Chapter 8 - Gretchen Had a Second Plan Brandon Never Knew About

Gretchen denied knowing about the trust.

Moreno did not believe her.

Neither did I.

The documents showed the beneficiary designation had been signed electronically from an IP address linked to Gretchen’s apartment.

Her attorney argued Brandon had visited often.

That was true.

But the trust’s recovery email belonged to a private account registered with Gretchen’s phone number.

The story cracked.

Prosecutors paused her cooperation agreement.

For six hours, she refused to answer questions.

Then Miriam Stone asked to speak privately with Moreno.

The truth came out in pieces.

Gretchen had begun fearing Brandon before Glacier.

Not enough to stop helping him.

Enough to protect herself.

She knew about Cole.

She knew Brandon’s debts were worse than he admitted.

She also knew Brandon blamed people when plans failed.

So she created an escape fund.

The three-million-dollar trust was her insurance against him.

“Did she intend to kill Brandon?” I asked Moreno.

“We don’t have evidence of that.”

“But she benefited if he died.”

“Benefiting is not planning.”

I understood the distinction better than most people now.

Then Gretchen admitted something more serious.

She had recorded Brandon.

Secretly.

Dozens of conversations.

Not because she wanted justice.

Because she wanted leverage.

Miriam negotiated access to the recordings in exchange for keeping the cooperation agreement alive.

The prosecution agreed only if all recordings were surrendered.

The files changed everything.

One captured Brandon discussing the route.

Another captured him complaining about how long accidental-death claims could take without a body.

Then came a recording from two nights before Glacier.

Gretchen asked, “What if she survives?”

Brandon laughed.

“She won’t.”

“What if she does?”

A long pause.

“Then I finish it.”

I listened twice.

Not because I needed convincing.

Because there was something terrifying about hearing murder discussed in an ordinary room.

No shouting.

No rage.

Just planning.

Moreno stopped playback.

“We’ll use this.”

“There’s more.”

The final recording was dated after the funeral.

Brandon sounded relaxed.

Gretchen asked when the insurance money would arrive.

He said the company was stalling.

Then she asked what they would do if investigators became suspicious.

Brandon answered, “Claire can’t testify.”

Gretchen said, “What about the rescuer?”

My pulse jumped.

Brandon went silent.

Then: “Who?”

“The guy who went down to the ledge. Ruiz.”

I looked at Moreno.

“Daniel.”

She was already reaching for her phone.

Daniel Ruiz had returned to work after my rescue.

He had given investigators a statement but stayed out of media coverage.

Moreno called park law enforcement.

Daniel was safe.

For the moment.

Then she asked whether he had received anything unusual.

He had.

Two days after my funeral, someone mailed an envelope to his home.

Inside was five thousand dollars in cash.

No note.

Daniel reported it immediately to his supervisor, assuming someone connected to the family was trying to thank him improperly.

The cash had been logged.

Nobody had tied it to Brandon.

Now Moreno did.

Serial numbers led to a bank withdrawal from one of Brandon’s corporate petty-cash accounts.

“What was he buying?” I asked.

Moreno’s expression darkened.

“Maybe silence.”

Daniel met with prosecutors.

He remembered something he had not emphasized before.

At the hospital, before I was transferred under privacy protection, a man called the rescue office claiming to be Brandon’s attorney.

He asked whether I had shown signs of consciousness before rescue.

Daniel refused to discuss it.

At the time, he assumed the caller was collecting information for insurance.

Now the call looked different.

Brandon had been checking whether I could speak.

Investigators traced the number.

Prepaid.

Purchased near Glacier airport.

Security footage showed Gretchen buying the phone.

Her cooperation deal nearly collapsed again.

She claimed Brandon ordered her to buy it and made the call himself.

No recording existed.

Then Daniel identified Brandon’s voice from a lineup of audio samples.

Another piece.

Another lie.

Another attempt to control the story after he believed I was dead.

The prosecution’s case was becoming overwhelming.

That frightened me.

Not because I wanted it weaker.

Because Brandon’s attorney knew it too.

Desperate people did desperate things.

My family received protection.

Noah and I moved again.

Daniel’s address was removed from public databases.

Gretchen entered protective custody after prosecutors warned that Brandon still had access to employees and private contractors.

Sebastian Cole became the next problem.

Federal investigators questioned him about the nine-million-dollar loan.

He denied knowing anything about the murder plan.

Maybe that was true.

Then one of his accountants disappeared.

The accountant had managed Brandon’s private payments.

Police found his car at a bus station.

No signs of violence.

But his laptop was gone.

Moreno did not like coincidences.

Neither did I.

Two days later, Hannah called.

Someone had broken into my parents’ house.

Nothing valuable was taken.

No jewelry.

No electronics.

Only one room was searched.

The nursery my mother had created for Noah after learning he survived.

Drawers opened.

Closet emptied.

Mattress lifted.

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On the wall above the crib, someone had written one sentence in black marker.

DEAD PEOPLE SHOULD STAY DEAD.