Chapter 14 - THE STORY NOLAN TELLSNolan entered Raymond’s office with Grace Whitman watching.
“You’ll remain in the room?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“This is my father’s private office.”
“And you requested access after his disappearance.”
“I’m looking for personal documents.”
“What kind?”
“Family.”
Grace folded her arms.
“Be specific.”
Nolan hated her.
“Letters.”
“Which letters?”
He turned.
“Do you interrogate everyone?”
“Only people trying to access a missing chairman’s office during an active investigation.”
Nolan forced a smile.
“Fair.”
He opened drawers.
Nothing.
Desk cabinet.
Nothing.
Bookshelf safe.
Locked.
Grace watched.
“What exactly are you expecting to find?”
“My father kept estate notes.”
“Elliot has estate documents.”
“Not all.”
Grace’s expression sharpened.
“How do you know?”
Nolan stopped.
Another mistake.
“I’ve seen them before.”
“Recently?”
“No.”
He moved toward the desk.
The envelope was gone.
Good.
Or bad.
If Elliot had it, there might be evidence.
If Raymond had hidden it, impossible.
Nolan opened a side drawer and found an old photograph.
Himself at age nine.
Raymond beside him on a sailboat.
For a moment, the room disappeared.
Nolan remembered that day.
He had been terrified of the wind.
Raymond had put one hand over his on the tiller.
“You don’t fight the boat. You feel what it’s telling you.”
Nolan dropped the photograph.
Grace looked at him.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
He closed the drawer.
“What happened between you and your father?”
Nolan turned.
“Nothing.”
“People rarely search a missing man’s office for estate papers when nothing happened.”
Nolan’s face hardened.
“You don’t know my family.”
“No.”
Grace looked at the photograph.
“But I knew your father.”
“Did you?”
“Better professionally than personally.”
“Then stay professional.”
He left.
Outside, reporters waited.
Nolan decided to speak.
His attorney advised against it.
He did anyway.
“My father loved the ocean.”
Cameras clicked.
“He was happy that afternoon.”
Another flash.
“I left him at the bow after giving him a birthday surprise. I believed he was following me back.”
A reporter shouted:
“What surprise?”
“A watch.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you blindfold him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make the surprise fun.”
“Did he remove the blindfold?”
“Yes.”
The lie was now public.
Another reporter:
“Did your father drink alcohol?”
“A small amount.”
That was a change from the earlier implication.
“Was he impaired?”
“No.”
Claire watched the broadcast from Raymond’s hospital room.
“He’s cleaning the story.”
Raymond nodded.
“Of course.”
“He stopped suggesting you were drunk.”
“Because witnesses contradicted him.”
Another reporter asked:
“Did you argue?”
“No.”
“Was Raymond planning to remove you from Halstead Pacific?”
Nolan froze.
There.
The cameras caught it.
“I won’t discuss private company matters.”
“Did he change his will?”
“No comment.”
“Were you in debt?”
Nolan stepped away.
Statement over.
Raymond watched his son disappear into the building.
“He knows the financial story is coming.”
Claire said:
“He still doesn’t know you’re alive.”
“No.”
“Does any part of you want to call him?”
Raymond looked at the silent television.
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because I don’t know which father would be calling.”
“What does that mean?”
“The father who wants the truth?”
He paused.
“Or the father who wants to hear Nolan say something that makes this less terrible.”
Claire sat.
“You’re allowed to want that.”
“Wanting is not the problem.”
Raymond looked down at his hands.
“Believing whatever he says because I need it to be true would be.”
Meanwhile, Nolan returned to his hotel.
Marcus was waiting again.
“You’re becoming difficult to meet.”
“You’re becoming difficult to ignore.”
Marcus sat.
“Your father’s debt rescue.”
Nolan froze.
“What?”
“I heard Raymond planned to restructure your obligations.”
“From whom?”
“Elliot has been talking to investigators.”
Nolan stared.
“He was going to pay?”
“Apparently some.”
Nolan sat slowly.
His entire body felt numb.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcus watched him.
“You really didn’t know.”
Nolan did not answer.
Marcus understood something.
“What happened on that yacht?”
“Nothing.”
“Nolan.”
“Nothing.”
Marcus stood.
“I have spent thirty years around desperate men.”
He buttoned his jacket.
“They usually make their worst decision five minutes before finding out they had another option.”
Nolan stared at him.
“Get out.”
Marcus did.
Nolan remained alone.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
No voice.
Only breathing.
“Nolan?”
Silence.
“Who is this?”
Still nothing.
Then a weak male voice said:
“Happy birthday.”
Nolan dropped the phone.
The line disconnected.
He stared at the screen.
Unknown number.
His hands shook.
Impossible.
Unless—
No.
He called back.
Number unavailable.
Nolan stood in the hotel room listening to his own breathing.
His father was dead.
May you like
Had to be.
But for the first time, Nolan was no longer certain.
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