Chapter 7 - The Test That Said Reid Was DrunkBeth obtained the clinic report by noon.
Reid stared at it.
Blood alcohol concentration:
0.11%.
The sample was supposedly collected at 9:20 a.m.
“That’s impossible.”
Beth nodded.
“I assumed.”
“I had coffee.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
“Medication?”
“Blood-pressure medication. Nothing that creates alcohol.”
The report was dated three weeks earlier.
The same day Reid spent the morning at home with Landon and Evan before flying to Chicago in the afternoon.
A 0.11 result would imply significant intoxication.
At breakfast.
While caring for his children.
Perfect evidence for an emergency guardianship petition.
Except Reid had video from a corporate call at 9:40 that morning.
He spoke for forty minutes.
No signs of intoxication.
Three colleagues present.
And airport security footage later.
Beth said:
“We need the original lab chain of custody.”
The clinic resisted.
Then Reid’s attorneys threatened immediate action.
Records arrived.
The sample identification number did not match Reid’s intake form.
Different last digit.
Beth looked up.
“Someone swapped the report.”
“Who?”
The clinic administrator investigated.
One employee had accessed Reid’s file after hours.
A contract nurse.
Name:
Megan Pike.
Reid froze.
“Pike.”
Beth remembered.
“The man at Landon’s school was Mr. Pike.”
They checked.
Megan Pike’s husband was Aaron Pike.
Licensed private investigator.
He had interviewed Landon without Reid’s permission by presenting himself to school staff as a “family welfare consultant.”
Beth’s expression hardened.
“This is organized.”
Reid looked at the documents.
“Who hired the Pikes?”
Payment records led to a consulting firm.
Mercer Advisory Services.
Nolan’s discretionary corporate account.
Reid called his half-brother again.
This time Nolan answered.
“Reid.”
“Come to the house.”
“No.”
“Then I come to you.”
“Don’t.”
Reid almost laughed.
“You forged a plan to take my children and you’re giving me instructions?”
“I didn’t forge anything.”
“You hired Aaron Pike.”
Silence.
“And his wife altered my medical record.”
“I did not authorize that.”
“You paid them.”
“For due diligence.”
“On me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were making decisions affecting four thousand employees while grieving.”
There it was again.
Grief as diagnosis.
Reid’s voice became quiet.
“You could have asked for an independent corporate review.”
“You would have refused.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“No.”
Reid looked at Beth.
“You were afraid I’d say no.”
Silence.
“So you decided my consent was an obstacle.”
Nolan snapped:
“The company is dying.”
“Then make your case to shareholders.”
“I did.”
“And lost.”
“You control twenty-eight percent that isn’t even yours.”
Reid’s expression changed.
“They are my children’s shares.”
“Exactly.”
“You think that gives you a right to manipulate custody?”
“I wanted independent oversight.”
“You named yourself.”
“That wasn’t my draft.”
“Your name appears six times.”
Nolan exhaled.
“Mavis pushed that.”
Reid laughed.
“Convenient.”
“I’m serious.”
“Did you know she was photographing my kids?”
“No.”
“Did you know she was canceling Evan’s appointments?”
“No.”
“Did you know Pike questioned Landon?”
“Yes.”
Reid stopped.
“You knew.”
“It was supposed to be an age-appropriate welfare assessment.”
“Without telling his father.”
“We were trying to determine whether the concern was real.”
“What concern?”
Silence.
“Nolan.”
“You were drinking more.”
Reid stared.
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Mavis said—”
“There.”
Nolan stopped.
“You believed Mavis.”
“She lived there.”
“You wanted to believe Mavis because her story helped your deal.”
“That’s unfair.”
“No.”
Reid’s voice shook.
“You hired people to investigate your brother because I voted against you.”
“I investigated because you weren’t yourself.”
“My wife died.”
“I know.”
“No, you keep saying that like it proves something.”
Nolan went quiet.
Reid continued:
“You knew I was hurting. And instead of asking if I needed help, you asked whether the hurt could remove my vote.”
Silence.
Finally Nolan said:
“I didn’t know about the forged alcohol result.”
Reid believed that might be true.
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mavis?”
“Maybe.”
“Thomas?”
Another silence.
Reid caught it.
“What?”
“Thomas introduced the Pikes.”
Beth looked up.
Reid tightened his grip on the phone.
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“Why?”
“He said if we had legitimate concerns, we needed independent documentation.”
Reid stared.
Thomas again.
The lawyer did not merely draft paperwork.
He connected investigators.
He knew the original trust clause.
He knew Nora suspected Mavis.
Still he built the structure.
“Why is Thomas helping you?”
Nolan didn’t answer.
“Money?”
“No.”
“The sale?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
Nolan’s voice changed.
“Ask him what your father did to his family.”
Reid froze.
“What?”
Nolan hung up.
Beth looked at him.
“What did he say?”
Reid repeated it.
Beth frowned.
Thomas Keene had worked for Everett Mercer for thirty years.
Long before Reid.
If he had a grievance against the Mercer family, Reid had never heard it.
Beth started searching archived litigation.
Corporate records.
Old settlements.
Twenty minutes later, she found a case.
Keene v. Mercer Industrial Holdings.
Thirty-one years ago.
Plaintiff:
William Keene.
Thomas’s father.
Reid leaned closer.
William Keene had been a minority partner in one of Everett’s earliest companies.
He sued, claiming Everett pushed him out using manipulated debt covenants.
The case settled privately.
Two years later, Thomas Keene—
William’s son—
joined Everett’s legal team.
Reid stared.
“Why would my father hire the son of a man who sued him?”
Beth opened another file.
“Maybe because settlement terms required it.”
“No.”
She read.
Then her face changed.
“What?”
“Thomas wasn’t hired by Everett.”
She turned the screen.
“He was hired by Mavis.”
Reid stared.
Date:
May you like
Seventeen years ago.
The same year Mavis married Everett.
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