Page 41 of Critical Mass
It was time to use those skills now.
“I want to see everything.” Her voice sounded firmer. “Not summaries. Not interpretations. I want the raw data. Financial records, travel logs, communications. All of it.”
Colton raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Ravenscroft?—”
“I’m a communications director for an international corporation,” she interrupted. “I know how to read financial documents, analyze travel patterns, and identify inconsistencies in official statements. If you want my help, then I want to actually examine the evidence myself. Maybe I’ll see something you missed. Maybe I’ll prove you’re wrong. Either way, I need to see it. All of it.”
Ty and Colton exchanged a glance.
Then Colton nodded slowly. “Let me call Jake in here.”
A moment later, their colleague came into the room. He moved to a laptop at the end of the table and began typing. Within moments, a projector displayed a complex folder structure on the wall.
“Financial records are in the red folders, communications in blue, surveillance logs in green,” Jake explained. “What do you want to start with?”
Natalie stood and moved closer to the screen. This was familiar territory—data analysis, pattern recognition, finding the story beneath the facts. She needed to set aside her emotions right now and concentrate on the tangible.
“Travel records,” she said. “Show me everywhere my father has been in the past six months.”
Jake clicked through several folders until a spreadsheet appeared—dates, destinations, flight information, hotel bookings.
Natalie scanned the list, her eyes moving quickly down the columns.
London, Singapore, Cape Town, Istanbul.
All cities where Ravenscroft International had legitimate business operations. She’d written press releases about several of these trips.
Then something caught her eye.
“There.” She pointed at an entry. “September 15 through 18. Dubai.”
“What about it?” Colton asked.
“My father told me that was a vacation.” Natalie’s mind raced. “Said he was taking a few days off, that he’d been working too hard. But he never takes vacations. Never. The last time he took time off was—” She stopped, calculating. “Five years ago, after his knee replacement surgery.”
“Keep going,” Ty murmured.
She turned to face the room. “I actually thought he might have a girlfriend there, someone he was keeping secret. He was being so cagey and wouldn’t give me details about where he was staying or what he was doing.”
Hudson pushed off from the wall. “Ravenscroft International doesn’t have operations in Dubai?”
“No. We have a small client base in the UAE, but nothing that would require in-person meetings. Certainly nothing that would require a four-day trip.” Natalie looked back at the screen. “Can you show me his communications around those dates?”
Jake pulled up email and phone records.
Natalie leaned in, studying the data before pointing to a cluster of calls. “Look at this. Three calls to an unlisted number in Dubai the week before the trip. Then nothing during the trip itself—radio silence. Then two more calls to the same number three days after he returned.”
Ty nodded slowly. “Setting up a meeting, attending the meeting, then confirming the deal was done.”
Natalie’s stomach churned, but she forced herself to keep analyzing. “What about bank records? Did any money move around those dates?”
Colton pulled up financial data and highlighted a transaction. “There. Transfer of $2.3 million to an offshore account in the Caymans, dated September 17th.”
The middle of his “vacation.”
Natalie sank back into her chair, her professional detachment cracking. “He lied to me. When I asked him about the trip after he got back, he showed me photos of tourist sites. The Burj Khalifa, the Marina, some amazing food. Said he’d just needed to clear his head.”
“Did he seem different when he came back?” Hudson asked.
