Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
GRANT
G rant’s heart pounded as he replayed the robotic voice over and over again. With a shaky hand, he scrawled down the address the voice had given him and slid the note into his pocket.
“Sir?” Worthington asked, his features pinched.
“That was…someone. I don’t know who. They used a voice changer. But they gave me an address.”
The color drained from Worthington’s face as he stared at Grant with wide eyes. “Surely, you are not considering going to it.”
“Of course, I am,” Grant said as he rose from his chair. “This could be the break we need. And believe me, Worthington, we need a break.”
“I understand, sir, but what if this isn’t the break you are searching for.”
Grant crossed the room and swung a painting away from the wall, revealing a safe. “I’ll take any break at this point.”
“Surely, you’ll take protection. James? Or Max?” Worthington asked.
Grant finished keying in the code for the safe and flung it open, tugging a pistol from inside. He waved it in the air. “I’m taking protection.”
“But, sir–“
“Don’t but sir me, Worthington,” he answered as he closed the safe. “They said to come alone.”
“Another reason not to believe them. This could be a terrible idea.”
“And it could break this wide open. I’m going.”
“Mr. Harrington–“
“Worthington, I’m going. Do you think Julia hesitated even for a second before she went to that abandoned warehouse?”
Worthington followed him into the foyer as he slid the gun into his waistband. “She took James.”
“Or when she followed Alexander Knight?”
“Dr. Carter was with her.”
“Fine, when she followed Christopher Metcalfe,” Grant said, flinging his arms out. Why couldn’t his butler understand the urgency here?
“And might I remind you those results were disastrous.”
“But we got information. I’m sick of Julia risking her life for every lead. My turn. I’m going. And I only have sixty minutes to get there. Less now.” He glanced at his watch and shook his head. He’d barely make it. “I have to go.”
“Should I tell Mrs. Harrington what’s happened?”
“No, not yet. I don’t want to worry her. She has enough to deal with between Sierra and Kyle.”
“At least give me the address you are going to, just in case.”
Grant heaved a sigh before he dug into his pocket. With his phone, he snapped a picture of the note he’d scrawled, then shoved the paper toward Worthington. “Here. But no interference, Worthington. None.”
“Of course not, sir. Not unless…something goes awry.”
“I don’t plan on it.” Grant clapped him on the shoulder, shooting him an eager grin before he tugged open the front door.
“The best-laid plans, sir…” Worthington’s voice answered as he hurried toward the garage.
He wondered if this would only lead him to Lydia again. Perhaps the caller didn’t know he knew. How would they? They’d been careful.
Julia had played her role well. No one would know. He’d be disappointed if this led back to Lydia with no new information, but then again, maybe it would free him to take a more aggressive approach.
He reached the garage and tapped in his key code to enter the door. The dark shapes of his more than two dozen cars filled the large space.
With a flick of a switch, lights blinked to life. He stared out over the vast array of material goods he’d accumulated. None of it meant anything if they couldn’t stop Lydia from ruining him, Sierra, or both. Or if he lost Julia.
He shook his head at the last thought as he crossed to the key bank and grabbed the key fob for his Mercedes. His heart thudded as he slid behind the wheel.
He flicked his gaze in the rearview mirror, catching the deep lines etched into his forehead as worry consumed him. They needed to make headway on this before it drowned them all.
The garage door slowly rolled open as he fired the engine. He wondered if his daughter was inside the house connected to the garage. Had she sought comfort in James’s arms?
If she had, he hoped the man provided it. If not, maybe Julia could. Sierra’s attachment to his wife was heartwarming. He’d never seen Sierra give so much of her heart to someone.
And he understood the impulse completely. He’d never given so much of his heart to someone either. His jaw flexed as he recalled his misstep earlier with his son when he’d admitted his feelings for Julia.
He shook his head. With any luck, he’d soon have more information, and they’d be able to put all this nonsense with DG Industries behind them. Then, he’d tell Julia the truth. And they’d ride off into the sunset together.
