Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
T he roads were finally clear. Snowbanks lined the streets, pushed aside by the plows, but the world still felt heavy, muted. Blake Ellison drove in silence, his knuckles tight on the wheel, the heater blasting in a futile attempt to thaw the chill settling deep in his bones. Ruth Everhart was in a coma.
The thought pressed down on him, a silent reminder that life could unravel faster than any of them could control. Ruth was a chip off her father’s block. So like him in so many ways. Years later, he still missed his old friend, especially in times like these. He would have hired her even if she was a bad attorney, but she was brilliant. Now, she was lying in a hospital bed. Charlotte sounded lost when he spoke with her.
Blake pulled into the garage, past the familiar row of cars, his eyes flicking over the sleek black sedan parked near the entrance. Dylan's car. Matt Brandt’s ostentatious Hummer. But Ruth’s car wasn’t there.
He swallowed hard. There was no time to dwell. He stepped into the cold, his breath a ghostly plume in the frigid air as he made his way inside. The office seemed normal. The usual hum of conversation and ringing phones were present, but the underlying atmosphere was thick with something unspoken. Sadness.
He headed straight for Ruth’s office, pushing the door open to find Melanie at her desk. She glanced up, the shadows under her eyes telling him she hadn’t been sleeping much either. "Mr. Ellison," she greeted, already sensing why he was there.
"Has Matt asked you to pull all of Ruth’s cases?" he asked, his tone brisk.
Melanie shook her head. "Not yet."
"Do it now. I need to redistribute her caseload before things start slipping through the cracks."
She nodded and stood, beginning to reach for the files.
Blake didn't linger. He had another stop to make. He took the escalator up to the executive offices, his mind already working through the names, the cases, the next steps. But as he reached the top, something made him slow. Dylan's office door was open.
That wasn’t right. His secretary wasn’t at her desk. A prickle of unease crawled up his spine as he stepped closer, knocking once on the inner doorframe before pushing it open. His breath caught.
Dylan Grant was on the couch, his suit rumpled, his tie loosened. A woman lay sprawled beside him, her blouse askew, blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. His secretary. They weren’t moving.
Blake took a step forward, then froze. A bullet wound marred the center of Dylan’s forehead. His secretary had one too. A clean shot for both. Execution-style.
The bile rose in his throat as he staggered back, his fingers fumbling for his phone.
"9-1-1, what’s your emergency?"
He forced the words out, his voice barely steady. "My name is Blake Ellison. Dylan Grant and his secretary are dead.” He gave the address. His next call went to building security.
The minutes that followed passed in a blur. Sirens. Flashing lights. The crisp voices of officers filling the once-still space.
Blake sat at the secretarial desk, his mind reeling. First Ruth in a coma. Now Dylan and his secretary, gunned down in cold blood. Footsteps echoed down the hall.
Matt Brandt arrived, pushing through the crowd of officers, his face pale, eyes wild as they landed on the bodies. His breath hitched. "No," he whispered, shaking his head like he could will it all away.
A uniformed highway patrol officer introduced to him as Commander Brad Killian arrived after the first crowd of officers. A man in a suit with a gold badge on his hip, introduced as U.S. Attorney Investigator Alex Marcel, appeared a moment later. Their expressions were unreadable.
Marcel barely looked at the scene before turning to Killian, his voice low, edged with certainty. "Someone is cleaning up."
Killian exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "Yeah."
Blake finally found his voice, though it came out hoarse. "Who could have done this?”
The hum of police radios filled the space, officers moving mechanically as they documented the scene. But none of it changed the brutal reality. Dylan Grant was gone.
Blake turned to Matt, his voice cutting through the air. "If you know something, you better start talking."
Matt’s jaw clenched. His gaze flickered to Dylan’s body before settling on Blake. He looked like a man holding on to something dangerous, something that could get them all killed. A long silence stretched between them.
