CHAPTER TWENTY
Riley turned and stood waiting. Beside her, Ann Marie stood with her notebook poised, ready to capture whatever revelation was about to unfold. The name Evelyn had triggered something in the attorney’s memory—a connection apparently buried beneath years of legal battles and forgotten details.
As she watched, Riley saw recognition settle into the line on his face.
“Mr. Kuhl?” she prompted gently, unwilling to break his concentration yet eager for him to continue.
“There was a fourth woman,” he said, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Not named in the Triad Ventures paperwork, but connected to the mall development. The construction company.”
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“Here,” he said finally, turning the monitor toward them. “A news segment from the groundbreaking ceremony.”
Riley and Ann Marie moved closer to see the video as Kuhl clicked play.
The footage showed a vacant lot surrounded by construction equipment, the earth already scarred by preliminary excavation.
A small stage had been erected at one end, draped with banners proclaiming “Future Home of the Grand Horizon Mall” in bold lettering.
Behind the stage, a chain-link fence separated the construction site from what appeared to be small storefronts and modest homes—the neighborhood that would soon be demolished.
The camera panned across a gathering of well-dressed spectators before focusing on the stage where four women stood in a row, their business attire and confident postures marking them as the event’s central figures.
Riley immediately recognized three of them from photographs she had studied during the investigation—Margaret Thornfield, Victoria Ashworth, and Amanda Sterling, all younger but unmistakable.
All three now dead at a murderer’s hands.
A reporter’s voice narrated over the footage: “Today marks the official groundbreaking for what developers are calling the most ambitious retail project in Chicago’s recent history. The Grand Horizon Mall represents a four-hundred-million-dollar investment in the city’s economic future.”
The camera zoomed in as Margaret Thornfield stepped forward, her dark hair swept into an elegant updo. Radiating confidence, she plunged a ceremonial golden shovel into a prepared mound of dirt.
Then camera flashes illuminated her satisfied smile as she addressed the audience.
“Grand Horizon will create over two thousand jobs and generate millions in tax revenue for our city,” she declared, her voice smooth with conviction.
“What was once an underutilized area will become a vibrant center of commerce and community.”
The footage cut to Victoria Ashworth, who took her turn with the shovel. Amanda Sterling followed, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she performed the same symbolic gesture.
Then the camera shifted to the fourth woman—tall, with sharp features and auburn hair cut in a practical bob.
The reporter’s voice identified her: “Joining the Triad Ventures partners today is Evelyn Caldwell, newly appointed CEO of Caldwell & Sons Construction, which will be building the Grand Horizon Mall.”
The woman stepped forward, her movements precise and controlled as she took the shovel. The reporter continued: “Caldwell marks the first female chief executive in her family’s century-old construction business, taking over after her father’s retirement earlier this year.”
Victoria Ashworth’s voice could be heard as she stepped close to Evelyn: “We’re particularly delighted to have Evelyn joining us today. There’s a delicious irony in a woman running a company with ‘Sons’ in the name, don’t you think?”
Polite laughter rippled through the crowd as Evelyn Caldwell offered a tight smile. “Sometimes tradition and progress can coexist,” she replied diplomatically before driving the shovel into the earth with more force than seemed necessary for the ceremonial gesture.
The camera panned back to show all four women standing together as photographers captured the moment.
Behind them, through a gap in the decorative backdrop, Riley could just make out the weathered sign of what appeared to be a small winery—Crimson Grove, partially visible until the camera angle changed.
Kuhl paused the video, freezing the frame on the four women’s faces.
“Evelyn Caldwell,” he said, tapping the screen.
“Her company got the construction contract. She wasn’t technically part of Triad Ventures, but her firm was integral to the mall’s development.
Without her company’s reputation and resources, the project might never have moved forward. ”
Riley felt the familiar quickening of her pulse that came when pieces of an investigation suddenly aligned. “Was Evelyn Caldwell named in your lawsuit, Mr. Kuhl?”
The attorney shook his head slowly. “No, her company was just the contractor, not the developer. But locals certainly associated her with the project.” He closed the video file.
“Caldwell & Sons had a sterling reputation before this. After the controversy, some in the community felt she had betrayed her roots. The Caldwells had built half the family-owned businesses in that neighborhood over the decades.”
