Chapter 7 - What Ryan Recorded

The USB drive did not open easily.

It took the digital-forensics team most of the evening to image it, preserve it, and work through an encrypted folder Ryan had apparently believed would protect him from everybody except the person he feared most.

At ten thirty, Detective Ortiz called us back to the station.

This time Erin and I sat on opposite sides of the room with our attorneys beside us.

Nobody pretended we were a couple working together.

We were two parents caught in the same investigation for very different reasons.

Ortiz connected a laptop to a large monitor.

"The drive contains documents, photographs, audio recordings, and what appears to be a private ledger," she said. "We're still reviewing it. I'm going to play one recording because it directly changes how we understand the property scheme."

She pressed play.

Static.

A door closing.

Then Ryan's voice.

"Five point seven is too high. Northline will walk."

Another man answered.

Older.

Rougher.

"Northline doesn't know what the middle parcel costs yet."

I looked at Mitch.

He nodded once.

Clay Barlow.

Ryan said, "They have appraisers."

Clay laughed.

"They have employees. Employees believe whatever gets put in the file."

"Grant won't sign."

"Grant already signed."

"A forged option isn't a signature."

"It is until somebody spends two years proving otherwise."

My hands tightened on the chair.

Dana glanced at me.

I kept still.

Ryan's voice came again.

"Erin is getting nervous."

"Then keep sleeping with her."

Erin flinched as if somebody had struck her.

Nobody looked at her.

Ryan said, "That wasn't part of the original arrangement."

Clay answered, "It became part when you told me she was lonely."

Silence on the recording.

Then Ryan said quietly, "She's not stupid."

"No. She's angry. Angry people do stupid work for you and call it courage."

Erin covered her mouth.

Priya put a hand on her forearm.

Ryan said, "She won't sign the affidavit if she thinks the kids are involved."

"Then don't tell her they are."

"You had someone photograph the girl."

"Insurance."

"Against Grant?"

"Against both of them."

The room went cold.

Ryan's voice sharpened.

"You said nobody gets hurt."

"Nobody is hurt. A camera is not a bullet."

"You told me this was a property play."

"It is."

"Then why are you tracking a nine-year-old?"

Clay paused.

When he answered, his voice was calmer.

"Because Grant is Henry's son. Henry only became reasonable when he thought his family would pay for his principles."

I closed my eyes.

That sentence explained seventeen years of silence in my father's letters.

Ryan said, "Grant isn't Henry."

"Everybody is somebody when the right nerve gets touched."

The recording ended.

Nobody spoke.

Finally Erin whispered, "He knew."

Ortiz looked at her.

"Who?"

"Ryan. He knew Clay was using me."

Priya said quietly, "Erin, don't speculate."

"It's not speculation. He heard Clay say it."

I looked at her.

"He still kept going."

She nodded.

"Yes."

Her voice was barely audible.

Dana leaned toward Ortiz.

"Do you have a date on the recording?"

"Metadata suggests five weeks ago."

"Before the kitchen incident."

"Yes."

"Before the forged quitclaim was recorded?"

"Yes."

Mitch said, "So Ryan knew the plan was to use Erin as cover, and he proceeded anyway."

Ortiz nodded.

"That's how it appears."

"Why record Clay?"

"Protection. Maybe leverage. Maybe both."

She opened another file.

"The ledger is more interesting."

Rows of payments appeared on the screen.

Private investigators.

A document preparation service.

The Nevada notary company.

Red Plains Equipment.

A title research contractor.

Then one line made me lean forward.

MERCER FAMILY - BEHAVIORAL PROFILE.

"What is that?"

Ortiz clicked.

A PDF opened.

It contained pages about me.

Work schedule.

Typical routes.

Temperament descriptions pulled from public reviews and interviews.

Photographs of my truck.

Notes on my mother.

Notes on Mitch.

Notes on Erin.

And notes on Tessa.

School hours.

Soccer schedule.

Favorite after-school stop.

My voice changed before I could stop it.

"Who wrote this?"

Ortiz scrolled to the invoice.

"A private investigations company called Latham Risk Services."

"Licensed?"

"Yes."

"Do they know why they were hired?"

"We don't know yet."

Dana said, "Following a child isn't automatically illegal depending on circumstances, but this document combined with the threats matters."

"I don't care whether it fits neatly into a statute."

"I know. The court will."

I looked at the page again.

One note beside Tessa's name read:

Strong attachment to father. Likely trigger point.

