
Naomi watched silently.
“He knew before the hospital,” Evelyn said.
“Yes.”
“And he still came into my room with Sloane.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
That was the tragedy of Grant. He had known enough to choose differently and still failed.
Her phone buzzed. A news alert appeared.
WILLIAM CROSS IN FEDERAL CUSTODY; AUTHORITIES INVESTIGATE POSSIBLE DECADES-LONG CORRUPTION SCHEME.
Naomi smiled. “He’s going down.”
Evelyn looked at the letter.
“Maybe.”
“What?”
May you like
“Cross built this for decades. Men like that rarely keep only one insurance policy.”
As if summoned by the thought, Detective Mills called. “We searched Cross’s house.” “And?” “We found a safe.” “What was inside?” Mills paused. “Photographs of Evelyn. Hundreds of them.” Naomi’s smile disappeared. “From when?” “Some recent.” Another pause. “Some from when she was twelve.”