* * *
Hours later, long after the bodies were removed, and Blake, with Commander Killian’s permission, sent everyone in the office home, Blake sat in the back booth of a dimly lit bar, the kind of place where nobody asked questions, and everyone had something to hide. The smell of old whiskey and stale cigarettes clung to the air, the hum of low conversation filling the space.
Matt slid into the seat across from him, his movements stiff, his hands still trembling slightly.
Blake didn’t waste time. "Talk."
Matt leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Robert Hilton betrayed Maxim Fairchild. You know that. He was his accountant, his fixer, the guy who kept Fairchild’s money clean. Until he failed trying to sell the secrets and decided to flip. He wanted that last big payout so he could live the rest of his life in luxury and not work anymore."
Blake nodded. "He brought everything to Noah Kandor."
Matt hesitated, but then gave a slow nod. "Yeah."
Blake’s mind worked fast, putting the pieces together. "That’s the only way the State Attorney’s office would agree to protect Hilton. Noah must have the drive."
Matt didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. His silence was enough.
Blake exhaled sharply. "Then Hilton was taken out before Noah could go through the files. And now Dylan’s dead. What did he have to do with this? Or is there something else going on?"
A realization settled in his gut like lead. Blake stared hard at Matt. "Where did they get Hilton’s location?"
Matt’s expression barely changed, but the flicker in his eyes was enough. Blake’s blood went cold.
"You and Dylan knew where Hilton was," he said, his voice deadly quiet. "You had to know."
Matt swallowed. "Blake…”
"There was a second drive," Blake continued, the words coming sharper now. "The same information on the one Noah Kandor has. Hilton get greedy? The supposed deal didn’t fail? He figured he could make a quick buck? Betray the government and the buyer? And yet, Fairchild’s people got to him anyway. That means someone gave him up."
Matt's jaw tightened.
Blake shook his head, his breath coming slow and steady. "And the only people who knew where Hilton was?" His voice dropped lower. "Were the ones protecting him."
Silence.
Blake leaned forward, his eyes locked on Matt’s. "You and Dylan killed him, didn’t you?"
Matt didn't flinch, but he didn't deny it either.
Blake let out a slow breath. "Fairchild had Dylan under his thumb, didn’t he?"
Matt’s gaze darkened. "Yeah."
"And you?"
Matt’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I did what I had to do for Dylan."
Blake clenched his jaw. "Jesus Christ, Matt."
Matt ran a hand through his hair, looking away. "It was never supposed to go like this."
Blake sat back, his mind racing. If Dylan and Matt were forced to take Hilton out, then someone inside the state attorney’s office must have fed them Hilton’s location. Fairchild had someone on the inside.
The question was— who ?
Blake’s hands tightened into fists under the table. "Someone in the state attorney’s office is compromised.”
Matt exhaled, his voice tight. "Yeah. We went to see Hilton at the motel. They let us in as his lawyers. You guessed right—Dylan’s name was on the thumb drive."
Blake’s chest tightened.
"Hilton reached out to Dylan as a potential buyer," Matt continued. "He hadn’t told Kandor how to break the encryption yet. Hilton wanted some conditions met by the state before he gave it up, and he thought he had leverage. He figured he could erase Dylan’s name—for a price."
Blake’s stomach turned. "Fairchild didn’t negotiate." He shook his head. “Hilton didn’t try to extort Fairchild, did he?”
"Yeah. He figured Fairchild would jump at the chance to get it back." Matt swallowed hard. "Fairchild wanted the drive back and ordered the hit on Hilton. Two of his guys took out Hilton’s protection, then took Hilton with them. We didn’t pull the trigger, but we knew it was coming."
Blake’s pulse pounded. "Who gave Dylan Hilton’s location?"
Matt shook his head. "He never said."
Blake stared at him, his gut twisting. “Someone in the state attorney’s office sold Hilton out. And now Dylan is dead too. How many others did Hilton try to extort?”
Matt frowned. “I don’t know.”