Chapter 9 - The Warehouse Where Everything BeganThe old Hayes warehouse stood near an industrial road outside Annapolis.
I remembered visiting it with Grandpa Walter when I was little.
The building had smelled of sawdust, machine oil, and fresh lumber.
Grandpa kept a small office in the corner.
He had a battered desk, a coffee maker that never worked properly, and a framed photograph of his first construction crew.
He was proud of that photograph.
Not because it showed his success.
Because it showed the people who helped him achieve it.
As a child, I loved listening to him tell stories about those workers.
He remembered their children's names.
He attended their weddings.
And when one of them was injured, Grandpa paid the man's wages until he recovered.
“People aren't disposable, Amelia,” he'd say.
Now federal investigators were examining the warehouse as part of a case involving possible financial misconduct.
I had no authority to involve myself in their search.
And I had no intention of interfering.
But I couldn't stop thinking about Rebecca's note.
Leonard knows what happened.
What happened twenty-two years ago?
Grandpa died after a heart attack.
At least, that was what I'd been told.
He had suffered from heart problems for several years.
His death had been sudden but medically unsurprising.
Still, the date in Rebecca's note raised questions I couldn't answer.
The following afternoon, Margaret Ellis called again.
“Amelia, I heard investigators are looking at the old warehouse.”
“Yes.”
“Then there's something I should have told you sooner.”
I closed my office door.
“What is it?”
“Your grandfather met with Leonard there shortly before he died.”
“What about?”
“The trust. Company ownership. And a proposed refinancing arrangement.”
I sat down.
“Was it an argument?”
“Walter was upset. Leonard wanted to use more company assets to secure an expansion loan. Your grandfather thought the risk was unreasonable.”
“Did they reach an agreement?”
“Not that I know of.”
Margaret paused.
“Walter called me afterward.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was worried Leonard had begun treating the company like a personal monument instead of a responsibility.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded exactly like Grandpa.
“Did he mention Grant?”
“Grant was still young. Walter's concern was Leonard.”
“Why?”
“Because Leonard believed admitting a mistake was worse than making one.”
I stared at my grandfather's photograph on the bookshelf.
After a moment, Margaret continued.
“Amelia, you should understand something. Your grandfather never stopped loving your father.”
“I know.”
“But he feared that Leonard would sacrifice good people to preserve his reputation.”
A long silence followed.
Then Margaret said:
“Your grandfather hoped you'd become the kind of leader Leonard couldn't bring himself to be.”
I swallowed.
“I joined the Navy because I wanted a life of my own.”
“And you built one.”
Her voice softened.
“Walter would have been proud.”
Those words hit me harder than I expected.
For twenty-two years, I'd tried not to care whether my father approved of my choices.
But hearing that Grandpa might have understood them brought tears to my eyes.
That evening, my brother called.
I nearly ignored him.
Then I answered.
“Grant.”
“Amelia, we need to meet.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone's turning against me.”
I said nothing.
“Dad's acting like I ruined his life. Mom won't speak to me. The lawyers keep asking questions.”
“Then answer them.”
“You don't understand.”
“Explain.”
He exhaled.
“I didn't start this.”
“Start what?”
“The financial arrangements.”
I sat straighter.
“Grant, you need to speak to your attorney and the investigators.”
“I already have an attorney.”
“Then follow their advice.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You always have an answer, don't you?”
“No. I've spent the last three days discovering how much I don't know.”
There was a long silence.
Then Grant said:
“Dad taught me that the company couldn't survive without us.”
“That's not the same as teaching you how to run it.”
“I know that now.”
Something in his voice sounded different.
Not innocent.
But frightened.
“Amelia, do you remember when Grandpa died?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what Dad said afterward?”
I frowned.
“He said Grandpa worked too hard.”
“Exactly.”
“What are you getting at?”
Grant lowered his voice.
“Grandpa wasn't supposed to be at the warehouse that night.”
I felt a chill.
“How do you know?”
“Because Dad told me.”
“When?”
“Years later, after he'd been drinking.”
I stared at the phone.
“What did he say?”
Grant hesitated.
“He said Grandpa came there because someone was going to expose a financial arrangement.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Grant.”
“I swear.”
Then his voice changed.
“Amelia, there's something else.”
“What?”
“The records Rebecca found weren't the first ones to go missing.”
I stopped breathing for a moment.
“What do you mean?”
May you like
Grant whispered:
“Dad destroyed another set of records the night Grandpa died.”
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