Chapter 17 #3
“No. Never. It would be kind of stupid to have my signature on something like that.” Grant’s voice was eerily calm and a little too steady. “Anyone could forge my name on a document or a check…”
Sandy glanced toward the ceiling, as if the answer to what she could or couldn't reveal might be hidden in the recessed lighting. “Monica’s a tricky one. It took a lot to get this out of her, and honestly, I’m not sure how much I believe of what she’s told me.
” Sandy lowered her gaze. “According to Monica, that’s what was in that envelope. ”
“Why the hell would Monica have a stamp of Grant’s signature?” Riley asked.
Grant reached for his soda, took a big gulp, then aggressively set it back on the counter.
“So, now you’re thinking Monica took the money?
She doesn’t have access to anything except one project, and we’ve made sure she has to jump through hoops to get approval for larger sums. If we left it up to her, Main Street would look like a tacky handbag on steroids. ”
“Monica claims Elizabeth gave it to her after Monica complained about all those hoops you just referenced.” Sandy leaned her hip against the counter.
“And then Monica mentioned that Elizabeth asked Monica to use the stamp to access and copy certain files for Parker. That even though he’d left the committee when he’d been diagnosed with cancer, he was still acting as a consultant, and it would just be easier than to bother anyone else with it. ”
“That’s bullshit.” Grant slammed his hand on the counter. “Parker walked away and never looked back. He was too busy fighting for his life.”
“Relax, Grant. I know that.” Sandy tilted her head. “Don’t forget my husband is also on that committee, and I spoke with the mayor and called Walter before coming over here.”
“What does any of this mean?” Riley asked, frustration seeping from every pore of her skin.
She glanced at her sister, who wiped a tear from her eye.
Turning her attention to Harlan, she said, “You’ve been awfully quiet.
Shouldn’t you be advising my brother as to what he should and shouldn’t be saying? ”
Harlan put down his pen, resting his hand on a stack of papers. “I’ll stop him, or Sandy, if I think the conversation is derailing, but so far, this is all favorable for Grant. Not so much for Elizabeth or Monica. Let’s hear the rest of what Sandy has to say.”
“Before I break this down, I need to say something.” Sandy’s gaze swept the table. “The autopsy isn’t finalized yet, but I’ll be blunt—it’s leaning toward homicide.”
The word registered with cold clarity..
Homicide.
A half-forgotten memory bubbled up from somewhere deep in her subconscious—her father in the vineyard at sunset, shoulders relaxed, wine glass in hand, smiling like nothing in the world could hurt them.
She could still hear his gravelly chuckle when he teased her about always wanting to "fly away somewhere new.
" Having it confirmed—actually hearing Sandy say the word homicide—made the abstract possibility suddenly, terribly real.
Someone had deliberately taken that from her, from him.
The finality of it settled into her chest like a weight she'd have to carry forever.
She reached out with both hands, one curling around Erin’s fingers, the other landing on Grant's.
Grant’s voice came out low. “I didn’t—”
“This is where I say, stop talking, Grant.” Harlan lowered his chin.
“Thing is, I’m inclined to believe Grant above anyone else,” Sandy said.
“But this is where some facts get blurred with my instincts.” She pulled up a stool, sat down, and clasped her hands together.
“Grant swears he stopped by his mom’s the morning of his dad’s death.
Once there, she begged him to quietly return the money.
No one would be the wiser since she thought the only people who knew were her, Sean, and now Grant. ”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Grant said behind gritted teeth.
“That and you say she gave you two cups of coffee. One labeled—”
Grant slammed his hand on the table. “I’m not lying.”
“I think it’s your mother who’s not being forthright,” Sandy cut in. “She denies seeing you that morning. Denies giving you coffee.” She leaned forward slightly. “It’s your word against hers, but we questioned Parker about it.”
“Oh, my god,” Erin gasped. “And?”
“Parker admits Grant was at the house that morning. Went on about that damn leaky faucet,” Sandy said. “But we don’t have the mug. Without it, I can’t prove who poured the coffee or what was in it.”
“Also, a husband can’t be forced to testify against his wife,” Harlan piped in.
“You’re not much help today,” Riley muttered. “Can you tell us what was found in the toxicology report?”
“I can’t answer that,” Sandy said.
Harlan leaned back, folding his arms. “Where do you stand on motive?”
“That’s an interesting question.” Sandy drummed her fingers on the countertop. “Now, no yelling. No name-calling. Just listen.”