The corners of his lips tugged up as he sped toward the address he’d been given. He could start his life anew and move forward, genuinely happy for the first time. Countless times in the past, he had thought he'd found happiness, only to realize it was all just an illusion.
His mind shifted to the image of Julia smiling at him over a lovely dinner. On the other side of him, Sierra grinned, happy to see them together.
The smile on his face faded as Kyle leaned around Julia, a smirk on his face. “Never going to happen, Dad.”
The image dissolved as his eyes narrowed, and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. The stinging words from his son wounded him deeply. Maybe Julia wouldn’t accept him. He’d never wooed a woman like her before. Was the reason for that because he couldn’t?
He shook the negative thoughts from his mind, allowing his thoughts to turn to the task ahead. What would he find when he arrived at 237 Crescent Drive?
A pang of panic twisted his gut as he closed in on the address. What if Worthington’s suspicions proved correct and this was a mistake?
He tightened his grip on the wheel again, fidgeting in his seat. He’d be smart and safe. But he couldn’t let this opportunity slip by. Julia had already taken enough chances trying to solve this issue. Now it was his turn.
He slowed to a stop outside of the address. The place looked abandoned. The perfect place for a discreet meeting to pass along information about DG Industries. Or to take him by surprise.
He let his hand slide along the butt of his gun. No one was going to get the jump on him. He killed the engine, ducking his head to stare out at the brick building again. A light gleamed from within.
His heart thudded, a mix of anticipation and dread swirling in his gut. His mind raced with possibilities of who waited inside for him, each possibility more unsettling than the last.
He threw open his door and stepped out into the cool night air. It brushed past his skin, heightening his senses as a chill snaked down his spine.
His eyes narrowed at the building. Something unsettled him about this, though he still planned to get answers. Before he did, though, he reached into his pocket for his phone.
After tugging it free, he dialed Worthington’s number.
“Sir?” the man answered after the first ring. “Have you found anything?”
“I’m just about to go inside. Just as a precaution, I’m going to keep you on the line. Stay quiet, though. I don’t want them to think someone else is here.”
“I understand, sir.”
Grant toggled on his flashlight as he approached the building. He scanned the area slowly, his throat parching as the light glinted off a metal door that had been propped open.
“I see a door. It’s open,” Grant whispered. “But I’m going to circle the building first.”
He received no response. Good. Worthington was playing the game well.
He whispered to the man again. “I’m going to turn on the video chat. I want you to record it.”
“Understood,” the man hissed in a barely audible voice.
Grant toggled on his camera.
“Recording now,” Worthington reported.
Grant swallowed hard as he finished his circle of the building. He’d found nothing, not even another car. How had the person inside gotten here? He must have used a cab or a ride-share. Probably so nothing could be traced like a license plate.
“I’m heading inside.”
He inched toward the door, bracing his phone against his gun as he raised it, keeping it at arm’s length.
He stepped over the threshold and scanned the space in search of anyone or anything. Sweat beaded on his brow as he followed the glow of the light down a hall.
“Nothing so far,” he whispered. “Maybe this is just a distraction, and there’s nothing here.”
His heart thudded in his ears so loudly he worried he’d miss a key sound that could alert him to impending danger. He stopped his slow stalk forward, wiping at his brow in a desperate attempt to settle his nerves.
With a hard swallow, he forced himself to move forward again. His muscles ached and a knot formed between his shoulder blades as the tension inside him manifested physically.
He forced his breathing to be slow and steady as he approached the light glowing from a room at the end of the hall.
As he approached the partially ajar door, he called out. “Hello?”
No one answered him. “Who’s in there?”
Again, he received no answer.
He firmed his voice and tried a third time. “This is Grant Harrington. I came alone like you said.”
He used his shoulder to push the door open a little more. It creaked on its hinges, sending a shudder down his spine as he swept his light and gun around the room.
