Chapter 17 - THE HARBOR FILESThe flash drive contained eighteen years of crimes.
Not dramatic crimes.
No photographs of bodies.
No handwritten murder instructions.
Something more dangerous.
Numbers.
Carrie understood numbers.
So did Rebecca.
They spent two days inside Whitaker Advisory’s secure conference room while Dominic stayed home with Grace.
That arrangement surprised almost everyone.
The old Dominic would have taken command.
The new Dominic made grilled cheese badly and checked the home-security cameras every fourteen minutes.
Carrie found payments from Meridian Atlantic to consulting companies.
Those companies paid lobbyists.
The lobbyists paid nonprofits.
The nonprofits purchased property from companies controlled by judges’ relatives.
Bribery disguised through enough legal distance to look respectable.
Rebecca leaned back.
“This is sophisticated.”
Carrie nodded.
“Which means Evelyn didn’t build it alone.”
Walter, still recovering from the stress of Margaret’s shooting, studied another file.
“Anthony.”
Carrie looked at him.
Walter pointed.
A holding company.
Marino Coastal Management.
Dissolved twenty-three years earlier.
Its signature authorized the first transactions.
Anthony’s.
Dominic arrived halfway through the afternoon.
He saw the document.
Said nothing.
Carrie watched him read.
His face did not harden anymore when truth hurt.
It softened.
That was somehow sadder.
“My father started it.”
Walter said carefully:
“Possibly.”
“No.”
Dominic touched the signature.
“That’s his.”
He sat.
“He started it.”
Carrie moved beside him.
Dominic looked around at the evidence.
“All these years, I thought I was repairing what I broke.”
“You were.”
“What if I was only repairing the smallest part?”
Carrie crouched beside his chair.
“Then repair the next part.”
He looked at her.
“You make everything sound annoyingly simple.”
“I’m expensive for a reason.”
His mouth almost smiled.
Rebecca cleared her throat.
“You two can have emotional growth later.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You enjoy my suffering.”
“Professionally.”
Then Carrie found something strange.
A payment from Anthony’s company to a private investigator.
The date:
Three days after Elena Vale died.
Another payment followed.
Then another.
For seventeen years.
All connected to Lydia.
Anthony had secretly monitored his daughter her entire adult life.
Dominic called Lydia.
She came immediately.
When Carrie showed her the records, Lydia stopped speaking.
Her face emptied.
Sebastian touched her arm.
She pulled away.
“He watched me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nobody knew.
Then Walter saw one recipient.
A psychiatric clinic.
Lydia froze.
Dominic noticed.
“What is that?”
“Nothing.”
“Lydia.”
She turned.
“Do not use my name like we’re family.”
Sebastian flinched.
Dominic remained calm.
“Fine. Tell Carrie.”
Lydia almost laughed.
Then she sat.
When she was twenty-four, she had suffered a breakdown.
Their mother had been dead seven years.
Sebastian had left for college.
Lydia had spent her entire youth raising someone else.
One day she simply stopped functioning.
The clinic saved her life.
“I had no insurance.”
Carrie looked at the payment records.
“Anthony paid.”
Lydia shook her head.
“No.”
“He did.”
“No.”
The word cracked.
“He didn’t come to Mom’s funeral. He didn’t answer my letters.”
Her eyes filled.
“He doesn’t get credit because he secretly paid a bill.”
Carrie spoke gently.
“Nobody said he did.”
That was the tragedy.
Anthony Marino had loved people in ways designed to prevent them from ever knowing.
Money.
Secret protection.
Hidden trusts.
Silent payments.
As though admitting love made it weaker.
And every secret created another wound.
Dominic looked toward the window.
“I used to do that.”
Carrie knew.
He continued.
“I thought taking care of someone meant solving problems without admitting I was scared.”
Lydia looked at him.
“Did you change?”
Dominic glanced at Carrie.
“She left.”
Lydia almost smiled.
Carrie did not.
“Don’t make me responsible for all your personal development.”
Walter chuckled.
Then suddenly grabbed his chest.
The smile vanished.
“Walter?”
He waved them off.
“Heartburn.”
Carrie stood.
“Sit.”
“I am sitting.”
His face had gone gray.
Dominic moved immediately.
“Call an ambulance.”
Walter protested.
“I’m fine.”
Carrie crouched.
“Walter.”
He looked at her.
She saw fear.
That ended the argument.
At the hospital, doctors diagnosed a cardiac arrhythmia worsened by exhaustion and stress.
No heart attack.
But close enough.
Carrie sat beside his bed afterward.
“You’re retiring.”
Walter frowned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve fired me nineteen times.”
“This one is medically supported.”
“You can’t run that office without me.”
“I absolutely can.”
“Poorly.”
Carrie laughed.
Then cried.
Walter’s expression softened.
He held out his hand.
She took it.
“You scared me.”
“I know.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“I’ll consult my schedule.”
Carrie squeezed his hand.
Walter looked at her for a long time.
Then said quietly:
“There’s something I never told you.”
Carrie frowned.
“What?”
“The night you left the Marino estate.”
She waited.
“I almost stopped you.”
“Why?”
“Because I was frightened.”
“Of what?”
“That leaving Dominic would destroy the family.”
Carrie felt her chest tighten.
Walter’s eyes filled.
“I was wrong.”
She looked down.
“You leaving saved it.”
Carrie cried harder.
Walter smiled.
“Terribly inconvenient.”
She laughed through tears.
Then his monitor alarm sounded.
Carrie stood.
Nurses rushed in.
Walter’s body jerked once.
“Walter?”
A nurse moved Carrie backward.
“Ma’am, outside.”
“No.”
“Carrie.”
Dominic had arrived behind her.
He wrapped his arms around her as the medical team closed around Walter.
Carrie fought him.
“Let me go.”
“They need room.”
“WALTER!”
The door closed.
Carrie stood in Dominic’s arms sobbing.
Twenty minutes later, the physician came out.
Walter was stable.
Again.
But his heart had entered a dangerous rhythm.
He needed surgery.
Soon.
Carrie closed her eyes.
Dominic held her.
Then his phone rang.
Reyes.
Dominic almost ignored it.
Carrie whispered:
“Answer.”
He did.
Reyes spoke for less than thirty seconds.
Dominic’s expression changed.
“What?”
Carrie looked at him.
Reyes had identified the person who hired the shooter at their house.
Not Evelyn Cross.
Not Victor.
Not Lydia.
The payment originated from an account controlled by Meridian Atlantic’s second-largest private shareholder.
Sebastian Vale.
Dominic slowly looked toward the hallway.
May you like
Sebastian was standing there.
And for the first time since meeting his brother, Dominic truly wanted to kill him.
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