Ann Marie was already making notes. “Do you know if Evelyn Caldwell is still in Chicago? Still running the construction company?”
“As far as I know, yes to both,” Kuhl replied. “Caldwell & Sons has only grown since the Grand Horizon project. They’re one of the largest construction firms in the Midwest now.”
Riley stood, her mind already racing ahead to the next steps. “Mr. Kuhl, you’ve been enormously helpful. May we have a copy of that video file?”
“Of course.” He transferred the file to a USB drive and handed it to Riley. “I hope this helps you prevent another tragedy. Whoever is targeting these women apparently harbors deep resentment about the mall development. If Evelyn Caldwell is next on his list…”
Riley thanked him, and then she and Ann Marie made their way through the corridors of the law firm and into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Ann Marie turned to Riley, her eyes wide.
“That has to be the Evelyn on Veach’s whiteboard. The timing, the connection to the mall, and the other victims—it fits.”
Riley’s thoughts were already organizing themselves into action items. “We need to contact Callahan immediately, then reach out to Evelyn Caldwell’s office. If our timeline holds, Veach could be moving against her today.”
The elevator doors opened onto the lobby, and they walked briskly through the space, past the receptionist who had initially questioned their unscheduled visit. Outside, the sun was bright on Michigan Avenue, where pedestrians moved along the sidewalk, unaware of the race against time taking place.
As they reached their rental car, Riley pulled out her phone and dialed Callahan’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“Callahan.”
“It’s Agent Paige,” she said, sliding into the driver’s seat as Ann Marie entered the passenger side.
“You’re on speaker. We’ve identified Evelyn—Evelyn Caldwell, CEO of Caldwell & Sons Construction.
Her company built the Grand Horizon Mall.
She was at the groundbreaking ceremony with all three victims.”
“That fits,” Callahan replied, urgency evident in his voice.
“Hang on a sec.” After a moment, he returned, “I’ve got something too.
We dug deeper into Veach’s background, and it turns out Veach isn’t his original last name.
It was his mother’s maiden name. He legally changed it from Thomas Kilkenny in 2013. ”
Riley again felt the sensation of puzzle pieces clicking into place.
“Kilkenny,” Callahan continued. “The name rang a bell immediately. They were a notorious family of bootleggers during Prohibition—ran an elaborate operation on the South Side, complete with hidden rooms and secret passages for moving and storing liquor. Just like Shaw said, Veach had mentioned.”
“That probably does explain how he gained access to Victoria Ashworth’s home without triggering alarms,” Riley noted.
“There’s more,” Callahan added. “Thomas Kilkenny worked at a winery from 2001 until its closure.”
“The Crimson Grove Winery?” Riley asked.
“That’s right. How did you guess?”
“It’s turned up on our radar too,” Riley said. “What did he do there?”
“He was their chief vineyard worker, responsible for cultivating the grapes and overseeing production.”
The final piece clicked into place in Riley’s mind. “He wasn’t just someone who lost a job when the winery closed. He lost his heritage, his family legacy, in a way, from bootlegging to legitimate winemaking. And then back to operating in shadows and secrets again when it was all taken away.”
“That tracks with what we found in his apartment,” Callahan confirmed. “The unlabeled bottles, the meticulous notes on wine types. He’s been planning this for a long time, saving vintages to use against the women he blames for destroying Crimson Grove.”
Ann Marie leaned closer to the phone. “Did you find any connection between Thomas Kilkenny and Ila Garrett, the winery owner?”
“Nothing in official records,” Callahan replied. “But I spoke with a former employee who remembered him. Said Thomas was like a son to Ila. She had no family left, and he had a troubled relationship with his own parents. They formed a bond over the years he worked there.”
“So when Ila lost everything and eventually drank herself to death, Thomas Kilkenny—now Thomas Veach—set out for revenge against the women he held responsible,” Riley summarized, the pattern now clear. “Margaret Thornfield, Victoria Ashworth, Amanda Sterling, and now, Evelyn Caldwell.”
The three of them fell silent. Four women connected to a development project that had destroyed a historic winery. Three already dead, poisoned with arsenic-laced wine by a man whose life had been shattered by their business decisions. And the fourth potentially in his sights at this very moment.
“We need to warn her immediately,” Riley said.
“If it’s not already too late,” Ann Marie said, finishing her thought.