30. Erik
ERIK
Makari puts the ninth property on the wall screen and crosses it off before Peter finishes reading the address. "Empty for at least twelve hours. The holding company is Zaitsev-linked, and the caretaker says the last vehicle left before midnight."
I stand at the end of the penthouse dining table with Jeremy's decrypted folder open beside Aaron's notebook.
We've been working through every property connected to Orell since before sunrise.
Four houses, two rehabilitation centers, a warehouse, a private training facility, and a resort property in western Massachusetts have all produced the same result.
Orell's people cleared them before our teams arrived.
Coffee has gone cold beside three laptops. Maps cover half the wall screen, while printed corporate records cover enough of the table that Peter has started using the back of a university trustee packet for notes. Nobody has suggested food since breakfast.
Liya closes the payment ledger and turns her laptop toward me. "The foundation paid the rehabilitation estate where Rowan was held."
Makari leaves the screen and comes around the table. "Was it direct?"
"No." Liya enlarges the transaction chain before moving one page aside for him. "A health-and-performance grant went to an athlete support nonprofit. The nonprofit paid a Zaitsev subsidiary for short-term recovery housing, and that subsidiary owns the estate."
Peter rolls his chair closer to read the dates. "When did the grant go through?"
"Six months ago." Liya brings up the original authorization and leaves it open beside the payment chain. "It looked ordinary because the grant itself was legitimate."
Peter reaches for Aaron's notebook, comparing the vendor name against one of the abbreviations in the margins. "Then the estate wasn't improvised after they took Rowan. It was already part of the route."
That matters. Orell didn't find a convenient building after the conference-center trap. He moved Rowan into infrastructure he'd used for years, which means the properties tied to his medical businesses deserve more attention than the safe houses we've spent the morning clearing.
I turn back to Makari. "I want every medical subsidiary Orell has ever touched."
"We're already pulling them." He marks the rehabilitation estate as confirmed and brings up the next corporate tree. "I've got linked entities in three states."
"I want five searched."
Peter glances over the top of Aaron's notebook. "He doesn't own medical companies in five states."
"He owns shell companies in more than five." I point toward the list beside Makari's keyboard. "Search the parent companies too."
Peter accepts the correction without another argument and starts checking registrations. A month ago, he would have spent five minutes explaining why the request was excessive. Rowan disappearing has improved his tolerance for excessive.
Richard arrives twenty minutes later carrying a banker's box and wearing the same suit he had on yesterday. His tie is different, which means somebody in his house still believes appearances matter. He puts the box on the table, removes his coat, and drapes it over the nearest chair.
"These are board files you don't have."
Liya looks at the archive label. "Why don't we have them?"
"They were sealed under outside counsel six years ago." Richard lifts out the first folder and passes it across the table. "They concern waivers for athletes receiving treatment outside approved university providers."
Makari stops working on the map.
I open the folder and find Evelyn Grant's signature on the second page.
The first waiver covers a basketball recruit who received treatment through a private performance center after an undisclosed injury.
Another involves a swimmer whose sponsor required private care.
The third concerns a football player who completed rehabilitation at a Zaitsev-affiliated facility. Evelyn approved every exception.
I put the third file beside the first two. "How many?"
Richard takes a chair opposite Liya. "Twenty-one in this box. Athletics may have more."
Liya starts arranging the files by date. "These cover six years."
Richard pulls another folder from the box. "Apparently."
Peter lowers Aaron's notebook. "Nobody questioned why one law professor approved twenty-one off-campus medical exceptions?"
Richard opens the supporting memorandum and pushes it toward him. "She advised the clinic and sat on the student welfare committee. Every request had an individual justification. Private medical records, sponsorship conflicts, recruitment issues, or treatment continuity."
"Twenty-one individual reasons become a pattern when you put them on one table." Liya turns the oldest waiver toward him.
