Chapter 3 - THE TAPEThe cassette was old, but the recording survived.
Grant listened with police and counsel present.
The first thirty seconds were static.
Then Laurel’s voice.
Weak.
Breathing hard.
Grant gripped the chair.
Five years.
He had not heard her voice in five years.
Then:
“My name is Laurel Mercer Holloway. If Grant hears this, I need him to know I made it back to the estate.”
Grant stopped breathing.
Rachel covered her mouth.
The tape continued.
“The crash did not kill me.”
A pause.
“Celeste found me on the service road.”
Grant closed his eyes.
Then Laurel:
“She brought me here instead of the hospital because Harrison said the documents had to be handled first.”
Grant opened his eyes.
His father.
There it was.
Laurel coughed.
“They think I don’t understand what they’re doing.”
Then another voice appeared.
Distant.
Harrison.
Grant’s father.
“Laurel, sign it and we’ll get you medical attention.”
Grant stood so abruptly his chair scraped backward.
“No.”
Detective Chen paused the tape.
Grant’s face had gone white.
Rachel whispered:
“Grant…”
He sat again.
“Play it.”
Harrison’s voice:
“The transfer only protects the company.”
Laurel answered:
“It steals Wren’s shares.”
Celeste spoke next.
Young voice.
Frightened.
“Laurel, please. You’re bleeding.”
Laurel:
“Then call an ambulance.”
Silence.
Harrison:
“Sign first.”
Grant looked physically ill.
His father had delayed medical care to force his injured wife to sign something.
The tape continued.
Laurel said:
“Grant doesn’t know Northstar belongs to my family.”
Northstar.
Grant knew the name.
Northstar Holdings owned several of the Holloway Group’s most valuable hotel properties.
His father always described it as a family investment vehicle.
Apparently not.
Then Laurel:
“My grandfather put the founder block in trust. Wren receives it if something happens to me.”
Celeste:
“Harrison says that clause can destroy the merger.”
Laurel:
“Then let the merger die.”
The recording broke into static.
Then another segment.
Laurel sounded weaker.
“If I don’t leave this room, Harrison knows why.”
Grant could barely breathe.
Then:
“Celeste knows too.”
The tape ended.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Grant whispered:
“Did they kill her?”
Detective Chen answered carefully.
“We don’t know.”
Correct.
No conclusions beyond evidence.
But they knew something now.
Laurel survived the crash.
Was brought to the Holloway estate.
Was held inside the chamber while Grant’s father demanded signatures.
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And Celeste was there.
The woman Grant had nearly married five years later had known exactly where his dying wife spent at least part of her final night.
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