A lot was riding on tonight. If it didn’t go well, my plan for how to deal with the board would go up in flames. But failure wasn’t an option.
As I finished my drink, my first guest arrived. Cyrus sauntered into the room looking powerful in a black suit with his hair slicked back. He sat in the seat across from me at the dining table and poured himself a glassof wine. There were no servers or kitchen staff here today. This was not a dinner meeting.
This was an ambush.
“What is so important that I needed to cancel my meetings this close to the board’s vote?” Cyrus asked.
“Do you need more time to scrape together a half-assed plan in an attempt to depose me?” I asked.
Cyrus pursed his lips and I suppressed a smile.One point for Nolan.
“You must be busy since you haven’t been at Hale’s Peak,” he noted.
I ignored his attempt to dig for information. Then my second guest walked in, right on cue.
“Robert Wilhelm? What’s he doing here?” Cyrus asked, twisting in his seat with barely concealed incredulity to stare at the shorter blond man. He was rattled. I smiled as Robert took a seat and smoothed his tie, helping himself to the wine.
“I invited him. Obviously.” I sat back and waited for the final guest. Five minutes later, a man around Robert’s age walked in. He sported a military-style buzz cut and a gray suit to match his steely eyes, a toothpick in its customary place between his teeth. “Jason Jesko,” I said with a thin smile. “Have a seat.”
Jason, my security guy, occupied the remaining chair, looking at Cyrus and Robert with open suspicion. “What is it,szef?” said Jason. “We usually do these things over the phone.”
The word scraped against my raw nerves like a rusty nail.
That singular, damning word.
I put my glass on the table and steepled my hands, ready for war. “I’ve called you here to give you one chance to confess. Jason, due to your criminal negligence, Tamara Keller died on January 12, 2004. Yousabotaged the ski lift, chair number 44. Tamara got on the chair, a gust of wind broke it, and she fell to her death.”
Jason’s gunmetal gaze gave nothing away as he waited for me to continue.
“But it wasn’t your idea, of course,” I said. “You were working for someone. And that someone was Robert.”
Sweat beaded on Robert’s upper lip as he adjusted his tie.Guilty.
“I looked back into your career at the time, Robert,” I continued. “You weren’t doing so well. A newbie in the real estate world. A rubber ducky trying to swim with the sharks. Getting Hale’s Peak to finally sell, though, and being the one to broker the deal? That would launch your career into the stratosphere.
“So, you hired a private security firm—also up and coming at the time—to do your dirty work. Sabotage a ski lift, shut down the slopes, spook Arthur into selling. Conveniently being there to put the bug in his ear about how the property would fetch a handsome price with developers if he thought it was best to cut his losses.”
Uncovering the motivations behind the ski lift sabotage had taken weeks of work, but once I’d found the right names, it wasn’t hard to get Robert’s contacts at Jason’s security firm to sing. And, my team of lawyers threatening them into oblivion helped speed things along.
During my monologue, Cyrus had been growing increasingly agitated, clutching the edge of the table in both hands. Finally, he exploded. “Except the blowhard didn’t anticipate thatmy fucking wifewould be the one to fall victim to his idiotic schemes,” Cyrus sneered, and I smiled yet again. The bastard was playing right into my hands, too narcissistic to deny his role in all of this.
“And this is where you come into the story, Cyrus,” I said. “You’re the true mastermind, not Robert. You’ve never hidden the fact that you’vewanted to sell Hale’s Peak for years. I thought it was because it was a reminder of Mom’s death, but now I know better. You wanted to sell so that nobody would catch wind of what you’d done.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cyrus’s voice was deadly calm, but his throat bobbed in a nervous swallow.
Got you.
“My forensic accountants found something very interesting in Keller Resorts’ financial records from that year,” I continued. “Large payments to shell corporations for undisclosed reasons. Which were then traced to two people: Robert Wilhelm and Jason Jesko. Payments made and authorized by you, Father.”
I let the bomb sit and watched as it silently exploded in front of me. Robert—the slimy snake—froze, his face pinched in fear. Jason sat back, arms crossed, eying Cyrus. My father did not relinquish his grip on the table as he locked gazes with me, and it took everything in me to refrain from strangling the bastard where he sat.
“Those payments don’t prove anything,” Cyrus said.
“Maybe not, but the fact that you’re concerned about it does. I have a witness who can place Jason at the scene. And I know Robert asked Tess about that night when he was at the gala. Right, Robert?” I didn’t know for a fact, but it stood to reason that he’d only been at the resort to keep an eye on me and make sure I didn’t discover anything I wasn’t supposed to. His paling face was confirmation enough.
“What do you want, Nolan?” my father asked. “That case is done and shut, and you may think you have new evidence, but it’s all circumstantial. It’s not enough to reopen it and land a conviction.”
“I want the truth, Cyrus. I want to hear you say it.”
