Chapter 12
Barrett was standing at the bathroom sink when his phone buzzed on the counter. He had just splashed water on his face and was reaching for a towel. Cadie had gone to her room to shower, and he was planning to do the same.
He picked up the phone and read the text from Cadie: Come now. Need help.
Barrett dropped the towel and was out the door in three seconds.
He didn't bother with shoes. He moved down the hallway in bare feet with his pulse steady and his mind already running through scenarios.
The corridor was empty and quiet, and the carpet muffled his footsteps as he covered the distance to Cadie's room.
Her door was open. She was standing just inside the threshold with her bag clutched against her chest. Her face was pale, but her eyes were sharp and alert. She wasn't panicking. She was angry.
Barrett stepped past her and scanned the room.
The dresser drawers had been pulled open and their contents displaced.
The closet door was ajar, and the clothes inside had been pushed aside roughly.
The nightstand drawer was open, and the small desk near the window had been disturbed.
The bedcovers were bunched at the foot of the mattress as if someone had lifted the pillows and checked beneath them.
He checked the bathroom, the closet, and the area behind the curtains. No one was there. The room was empty.
He returned and placed his hands on Cadie's shoulders. "Are you hurt?"
"No." She shook her head. "I opened the door and saw it like this. I didn't touch anything."
"Good." He kept his hands on her shoulders for a moment, steadying her. Then he released her and looked around the room again with a more careful eye.
The television was still mounted on the wall. A small jewelry case sat undisturbed on the bathroom counter. Cadie's charger was still plugged into the outlet near the bed. Nothing of obvious value had been taken.
"They weren't here to steal," Barrett said.
Cadie followed his gaze around the room. "Then what were they looking for?"
Barrett looked at the bag she was holding. "That."
Cadie tightened her grip on the strap. The bag contained her aunt's journals, the notebook with the timeline she had built, and the key documents from the estate.
She had carried it with her when she left his room that morning, the same way she had carried it to dinner the night before and to every meeting since arriving in Charleston.
"You had it with you," Barrett said.
"I always have it with me."
He nodded. That habit had just protected the most important evidence in their investigation. If the journals and notebook had been sitting on the desk in her room, they would be gone.
Barrett pulled out his phone. "I'll call hotel security."
He placed the call and gave a brief, clear account of the situation.
Within five minutes, two members of the hotel security team arrived.
Barrett walked them through the room and pointed out the signs of forced entry at the door.
The lock had been manipulated, not broken.
Someone had used a tool to bypass the electronic lock, which meant they had come prepared.
"This wasn't a random break-in," Barrett told the security manager, a heavyset man in a dark suit who'd introduced himself as Ray Dalton. "Nothing was taken. The room was searched."
Dalton examined the door and the lock mechanism. "We'll pull the camera footage from this floor and the stairwells. If someone came up here during the night, we should have them on video."
"How difficult would it be to bypass one of these locks?" Barrett asked.
Dalton hesitated. "For someone who knows what they're doing, it wouldn't take long. These are standard hotel locks, not high security."
Barrett filed that away. The lock bypass suggested someone with experience or resources. It wasn't the work of a random opportunist. Someone had sent a professional to search Cadie's room while she was away for the night.
The timing was precise. Whoever did this knew that Cadie had not returned to her room. That meant she was being watched, or someone had been monitoring her movements through the hotel.
Barrett turned to Dalton. "Ms. Ladd will be staying in my room for the duration of her visit. I'd like her room kept locked and undisturbed until the police can inspect it."
Dalton nodded and made a note. "I'll flag the room in our system to indicate no housekeeping and no access."
"Thank you," Barrett said.
Cadie had been standing near the window while Barrett handled the security team. She had not said much, but the color was returning to her face. She seemed to be dealing with the shock.
After Dalton and his partner left, Barrett closed the door and turned to Cadie.
"Let's gather what you need from here," he said. "Clothes, toiletries, anything you want for the next few days. Just be careful not to move anything else."
Cadie moved through the room and collected her things. She packed her suitcase with clothes and gathered her toiletries from the bathroom counter. Barrett carried the suitcase, and Cadie kept her bag over her shoulder.
They walked back to his room together. Barrett held the door for her, and she put her things on the chair near the window.
Then Barrett watched Cadie arrange her toiletries in the bathroom.
She moved with purpose, placing each item in a specific spot, creating order in a way that he understood.
When the world felt out of control, you organized what you could.
"Take your time getting ready," he said. "The meeting isn't for a couple of hours. I thought we could go for a walk first."
Cadie looked at him from the bathroom doorway.
"I think we could both use fresh air and a change of scenery."
*****
Cadie sat on the sofa to compose herself as Barrett quickly showered and dressed.
Then, while Cadie got ready in the bathroom, Barrett used the time to send a text to Detective Sullivan. He informed him of the break-in and asked him to get the security footage.
Sullivan replied: Noted. Will coordinate with hotel. Keep her close.
Barrett didn't need that reminder.
When Cadie emerged from the bathroom, she looked composed and steady, though Barrett could sense lingering tension.
He escorted her out of the hotel through the front entrance. The air carried the scent of jasmine from a garden nearby. Sunlight fell across the brick sidewalk, and the street was quiet. A few pedestrians moved along the opposite side, and a couple walked arm in arm near the corner.
Barrett fell into step beside Cadie and carried her bag for her. Out of habit, he stayed alert to the environment. It was the kind of vigilance that had been drilled into him years ago and had never left.
