Chapter 9 - The Second PhoneFor six hours, Grant believed Corinne might come for Sadie.
Uniformed deputies remained outside the guest cottage.
Sadie noticed.
“Why are police here?”
Grant refused to lie.
“Corinne left somewhere without telling anyone.”
Sadie immediately went pale.
“She knows I’m here?”
“No.”
“You don’t know.”
Grant’s silence answered.
Sadie stood.
“I want to leave.”
“Okay.”
“Now.”
“Okay.”
He did not tell her she was overreacting.
Within twenty minutes, they moved to an undisclosed hotel under sheriff’s supervision.
Grant hated the secrecy.
Sadie hated elevators.
The enclosed space reminded her of falling because her stomach moved strangely when the elevator descended.
Grant learned this after she began hyperventilating between floors six and five.
He stopped using elevators.
They took stairs afterward.
That evening, Ortiz called.
Reid had not fled the state.
His vehicle had been found at Denver International Airport, but no record showed him boarding a commercial flight.
Corinne’s car had been discovered near a private storage facility in Aurora.
Inside the storage unit police found suitcases, cash, forged identification documents, and several encrypted drives.
But Corinne was not there.
Neither was Reid.
One discovery mattered more than the others.
A phone hidden inside the lining of a travel bag.
The second phone contained messages Corinne had believed were isolated from her normal accounts.
They went back nearly three years.
Before her marriage to Grant.
Grant sat in a secure interview room when Ortiz showed him selected excerpts.
REID: He’ll never sell while Dana’s trust has blocking power.
CORINNE: Then give me time.
Another.
CORINNE: He trusts me now. Sadie doesn’t.
REID: Kids adapt.
Then six months later:
CORINNE: The girl is the only problem.
Grant pushed the phone away.
“I can’t.”
Ortiz stopped scrolling.
He stood and walked to the far corner of the room.
“She was talking about my daughter like an obstacle.”
Ortiz waited.
Grant turned.
“Keep going.”
“You don’t have to read everything.”
“I do.”
Another exchange was from two months before the cliff.
REID: Northcove expires in September. We need control before then.
CORINNE: Grant will never move against Sadie’s trust.
REID: Then the trust has to terminate naturally.
Corinne responded ten minutes later.
CORINNE: I may have a way.
Grant’s face changed.
Ortiz continued carefully.
The next messages discussed Granite Crown.
Not the mechanics of harming Sadie.
But timing.
Weather.
A morning when Grant would be occupied in a board meeting.
A property where Corinne knew Sadie was frightened of heights.
Then one message from Reid:
No witnesses.
Grant stared at the screen.
“Charge him.”
“We will.”
“He planned it.”
“Yes.”
“And Corinne?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are they still free?”
“Because they ran before warrants were completed.”
Grant laughed without humor.
“Of course.”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“There’s something you need to understand. Running helps demonstrate consciousness of guilt. The evidence is getting stronger, not weaker.”
“My daughter won’t care about legal strategy if Corinne appears outside the hotel.”
“We won’t let that happen.”
Grant wanted to believe her.
At the hotel, Sadie sat cross-legged on the bed watching television without paying attention.
Mara knocked.
Grant let her inside.
She carried a small envelope.
“This came from your house.”
“What is it?”
“Housekeeper found it behind a drawer while deputies searched Corinne’s dressing room.”
Sadie looked over.
Grant opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Grant and Dana on their wedding day.
Sadie, three years old, sat between them.
On the back Dana had written:
Whatever happens, never let fear decide who our daughter becomes.
Grant stared at the handwriting.
Sadie climbed off the bed.
“Mom wrote that?”
“Yes.”
“Why did Corinne have it?”
Grant flipped the photograph.
A second note had been written beneath Dana’s.
Different ink.
Different handwriting.
Corinne’s.
Fear makes people controllable.
Grant felt sick.
Sadie read it.
Her expression changed.
“She knew.”
“What?”
“That I was scared.”
Grant looked at her.
“She used it.”
Sadie handed the photograph back.
“Don’t throw it away.”
“I won’t.”
“No. I mean don’t throw away Mom’s part because of Corinne’s part.”
Grant stared at his daughter.
Something about the sentence struck him.
Corinne had entered their house.
Their memories.
Their company.
Their grief.
She had tried to contaminate everything that came before her.
Sadie would not let her.
Grant put the photograph carefully inside the envelope.
That night, police received an alert.
Corinne’s second phone had briefly connected to a cellular tower outside Colorado Springs.
Ortiz sent units toward the location.
They found a motel room.
Empty.
On the table was a printed copy of the Northcove agreement.
Beside it sat a handwritten note.
Not to Grant.
To Reid.
If you leave me holding this alone, I’ll give them everything.
May you like
Detective Ortiz stared at it.
The conspiracy was beginning to fracture.
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