Chapter 6 - The Last Secret
Garrett was already moving.
“Get in.”
We reached Margaret’s Gold Coast townhouse in nine minutes.
Victor’s security vehicles arrived behind us.
The front door was open.
Garrett entered first.
“Mom!”
No answer.
We found Margaret upstairs.
She was sitting on the floor beside her bed.
Garrett dropped beside her.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Someone searched the room.”
Drawers had been emptied.
A painting had been pulled from the wall.
Victor examined the window.
“No forced entry.”
Margaret looked at Garrett.
“They had a key.”
Garrett’s eyes hardened.
“Who?”
A voice came from the doorway.
“I did.”
Everyone turned.
Aldridge stood there.
Our former manager.
Two security officers grabbed him before he could move.
Garrett rose slowly.
“Aldridge.”
Aldridge looked exhausted.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“What wasn’t?”
“Madison promised nobody would get hurt.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You gave her access to my home?”
“She paid me.”
Garrett took one step forward.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
I stared at him.
Aldridge continued quickly.
“She needed the flash drive. That was all.”
“You knew she was hurting my mother.”
“I didn’t know how bad it was.”
“You knew enough.”
Aldridge lowered his head.
Victor asked, “Why come back tonight?”
Aldridge looked toward Margaret.
“Because Madison thinks there’s another copy.”
Garrett turned to his mother.
“Is there?”
Margaret hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
Garrett closed his eyes briefly.
“Mom.”
“Your father never trusted a single copy.”
“Where?”
Margaret pointed toward an old wooden jewelry box.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Garrett as a boy between his parents.
Behind the photograph was a memory card.
Aldridge stared at it.
“That’s what she wants.”
Garrett handed it to Victor.
“She doesn’t get it.”
Within forty-eight hours, investigators had everything.
The second copy contained far more than financial fraud.
Names.
Payments.
Bribes.
Enough evidence to collapse what remained of Cole Development’s criminal network.
Madison was arrested before she could leave Illinois.
Aldridge cooperated in exchange for consideration from prosecutors.
And Margaret Weston finally slept through a Friday night without fear.
A week later, I returned to West Erie after closing.
Garrett was waiting at table one.
No bodyguards.
No meetings.
No Madison.
Just two plates and a bottle of sparkling water.
“You’re late,” he said.
“I work here.”
“I know.”
“You scheduled our date inside my workplace.”
“I panicked.”
I laughed.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Garrett Weston panics?”
“Apparently around you.”
I sat down.
He poured water into my glass.
“What happens now?”
He looked at me.
“With Madison?”
“With everything.”
“The prosecutors handle Cole Development.”
“And your mother?”
“She’s going to Italy for three months.”
“Alone?”
“She insists.”
“Good for her.”
Garrett nodded.
Then his expression changed.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“What happens with you?”
“I continue working.”
“You don’t have to.”
My smile disappeared.
“Careful.”
He immediately understood.
“That came out wrong.”
“Very.”
“I’m not trying to rescue you.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking whether this”—he gestured between us—“gets a chance.”
I studied him.
“Do you want the waitress answer or Rachel’s answer?”
“Rachel’s.”
I leaned forward.
“One date.”
Garrett smiled.
“One.”
“And you don’t get to intimidate the waiter.”
“I’ll try.”
“And no background checks.”
He hesitated.
My eyes narrowed.
“You already did one?”
“Victor did.”
“Garrett!”
He actually laughed.
May you like
And somehow, after everything that had happened at table one, that sound felt like the beginning of something instead of the end.
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