He embraced the simple pleasure of Cadie's company. As she walked, her arm brushed against his. He reached for her hand, and she accepted the gesture.
The historic district felt familiar, with its iron gates, garden walls, and the soft colors of old plaster. A church steeple rose above the roofline ahead, and a bird sang from the branch of a magnolia tree.
"How are you doing?" Barrett said.
Cadie took a breath. "I'm more angry than anything."
"Good."
She glanced at him. "Good?"
"Angry means you're not scared. Angry means you're thinking clearly." He squeezed her hand gently. "You handled it well back there."
"I didn't do much. You took care of everything."
"You kept your head. You didn't touch anything in the room. You texted me immediately. And you had the journals with you. That's the most important thing."
Cadie was quiet for a moment. "I've been carrying that bag everywhere since I arrived. At first, it was just habit. Now I understand why I couldn't leave it behind."
"Your instincts are good," Barrett said. "Trust them."
"But how did anyone know about the journals, or that they are so important?"
"My guess," Barrett said, "is that no one knows that."
Cadie's eyes widened.
"It's more likely the room break-in was just to scare you," Barrett said. "If it had the intended effect, you might sell the property rapidly so you can go home." He paused. "But I don't believe that anyone knows what we do, or suspects that we have evidence."
"If anyone did," Cadie said, "then I imagine there would be a threat to deal with."
"Well, I've been working with Detective Sullivan to effectively handle the source of any threat. And to conclude this investigation."
They turned a corner and walked along a quieter street lined with live oaks.
The branches arched overhead and created a canopy of green that filtered the sunlight into shifting patterns on the sidewalk.
Cadie seemed to relax. The morning air and the rhythm of walking were doing what he had hoped they would.
"I want to share something with you," Barrett said. "Before dinner last night, I spent time with Detective Sullivan going over a timeline reconstruction."
Cadie looked up at him.
"We laid out everything we have in chronological order, including the financial evidence, the witness statements, and the journal entries." Barrett kept his voice even and measured. "When you put it in order, the picture comes into focus."
"Tell me," Cadie said.
Barrett wanted to give her the information in a way that was precise and complete without overwhelming her.
"Kal Davis and Olivia Stewart began meeting approximately seven to eight months before your aunt's death," he said.
"The barista at the coffee shop confirmed regular visits over that period.
They always sat in the back corner. The meetings started around the same time that Kal's business records show consulting fee expenses, and those expenses match the deposits in Olivia's bank account. "
Cadie's hand tightened in his, but she didn't speak.
"The money started flowing from Kal to Olivia at the beginning of that same window," Barrett said. "Five hundred to a thousand dollars every two to three weeks. It added up to approximately eight thousand dollars total over the course of those months."
"And the meetings were regular," Cadie said.
"Until shortly before your aunt's death," Barrett said.
"The barista told me that they stopped coming in about a month to six weeks before the end.
" Barrett paused. "And your aunt's journal entries show her health declining during that same period.
That aligns with the timeline of payments and meetings. "
Cadie was quiet for several steps. "So…they planned it for months." Her voice was steady, but Barrett heard the weight beneath the words.
"That's what the evidence shows. Their actions weren't impulsive."
"Olivia sat with my aunt every day, gave her medications, and cooked her meals." Cadie appeared distressed. "And the whole time, she was meeting with the man who wanted the building."
Barrett waited. He'd learned a long time ago that a person processed difficult information at their own pace, and the worst thing to do was rush them through it.
Cadie walked for another block in silence. The street opened onto a small park with a fountain at its center. Water spilled over a stone basin, and two pigeons perched on the rim. Barrett guided her to a bench beneath one of the oaks and sat beside her. He kept her hand in his.
"There's something I've been thinking about since I saw my room," Cadie said.
"Tell me."
"Who would target me?" She turned to face him on the bench. "Someone sent a person to my hotel room, and that person knew I wouldn't be there last night. That's not random."
Barrett had been expecting the question.
He'd wondered the same thing since the moment he saw the ransacked room.
"It had to be Kal Davis, or more likely, a criminal he hired for the dirty work," he said.
"Kal knows you're here. He knows you inherited the property.
And he knows you haven't agreed to sell. "
Cadie held his gaze. "He's desperate."
"The break-in tells me he's getting more aggressive.
" Barrett leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, keeping his hand in hers.
"Kal has done business in Charleston for years.
He has resources and connections. Sending someone to search your room wouldn't be difficult for him. And the goal was to send a message."
"That I should dump the property as quickly as I can then leave," Cadie said.
"That's my take on it."
Cadie straightened on the bench. "I'm not going anywhere."
Barrett saw the resolve in her expression. She was not a woman who folded under pressure.
"I know you're not," he said, "and I'm going to make sure you don't have to."
He checked his watch. They had been walking for nearly an hour, and the meeting with the forensic expert was approaching.
"We should head back," Barrett said. "The meeting with Dr. Holloway is at eleven."
Cadie stood. "Will the detective be there?"
"Sullivan is off duty this morning, so he won't be attending." Barrett stood beside her. "But he'll get a full report from me. He trusts the process, and Dr. Holloway's expertise."
As they walked back toward the hotel, the streets were busier with tourists and locals moving along the sidewalks and cars passing on the cross streets. Barrett kept Cadie close to his side.
"After the meeting," he said, "we'll have a much better idea about our strategy."