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“A friend of mine in Treasury pulled some strings. I can’t get the files, not without a warrant, but she verbally confirmed my suspicions. Both Adam HanniganandPeter Grey had at one time been employed by Brock Marsh—and they almost exclusively work foryourlaw firm.”
“How certain are you?” Grant asked, his mind twisting as to what this all might mean. He didn’t want to believe it...but he had questioned some of the tactics of Brock Marsh over the years. But because nothing they did appeared to cross the legal line, Grant ignored their questionable ethics.
“I’m a hundred percent certain that Brock Marsh paid Peter Grey—sending money to his only living relative, his daughter—to kill Adam Hannigan because Hannigan was a weak link. Hannigan felt guilty for killing Chase. He had intended to killyou. When Hannigan agreed to meet with Regan, they thought he would talk, tell her what was going on, that something you did or knew or, fuck, whatever you’re into—got Chase killed. So Hannigan was a liability. We just have to figure out who wanted you dead—and why they didn’t follow through and kill you.” Granger stared at him, all cop, all military, all hard edges. He was bigger than Grant in every way, and at that moment, Grant felt smaller than he was.
In the back of his mind, he thought Tom Granger might be right.
Granger softened; his voice quieted. “I can’t do this without you, Grant. Please. I need your help.”
Grant had wanted to believe everything Tom Granger told him was a lie or a coincidence, but the more files he pulled, the more he realized Granger might be onto something. It wasn’t any one thing that caught Grant’s eye. It was the fact that he knew far more damning or proprietary information about some of his clients—and Franklin’s clients—than he realized. He’d always tried to stay firmly on the right side of the line, even when he knew that his partner sometimes crossed it. He felt plausible deniability was the right approach—don’t ask, don’t tell.
Now he wondered if he knew too much about a corporate crime. Or a personal crime. He knew a lot of nasty shit about his clients. But ethically, unless he knew of a crime about to be committed, Grant could do nothing about their transgressions. And he didn’t know what, specifically, would have made him a target.
He passed everything he had over to Tom, but Tom didn’t return with answers. He just had more questions. About BioRise Pharmaceuticals, a West Virginia mining company, and Senator Clarence Burgess primarily.
Grant had questions of his own, but Tom never gave him answers—until last Saturday, when they met again at Tom’s house.
Tom told him that he would present all his information to his colleagues on Monday and see what happened. If they were going to proceed with an official investigation, Tom wanted to put Grant into protective custody—Grant and Grant’s girlfriend, Madeline, a junior partner in Archer Warwick who had helped Grant find the files that Tom needed.
Grant didn’t want to believe Tom, but he said one thing that really stuck with him.“There is a clear path between Brock Marsh Security and Adam Hannigan. Brock Marsh works almost exclusively for your law firm and three of Archer’s clients. I also have evidence that Brock Marsh paid Peter Grey’s daughter a hefty sum two months after Hannigan’s murder—for no obvious reason. Everything else—I need warrants. And I think the Marshals Special Operations Group will take this on.”
Grant couldn’t imagine that someone would want him dead—he didn’t know anything that was worthy of killing him for! Except...he had gone through a dark period after Chase’s murder and admitted to Tom that he didn’t remember anything that he had been working on during that time—even in the weeks before Chase’s death. Franklin had taken over all his cases until Grant could get back to work.
Franklin Archer—Grant didn’t want to believe that his best friend, who had been best man at his wedding, who had been part of every important event in Grant’s adult life—could be involved inanythingthat resulted in the death of Grant’s son.
And until Granger had proof, Grantdidn’tbelieve it.
Except now Granger was dead.
A knock on Grant’s office door interrupted his thoughts. The door opened and his assistant Jeffrey Lange stepped in. “Grant, your ten o’clock is running late, and Senator Burgess has moved lunch from one to twelve thirty so Mr. Archer can join you.”
“Thank you, Jeff,” Grant said.
Grant had known Senator Clarence Burgess since he started working as a junior partner for the law firm when it was known as Archer and Archer. He didn’t particularly like the man—after all, Grant had negotiated and written several nondisclosure agreements between Burgess and his staff that weren’t exactly favorable to the staff—but could the senator have hired a hit man to kill him? Why?
The only reason Grant remembered that he’d been in the middle of a settlement between Burgess’s youngest son, Hank, and Hank’s ex-girlfriend last year was because Tom Granger had forced him to look at his calendar and all his cases during the months of May and June leading up to Chase’s murder. Franklin had ended up finishing the deal because Grant took weeks off to grieve and bury his son.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Warwick?” Jeff asked. “You seem preoccupied.”
“Sorry, I’m fine. Preparing for the Zarian depositions. Can you make sure all legal names and addresses have been verified, and that all certifications have been returned?”
“Of course.” Jeff closed the door and Grant breathed easier. He didn’t know why he was starting to become suspicious of his assistant. Jeff had been with him for three years, a top graduate from Georgetown in business administration and prelaw, who decided to become a legal secretary instead of a lawyer. He was the most efficient, sharpest assistant Grant had ever had.
Yet...
Grant shook his head. He was getting paranoid. Maybe he had reason to be—Tom Granger wasdead. He needed to find out exactly what happened. Maybe it had nothing to do with his investigation into Grant’s law firm and Brock Marsh Security.
Hewantedto believe that, but he didn’t.
Grant felt nauseated. He didn’t want to admit to Regan that he’d been an idiot. Even worse, he had laid all the blame at her feet. He had hurt her when Chase’s murder may actually have been related tohiswork.
Grant had loved them both so much, though he had never quite felt like he lived up to Regan’s expectations. She’d never belittled him, but she was so damndispassionate. And every time they argued about something, she never actually got angry with him. She was the epitome of calm when he just wanted to see that shecared.
Hindsight, of course. Regan was who she was. She cared, but she didn’t get emotional. He didn’t realize when they married that he needed that emotional connection, the passion that told him that she loved him as he loved her. She compartmentalized and analyzedeverything. It was annoying and frustrating and made him question everything about them. She was a rock. She was dependable and loyal and smart. But sometimes he had wanted...hell, he never knew how to tell her he felt more like her responsibility and less like her lover.
Tonight he would tell her everything he knew, explain that he had never in a million years thought that one of his clients could have hired Adam Hannigan to kill Chase. To killhim. Ask her forgiveness. When he’d seen her six weeks ago at Chase’s grave, something shifted inside him.
He missed her. He never expected her to return to him—she was right, they had fallen out of love with each other somewhere along the way. But they’d once shared something special. Together, they had an amazing son. Chase might be gone, but neither of them could forget him. He was theirs, their boy they had created together, and that was an unbreakable bond.
