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Chapter 107
publish date:
2026-05-24 13:28:21Mason's POV
The penthouse was quiet at seven in the morningSelina was still asleep. The baby had settled at five and not yet stirred. The harbour was doing its grey, indifferent thing through the floor-to-ceiling glass, and I was on the sofa with my coffee and my phone...I opened my phone feed.The first post appeared four scrolls in.Catherine Voss, tagged by her daughter Olive, standing in a room full of white fabric samples
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Alex's POVI was at my desk by six-thirty....The office was empty at this hour.I had access codes for the financial archive that Maya's team had been maintaining across the months of my absence... the standing arrangement between Voss Maritime and Hargrove Meridian that had been formalised before the wedding and that had continued operating through everything that followed.I opened the archive.Started readingThe reports covered six months.Not the operational reports... the transaction records..Most of the transactions were ordinary.The ordinary business of a maritime company running its operations and fulfilling its obligations and managing its accounts was significant in volume and in regularity.... the kind of financial activity that produced a pattern, that communicated its own nature through its consistency.The ones that didn't fit the pattern were not obvious at first.Three payments.Not small.Eight figures.Each one authorised with documentation that
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Unknown POV The building did not announce itself. That was by design. The conference room on the forty-third floor was different from the rooms below it only in its view. Eight chairs around the table.... Seven of them occupied. The eighth at the head, empty. The men who sat in the first seven chairs did not occupy conference rooms very often. They sat. They did not speak. They waited The door opened at the head. The oldest man in the room. Mid-seventies.... He moved to the head of the table. Sat. Looked at the room. Waited for the room to begin. "The investigator is dead," one man said. A statement, not a report. The distinction communicated that everyone in the room already had this information and that naming it was procedural rather than informational. "But the daughter hasn't stopped," another said. A pause "The materials he assembled are with the detective." "And with her...." "The lighthouse materials are confirmed received and logg
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Maya's POV We arrived at ten. The funeral service had been arranged by Carter's family... small, as he would have wanted... Forty people, perhaps. His wife. Two adult children... Fellow investigators. Officers. A handful of people whose relationship to Carter I didn't know and who had come because they had known him in contexts that existed outside the work I had known him through. And us. Alex's hand in mine throughout the service. The coffin was polished wood. I looked at it Thought about Keswick Street, where a man had stepped out of a black car and had told Carter he should have left the past buried. Thought about the envelope Carter had protected in the ambulance, which had arrived in my hands through the chain of custody he had established before he lost consciousness, which had contained everything... the names, the records, the photographs, the access log. Everything. And Carter, who had assembled it and had been on his way to deliver it. The weight
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Carter's POV Pain first. The chest primarily. I lay still Let the ceiling become real. Let the sounds become identifiable. The machines.... The rhythmic monitoring of a body that was being watched more carefully than bodies usually were. I was in a hospital I had been on a street. I had said no to a man who told me I should have left the past buried. He had taken a step toward me And then.... The ceiling. Maya The thought arrived before anything else had finished assembling.... before I had confirmed the extent of the damage, before I had assessed the room, before I had determined how long I had been here or what had happened after the street. Maya. The envelope had been in my hand I had been on my way to deliver it. I had been on a street called Keswick. A man had stepped toward me. The envelope I did not know where the envelope was. The nurse appeared at the edge of my vision.... Young, and professional... "You're awake," she said. "Yes,
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