I stood.

"I need a minute."

Dana followed me into the hallway.

"Do not punch the wall."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good. It's government property and ugly enough already."

I paced once to the vending machine and back.

"They studied her."

"Yes."

"Like a target."

"Like leverage."

"That's worse."

"I know."

I looked at her.

"If you tell me to stay calm, I'm firing you."

"I was going to tell you anger is information."

"Meaning?"

"It tells you what matters. It does not tell you what to do."

I leaned against the wall.

"I train people through this exact problem."

"Then take your own advice."

"Dogs are easier."

"Obviously. They rarely forge deeds."

I laughed despite myself.

Then the door opened and Priya stepped into the hall.

"Grant, Erin wants to tell you something."

"Does it need to happen tonight?"

"Yes."

I went back in.

Erin sat with both hands clasped together.

"Ryan took Tessa to lunch once."

I stopped halfway to my chair.

"What?"

"I was there."

"When?"

"Two months ago."

"You told me you took her shopping."

"We did go shopping. Ryan met us at a restaurant."

"Why?"

"He said he wanted to meet her because if we were going to be together someday—"

I stared at her.

"You introduced our daughter to the man you were having an affair with?"

"I told her he was an old friend."

"That's not better."

"I know."

"What did he ask her?"

Erin's eyes dropped.

"About you."

"What about me?"

"Whether you got angry. Whether you yelled. Whether you ever scared her."

The room became silent.

"What did Tessa say?"

"She said you yell at football and at people who leave gates open."

Mitch looked down, hiding a smile that had no business being there.

"Anything else?"

"She said you never scared her."

My throat tightened.

Erin continued.

"Ryan asked what time you came home. Tessa said sometimes late. He asked who made dinner when you were late. She said me."

"And you didn't see what he was doing?"

"I saw what I wanted to see. I thought he was interested in my life."

"He was interviewing our child for a custody file."

"Yes."

I turned away.

Priya said, "Erin is disclosing this because it may connect to the profile document."

"It connects."

Ortiz nodded.

"We'll need to interview Tessa with a child specialist, not tonight and not without proper safeguards."

"Fine."

"No coaching her."

"I know."

Ortiz gave me a look.

"You really do say that a lot."

"Bad week."

She switched the monitor to another file.

"There's one more item."

A scanned letter appeared.

It was signed by Clay Barlow and addressed to Northline Communities.

The letter proposed assembling forty-seven acres for a mixed-use development project. It represented that the Mercer parcel was under binding option and could be delivered at closing.

Northline had countersigned a preliminary term sheet.

"They think my land is already controlled," I said.

"Apparently."

"Do they know the option is forged?"

"We don't know. Their counsel has been contacted."

Dana said, "If they're legitimate, they'll freeze everything the moment they understand title is disputed."

Mitch pointed at the screen.

"What's the deadline?"

Ortiz zoomed in.

Closing condition: executed parcel assembly by Friday, 5:00 p.m.

It was Wednesday night.

"Two days," I said.

"That's why Clay is moving now," Mitch said. "He needs to deliver your parcel or the larger deal dies."

Ortiz nodded.

"And Ryan's arrest makes him desperate."

My phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number.

I showed it to Dana before opening it.

She nodded.

The text contained only an image.

A photograph of the entrance to Mercer Working Dogs.

Taken at night.

Taken recently.

Beneath it was one sentence.

Your father made the mistake of thinking evidence protected him.

A second message appeared.

Come alone tomorrow at sunrise if you want this to end without dragging your children through it.

Then a location pin.

An abandoned drilling yard south of Guthrie.

Mitch said, "Absolutely not."

Dana said, "Correct."

Detective Ortiz held out her hand for the phone.

I gave it to her.

"I'm not going alone."

She studied me.

"You're not going at all unless we decide there's a lawful investigative reason."

"He's asking for me."

"That's his problem."

"If Clay thinks I'm too afraid to show—"

"Grant."

I stopped.

Ortiz's voice was quiet.

"This man built a plan around predicting your reactions. Stop helping him."

I looked at the message again.

Your father made the mistake of thinking evidence protected him.

Maybe Dad had made mistakes.

He had signed bad documents.

He had paid for silence and guilt.

He had hidden the truth instead of bringing it into daylight.

I was not going to repeat that part.

"Fine," I said. "What do we do instead?"

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Ortiz looked at Dana, then at Mitch, then back at me.

"We make Clay believe you're coming."