“Alright.” Grant gave a bitter laugh.
“Grant’s name is all over this mess. It’s hard not to look at him for embezzlement. But I can’t find a motive for it,” Sandy said. “However, we can find one for homicide if he did steal the money, though.”
Riley closed her eyes and tried to pretend she didn’t just hear those words come from her friend's mouth.
“Elizabeth has motives for both,” Sandy said flatly. “She’s broke, and she needs to cover her tracks. But if I’m going to prove it, I need your help.”
“Help how?” Harlan asked.
“I’ve spoken to the local FBI office about all this, and we’re in agreement. We want Grant to wear a wire. Talk to her. Get her to confess.” Sandy leaned back, glancing around the room.
Erin’s hand flew to her mouth, tears dribbling down her cheek.
Riley sat there with her mouth gaping open.
Grant leaned back, arms folded across his massive chest. “You want me to waltz into my mother’s house, with something strapped to my chest, sweating bullets, and get her to cop to one, stealing half a million dollars over the course of a couple of months?
And two, killing our father? Her ex-husband? ”
“Yeah.” Sandy nodded. “I do.”
“Well, that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.” Harlan picked up his pencil and scribbled a few things on his pad.
“That’s insane,” Riley whispered.
“Actually, it’s not a bad idea.” Harlan glanced up. “However, my client is going to need a few things in writing from both your office and the feds. Standard stuff. He’s not going to do it without legal protection.”
Grant rubbed his jaw. “I’ll do it, but I have a condition of my own.”
Sandy lifted a brow. “That’s not how this works.”
“I can show you case studies where witnesses wearing wires—”
“Jesus, Harlan,” Sandy muttered. “What is it that you want?” Sandy turned her attention to Grant.
“My sisters come with me,” Grant said.
“She might feel ganged up on.” Sandy twisted her lower back, stretching. “We can’t have her feeling ambushed. I don’t believe we’ll have more than one shot at this.”
Riley’s stomach flipped. “Besides, Mom won’t talk when I'm present.”
“Same for me,” Erin said. “Maybe if I hadn’t left Chad, but that’s not the case.”
“Can they listen in?” Grant asked. “This may seem like an odd request. But I need to know they’re on the other end. I can’t have any more secrets with my sisters. They need to hear every word. Not just from my mother but also from me.”
Sandy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not protocol and not necessarily my call.”
“I hate to break it to you,” Harlan said. “Nothing about this is standard. It’s not like he’s asking you for the moon. Just for his sisters to be in the van. I believe you and the feds can make that work.”
“It’s also the only way I’ll agree to it,” Grant said. “Knowing my sisters are with me will give me the strength I need to make my mother face the truth.”
Silence stretched, thick as molasses.
Finally, Sandy exhaled. “I’ll talk to the Feds. But don’t go near her until I say so.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Grant said.
“And keep the Boones away from Monica,” Sandy said.
“As long as we stay around here, that’s an easy one.” Riley couldn’t imagine anyone in Bryson’s family wanting to spend time with Monica willingly.
Sandy’s gaze swept them all. “Keep this quiet. No tipping off Monica or Elizabeth. You do, and this whole thing blows up.” Sandy glanced at her watch. “Harlan, I assume you want to speak with your client. When you’re done, please make your way to the station so we can hammer this out.”
When she left, the silence didn’t break right away.
Erin was the first to speak. “Grant? Are you sure about this? Mom can be… well, you know.”
Grant’s voice softened. “I’m not sure about anything. But I don’t see another way.”
“I agree,” Harlan said. “And while this is shitty because this is your mom, it’s good news for Grant.
I’ve known Sandy a long time. I watched her work with the feds on the arrest of Robert Wilkerson, and she dated him in high school.
She doesn’t do anything on a whim.” He stood, tucking his pad into his briefcase.
“Sandy showed her hand here today. I need to draft some legal documents, talk to the feds, and Sandy again. I need you protected because you’ll end up saying some uncomfortable things to your mom.
But we’ll chat about that when I’ve had a chance to hammer out all these details.
” He moved toward the back door. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we’re nearing the end of this.
Stay strong and stick together.” He slipped out of the house and headed for his vehicle
Riley looked at her brother—the exhaustion etched into his features eased into something that looked similar to hope.
“This is going to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” Grant said softly. “But, at least, I’ll have my sisters. Two people I love dearly.”