Chapter 6 - The Traitor Inside My Investigation
The photograph proved Ethan Jenkins had entered my employer's building that morning.
It didn't prove why.
And it certainly didn't prove he was a criminal.
But someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to keep me from discovering it.
I returned to Croll Associates shortly after midnight with Arthur and our legal counsel.
The office occupied three floors of a glass tower overlooking Midtown.
I'd worked there for seven years.
I knew every hallway.
Every security desk.
Every conference room.
Yet suddenly the place felt unfamiliar.
Our managing partner, Jonathan Pierce, was waiting in the boardroom.
He was fifty-six, polished, and famous for never losing his composure.
When he saw me, his smile vanished.
"Khloe."
I placed Ethan's photograph on the table.
"Who is this?"
Jonathan glanced down.
Then back at me.
"I don't recognize him."
I stared.
"Look again."
He sighed.
"Khloe, you're exhausted."
"That's not an answer."
Arthur stepped forward.
"Jonathan, we're asking a straightforward question."
Jonathan's jaw tightened.
"I don't appreciate being interrogated in my own office."
I leaned closer.
"Neither did I appreciate discovering that someone here exposed my undercover identity."
His eyes flickered.
Just once.
But I noticed.
I had spent my career watching people lie.
Jonathan was lying now.
"Did Ethan come here today?" I asked.
Silence.
Then Jonathan whispered:
"You should stop asking questions about your brother."
My blood ran cold.
"Why?"
His expression changed.
"Because the last time someone investigated Blackbird, three people disappeared."
Arthur went still.
"Who?"
Jonathan looked toward him.
"You know exactly who."
I stared between them.
Suddenly, something clicked.
Arthur hadn't merely invested in companies.
His bank had been involved in restructuring several businesses later acquired by Croft Capital.
Those transactions had been examined in Ethan's original investigation.
I turned toward Arthur.
"How much of your bank's money went into Croft's acquisitions?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Arthur."
He looked ashamed.
"Almost eight hundred million dollars over several years."
My heart stopped.
"And how much was recovered?"
"Less than half."
I stared at him.
He wasn't investigating Croft only to protect future investments.
He was trying to uncover what happened to money his institution had already lost.
Then Jonathan spoke again.
"Ethan found evidence that the losses weren't accidental."
I turned.
"What?"
Jonathan swallowed.
"Someone deliberately moved assets through companies connected to Arthur's bank."
Arthur's face hardened.
"Who?"
Jonathan looked toward the glass wall.
Then whispered:
"Your late business partner."
Arthur went pale.
"My partner?"
Jonathan nodded.
"Charles Whitmore."
I knew the name.
Charles Whitmore had died five years earlier in a boating accident.
He'd been one of Arthur's oldest friends.
Then Jonathan opened a locked drawer.
Inside was a file marked:
BLACKBIRD — ORIGINAL BENEFICIAL OWNERSHIP.
He placed it on the table.
I opened it.
The first page listed shell companies.
The second listed bank accounts.
The third contained a photograph.
Richard Croft.
Charles Whitmore.
And Ethan Jenkins.
Standing together inside a private office.
The photograph had been taken one week after Ethan's supposed death.
Then Jonathan whispered:
"Your brother wasn't kidnapped, Khloe."
I looked up.
"He disappeared because he was protecting someone."
My heart pounded.
"Who?"
May you like
Jonathan swallowed.
"You."
