Chapter 15 #3
"These are the same inconsistencies I found in the documents sent to that reporter," Gabe said quietly. "Same signature errors, same formatting problems."
Walter studied each document with careful attention. "May we keep these? Make copies for our attorney and the police?"
"You can keep them. I made copies." Vanessa's hands were steadier now, though her voice shook with every syllable. "I've been documenting things for weeks. Ever since I overheard Harold on the phone with Callie right after David’s funeral.”
“Callie?” Emery asked.
Vanessa met her eyes. "He was worried. Asking if they were sure this was going to work, if they were certain Emery wouldn't fight back. And Callie—" She paused, swallowing hard. "Callie told him not to worry, that they had 'contingencies in place' and that Emery would be taken care of.”
Emery felt Devon's hand find hers under the table, squeezing tight.
"That's when I knew I had to do something," Vanessa said. "I told myself maybe I misheard, maybe it was about something else. But then I heard someone shot at her in broad daylight. That's when I couldn't pretend anymore."
Emery wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to storm over to Pemberton's Auction House and demand answers. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the evidence of her mentor's betrayal.
"There's one more thing," Vanessa said quietly. She pulled out a final document—a printed screenshot of a text message exchange. "This is from Harold's phone. I shouldn't have access to his messages, but he uses the same computer I do for backups, and I found these in his cloud storage."
Riley took the paper, her face paling as she read. She handed it to Walter, who closed his eyes briefly before passing it to Devon.
Devon read it, and Emery felt his entire body go rigid beside her.
"What?" Emery asked. "What does it say?"
Devon handed her the paper silently. Gabe moved to read over her shoulder.
The exchange was between Harold and an unknown number, dated two days after Emery had started working at Stone Bridge:
Unknown: I need you to recreate a set of forged documents.
Harold: I did what you asked. It was a one-time thing.
Unknown: If you don’t do it, business goes away, and maybe things get leaked.
Harold: Are you threatening me?.
Unknown: I’m telling you that I need one more favor. It’s a simple one—same forged document. C and I need her gone. C will resort to drastic measures if she’s not. C’s already talking crazy shit. Just do it.
Harold: Fine. But this is the last time.
Emery's hands shook so badly the paper rattled.
"C," Gabe said. “I’m thinking that’s short for Callie?”
"We don't know that for certain," Walter said carefully.
"Who else would it be?" Bryson asked. “That’s got to be Winston. I’m sure a good IT forensics guy could figure out who that unknown caller is. It’s so easy these days to mask your phone number, or even have it flash a different one, but IT can still trace it.”
“One thing that reporters learned the hard way was to do more diligent checks on whether things are real or not instead of jumping into a juicy story,” Riley said. “Proving those are real, having them authenticated, and then how we got them, that all might be an issue.”
“I know they’re real. I can show you the cloud backup, the metadata, everything. And I’m allowed access, so I’m not violating anything. Or at least, I don’t think I am.” Vanessa reached up and grabbed a lock of her hair, twisting it through her fingers.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve known about this for a long time. Why did you wait?” The question burst out of Emery harsher than she intended. “You could’ve stopped this. Or at the very least help save an innocent man.”
Vanessa dropped her hands to the table and her shoulders hunched forward.
“Winston and Callie scare me. They have powerful friends. And coming forward would end my career. I need this job. I have two little kids. My husband recently lost his job, and it’s been hard for him to find work.
And if Harold would do that to you—someone he thought so highly of--for money.
I can only imagine what he might be willing to do to me.
” She looked down at her hands. "I told myself it wasn't my business, that maybe there was a legitimate reason.
But when I heard you'd been shot at—that someone actually pulled a trigger—I realized I'd been complicit through my silence. "
Emery wanted to stay angry, wanted to hold onto the rage. But looking at Vanessa's tear-streaked face, her trembling hands, the obvious terror in her eyes—Emery couldn't sustain it.
"Thank you," Emery said quietly. "For coming forward."
"It's not brave. It's the bare minimum." Vanessa wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner. But I'm here now. I just worry what will happen to me.”
“For right now, you don’t say anything to anyone,” Devon said. “No one needs to know you came forward. But I’m sure Sandy will need to speak to you.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.” Vanessa sat up taller.
Walter gathered the documents carefully. “I’ll call Sandy and Harlan. You’ll need an attorney, and he’s the best.”
"What do we do until then?" Emery asked. So many things still didn’t make sense.
"We stay together," Devon said. "We stay vigilant. And we wait for the police to do their job."
After Vanessa left, promising to remain available for questioning, the kitchen fell into heavy silence.
Emery sat, staring at the documents spread across the table—proof of Harold's betrayal, evidence of conspiracy, text messages discussing her elimination as if she were nothing more than a problem to be solved.
“I can’t believe Harold sold me out,” she said finally. "For money. Harold sold me out for money and business deals."
"I'm sorry," Devon said, pulling her closer. "I'm so sorry."
"And someone's still out there. Whoever Harold was texting. Whoever's been doing the actual—" She couldn't finish the sentence.
"We'll find them," Gabe said quietly. "Sandy will find them. It’s only a matter of time.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know." Devon's arm tightened around her. "I am, too."
And somehow, his admission made her feel less alone. Less like she was crazy for being terrified. Because she should be terrified. Someone wanted her dead. Had wanted her dead for months. And now, they had proof of the conspiracy, but not the person pulling the trigger.
Walter stood, phone already in his hand. "I'm calling Sandy, now. Bryson, take these documents and make copies—multiple copies. Riley, document everything Vanessa said while it's fresh."
They moved into action, purposeful and organized. But Emery couldn't move. Couldn't think past the words in that text message.
Devon stayed beside her, his hand in hers, solid and warm and genuine. The only thing keeping her grounded while her world continued to splinter apart.