Richard looks at the papers spread between them. He doesn't need to say he never saw them together before. His irritation has disappeared, replaced by the expression he gets when an institutional process stops protecting him from the information inside it.
Peter sets Aaron's notebook beside the files. "Orell told us at the gala exactly how he works. He doesn't need soldiers when respectable paperwork does the work for him."
Richard looks at him. "You could make that point without sounding pleased."
"I'm not pleased." Peter pushes the first waiver toward the center. "I'm annoyed that he explained the method to our faces and we still kept looking for criminals instead of committees."
I pick up another file with Evelyn's signature and force myself to read the date before putting it down.
For weeks, I considered Richard, Liya, Peter, Vanessa, and Harper while Evelyn sat inside every conversation Rowan trusted.
She knew where Rowan stored evidence. She knew when we found something new.
She knew my recusal terms, Laura's concerns, Callie's schedule, and Harper's access.
"I suspected Harper."
Makari keeps his attention on the screen. "Yes."
"I had Grant inside this case from the first week."
This time he looks at me. "Yes."
I turn another signed waiver, though there is nothing new on the page. "She knew where Rowan kept every file."
Makari pushes his chair back and stands. "You can spend the next hour listing everything you missed, or you can use it to find Rowan."
"I can do both."
"No." He comes around the table and puts the property list in front of me. "You're angry, and you're starting to repeat information we already know. That doesn't improve the search."
Peter glances toward him, then returns to the files before I can catch whatever expression passed between them.
I close Evelyn's folder. Makari is right, which saves us the argument. "What do we have from the man Rowan shot?"
He changes the wall screen from properties to an interview recording.
The man from the conference center appears in a secure room at one of our Connecticut facilities, his shoulder bandaged and his lawyer seated beside him.
State police know where he is, outside counsel preserved the statement, and nobody under my authority has questioned him without representation.
Makari skips past the opening. "He asked for counsel immediately. The interview resumed thirty-eight minutes later under a cooperation agreement."
On the screen, the man gives his name and identifies Rahil Antonov as his direct supervisor. The attorney across from him keeps the questions narrow and the paperwork visible on the table.
"Who planned the conference-center operation?"
"Rahil."
"Who ordered Rowan Bennett moved after she was taken?"
The man adjusts the sling supporting his injured arm. "Rahil."
The attorney puts a property list in front of him. "Where did you move her?"
"A treatment place north of the city. We didn't use addresses." He studies the list for almost a minute before touching one entry. The address matches the rehabilitation estate we already connected to the foundation payment.
I look at Makari. "That confirms the location."
"There's more." He moves the recording forward.
The same attorney has changed pages in his notebook. "Who issued the relocation order after that?"
The prisoner shifts in his chair. "Rahil got a call."
"From whom?"
"I don't know. The number came through offshore routing."
Peter leaves his chair and moves closer to the wall screen, apparently deciding the recorded attorney is too slow. The attorney asks the question Peter wants before he can complain.
"What do you mean by offshore routing?"
"A satellite relay." The prisoner looks toward his lawyer before continuing. "Rahil said the first property was burned. The boss wanted her moved to a treatment site with equipment."
The attorney asks what treatment she needed, but the man has no answer.
Makari pauses the recording.
The elevator opens in the foyer while we are still looking at the frozen image. Serena comes into the dining room carrying a black medical bag she has no reason to need here, which tells me she came directly from work rather than going home first.
She sets the bag beside Liya's computer. "Which properties are still possible?"
Liya hands her the current list. Serena reads it standing, removes one page, and crosses out three locations with a pen she takes from Peter without asking.
Peter watches her eliminate them. "Those are all medical or athletic facilities."
"They're buildings with exam tables." Serena points to the first one she crossed out.
"Rowan is carrying triplets at roughly fourteen weeks.
She was abducted after a fight and then transported at least twice.
If Orell wants her alive, he needs a property with more capability than a massage room and an ice machine. "
I move around the table. "What does he need?"