In the center, the single light swinging from the ceiling glinted off a beat-up desk with an equally dilapidated leather desk chair, its back facing the door.
“Hello?” Grant called. “It’s Grant Harrington. Why did you call me here?”
Frustration grew in him as he took a slow step forward toward the desk. “Look, I’m tired of your little game here. If you have information on DG Industries, tell me.”
Every step echoed ominously off the bare brick walls, the silence around him unnervingly thick. A sense of foreboding gripped him, the stillness of the building punctuated only by his own ragged breaths. “Come on, this is ridiculous. I did what you said. I came where you told me to come alone. Now what information do you have?”
He reached the desk and skirted around it, giving it a wide berth. As he circled, he spotted someone in the chair.
“Hey, what kind of game are you playing here?”
He took a few steps closer, his eyebrows pinching as he stared at the shocked expression on the man’s face. He recognized Christopher Metcalfe, though the man’s features were twisted in agony.
“Are you getting this?”
“Yes, sir,” Worthington whispered.
Grant let his light fall to the man’s chest. The sight before him sent a holt of horror through his veins. Backing away, he stumbled, his breath catching in his throat. Christopher Metcalfe lay lifeless, a knife protruding grotesquely from his chest. The image seared into Grant’s mind, disbelief and horror washing over him in a chilling wave.
He’d been brought directly to the scene of a murder. His knees wobbled as his stomach clenched. His mind desperately tried to determine if he’d touched anything. Could they tie him to this? Was this another setup?
“He’s dead.” Grant gasped as he aimed the camera at the man again. “He’s dead, Worthington.”
“Shall I call the police, sir?”
Grant’s mind raced. It was the right thing to do, but his tenuous relationship with the police made him reluctant. If they found him here with the body, they’d surely arrest him. The last thing he needed was another arrest.
“No, not yet. I think I should get out of here first. But I want to take a quick look around for some clues.”
“Clues, sir? What do you expect to find?”
“I don’t know. Was it Metcalfe who called me here and someone killed him to stop him from talking or is this a setup?”
“Perhaps, sir, you should leave immediately.”
Grant wiped a handkerchief from his pocket and approached the body. “I’ll be quick. I need to see if he has anything on him.”
He shifted to the desk, tugging open the drawers. They were all empty.
“Damn it,” he said with a sigh.
He eyed the body, bile rising into his throat. His nose wrinkled as he leaned closer and rifled through the man’s pockets. His spirits lifted as his fingers, through the handkerchief, hit a solid object.
“I found something,” Grant said, his voice betraying his excitement. He tugged the object from the man’s pocket. “It’s his phone and a scrap of paper. This could give us some clues.” He shoved the paper into his pocket as he focused on the phone.
“Perhaps you should–”
“Shh, I heard something,” Grant hissed as he hurried to click off his flashlight and retreat into a dark corner.
Quiet footsteps approached him. He swallowed hard, readying his weapon in case the killer had returned. Instead, several police officers swarmed the room a moment later. Chaos erupted as they spotted the body before the flare of their flashlights landed on Grant.
“Hands up, drop the weapon!” the lead officer shouted.
“I’m innocent,” Grant protested, his voice laced with urgency. “I received a call that led me here. I found him like this, I swear. I was just looking for clues.”
“Hands up, drop your weapon now!”
Grant swallowed hard as he laid the gun on the ground and raised his hands in the air, a cell phone in each.
“Get down on your knees, drop the phones, and put your hands on your head.”
Grant bobbed his head up and down as he lowered himself to his knees, laid the cell phones next to the gun, and put his hands behind his head.
One of the officers rushed forward and tugged his hands behind his back into handcuffs. Grant shook his head as they hauled him to his feet. “You’re going to the station under suspicion of murder. Let’s go.”
He desperately hoped Worthington had already called Mitchell. But even if he had, as they shoved him into the back of a squad car, he worried about what this would do to Julia. Yet another murder. Yet another dead end. Would they ever get out of this? And if they did, would Julia still be at his side?