Chapter 13 - The Man Outside the SchoolSavannah did not return to school.
Charles insisted.
Police agreed.
For now.
She complained.
“You can't keep me inside forever.”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Until Nolan is found.”
Savannah folded her arms.
“That sounds like forever.”
Charles understood.
Eleven months had already taught her what undefined waiting felt like.
“Forty-eight hours, then we reassess.”
“Real reassess?”
“Yes.”
“No adult fake reassess where you've already decided?”
Charles almost smiled.
“Real.”
She accepted.
Then police called.
A man had been seen outside Savannah's school that morning.
Gray SUV.
Parked across street.
Security noticed because he photographed entrances.
License plate stolen.
Vehicle found abandoned three miles away.
Inside:
Nothing.
Except a receipt.
Gas station in Albany.
Nolan's last known region.
Federal investigators believed he was back in Rhode Island.
Charles moved Savannah and Imelda to a secure guest property with state police protection.
Grant remained in Massachusetts under guard.
Meredith asked to speak with Charles.
He nearly refused.
Detective Walsh said,
“She may know Nolan.”
So he went.
Meredith sat across from him inside attorney's office.
No makeup.
No elegant armor.
“You found the pouch.”
“Yes.”
“I was going to tell you.”
Charles stared.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Before or after you shoved Savannah toward a trash bin?”
Meredith closed her eyes.
“I deserve that.”
“This isn't about what you deserve.”
“No.”
“It's about whether you know where Nolan will go.”
Meredith nodded.
“Maybe.”
“Talk.”
Nolan had a house not in his name.
Jamestown.
Across bay.
Used for private meetings.
She had been there twice.
Police searched.
Empty.
Recent food.
Burned documents.
One wall map showed coastal properties.
A red circle around Charles's private guest house.
The one where Savannah had just been moved.
They evacuated immediately.
Nolan knew family properties.
Charles felt sick.
Then Meredith said,
“He may not want Savannah.”
“What?”
“He wants Grant.”
“Why?”
“Because Grant can destroy him.”
“He already can.”
“Not completely.”
“What is missing?”
“The original Harbor Meridian ownership agreement.”
Damon handled finance but Nolan legally controlled Harbor Meridian through nominee structure.
Grant had found a signed copy.
Where?
Meredith didn't know.
“Damon searched his office.”
“No document.”
“Boat?”
“Maybe.”
Charles thought of the missing rugged drive.
But ownership agreement was paper.
Grant might have hidden it elsewhere.
Savannah's tablet?
Safe box?
Then Charles remembered Grant's video.
Behind him, family portrait.
He had glanced toward it several times.
Maybe because he was nervous.
Maybe clue.
Charles returned to mansion with police.
Grant's study remained sealed.
They removed portrait.
Behind it:
Nothing.
Then Savannah, on video call, said,
“Dad used to hide Christmas presents in the wall vent.”
Charles looked.
Small vent beneath bookcase.
Inside:
A rolled document in waterproof tube.
Harbor Meridian ownership agreement.
Beneficial owner:
Nolan Rourke.
Damon held minority interest.
Grant had the original.
Now prosecutors had direct evidence linking Nolan to shell company.
Why would Nolan need Grant if document already existed?
Because Nolan didn't know Charles found it.
He thought Grant was only person who knew location.
That made Grant target.
Federal agents warned Seabrook.
Within an hour, a man wearing maintenance uniform attempted to enter Grant's wing.
Security stopped him.
He ran.
Caught in parking lot.
Employee of Rourke Protective.
He carried a syringe containing sedative.
Not lethal.
Enough to make Grant unconscious.
Likely intended abduction.
The man asked for lawyer.
Phone showed message:
Move G before noon. N.R.
Nolan was issuing direct orders.
Location ping from burner phone:
Newport.
Very close.
Police narrowed.
Then a second message arrived.
If G moves, use M.
Use Meredith.
Charles stared.
Nolan still believed Meredith could be manipulated.
Detective Walsh suggested controlled contact.
Meredith agreed.
She called old number Nolan had used.
Voicemail.
“It's me.”
Her voice shook.
“They found the pouch.”
Pause.
“I need help.”
She looked at Charles.
Then continued.
“I still have Savannah.”
Charles hated the line even knowing it was bait.
“Call me.”
Six minutes.
Phone rang.
Nolan.
Meredith answered.
“Where are you?”
He ignored.
“Do you have the girl?”
“Yes.”
“Proof.”
Meredith's face changed.
They had prepared no live Savannah exposure.
Police showed a prerecorded clip of Savannah from behind, face obscured, walking through guest-house hallway.
Meredith sent.
Nolan believed.
“Bring her.”
“Where?”
“Fort Adams.”
Charles felt cold.
Public historic site.
Night.
Many access points.
Meredith asked,
“What do I get?”
“Your life.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That stopped being enough.”
Nolan paused.
“What do you want?”
“The money you promised.”
Good.
Make greed believable.
“Fine.”
“And Damon?”
“Not your problem.”
Meredith looked at Charles.
That answer meant Damon might already be in danger.
Then Nolan said,
“Come alone.”
Meredith replied,
“You know I won't.”
Silence.
Then Nolan laughed.
“Charles is listening, isn't he?”
Everyone froze.
Nolan continued.
“Tell him his son should have drowned the first time.”
The line died.
Charles stared at the phone.
Not “accident.”
Not “unfortunate.”
Should have drowned.
For the first time, Nolan had personally connected himself to Grant's near death.
And he knew Charles was inside the operation.
The controlled meeting was gone.
But Nolan had made one mistake.
He called from a device investigators could partially trace.
Signal:
May you like
Near Newport Harbor.
And one privately owned yacht registered to a Rourke shell company had just requested fuel.
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