Page 81 of A Vintage of Regret
“Well, it wasn’t. It was a sizable amount. Enough, that it cleaned out their savings and some of Parker's retirement fund. Your mother also re-mortgaged her house.”
“Jesus,” Grant muttered. “That’s a lot of fucking money. Over a million.”
“Shall I continue?” Delcan asked, glancing around the room.
Grant waved his hand.
“A few months back, small deposits started showing up in Elizabeth’s account. Nothing overtly sizeable. Nothing that would make anyone question it. Cash or money orders. Theamounts don’t exactly match the missing revitalization fund withdrawals, but the timing’s close enough to raise suspicion. Could be coincidence. Could be cover.”
Grant shifted, tugging at his pant legs, his jaw flexing, face turning red as if someone had set the room on fire.
“Since I don’t trust my ex-wife as far as I can spit, and Sandy had her in for an interview, Riley snapped this picture of her and Elizabeth yesterday.” Bryson lifted his phone and showed the image he’d had Riley forward to him.
“What’s this?” Declan asked.
“We don’t know.” Riley took Bryson’s hand, but her gaze was on her brother. “Mom and Monica were near a boutique. The two were having a bit of an exchange. It looked a little heated. Mom was tense. Monica didn’t look happy.”
“Any idea what was in the package?” Grant held out his hand, and Declan passed the phone. “It’s not very big. Just an oversized envelope that bulges in the middle.”
“I couldn’t even begin to guess,” Riley said.
“Do these two women have a reason to have a secret meeting?” Declan asked.
“Monica has had Elizabeth do some work on the Main Street beautification project. So, I suppose anything is possible.” Walter leaned against the desk. “But both women are all about appearances. They’re the type who enjoy being seen. Being heard. Side streets are not their style.”
Bryson pointed at the cell, then the stack of papers. “Sandy needs to see all of this.”
“And she will, but it needs to be done the right way.” Harlan lifted a hand. “Through proper channels. We can’t have this coming back and making Grant look bad,” Harlan said.
Declan flipped a page in his notebook. “One last thing—the fund’s ledger shows edits under Grant’s credentials. I had my ITspecialist do a deep dive. Those edits originated from Elizabeth’s home IP address.”
The room went still, the mantel clock ticking in the corner like it was keeping score.
Grant’s voice, when it came, was low and frayed. “This isn’t happening. It doesn’t make sense. Even with all this new information, I can’t—or maybe I refuse—to piece it together.”
“Sandy will find the missing threads, and when she pulls it, this thing will completely unravel,” Bryson's father said in that deep, calm tone that made Bryson remember just how lucky he’d been to have been born into such a great family—wealth truly meant nothing without love.
Grant looked between Bryson and Riley. “I know I’ve said this a million times, but I didn’t take that money. I didn’t hurt my father. But I also can’t believe my own mother would mastermind something like this. She’s a little nutty, but she… she wouldn’t do that to me. I’m her son.”
“We’re going to find the answers.” Bryson held his gaze. “No matter what they are, just remember, no one in this room believes you’re guilty of anything.”
Seventeen
Riley sat on the back patio, book in her lap, gaze scanning the words on the page, but none of them reached her brain. Her mind filled with questions that she had no answers for, and her heart ached with a sadness that couldn’t be comforted. She turned her head. Bryson sat next to her, legs stretched out, arms resting in his lap, eyes closed, as his chest gently rose and fell.
“How can you sleep like that?” she asked.
He chuckled. “I’m not. But if you thought I was, why would you wake me?” He opened an eye.
“Because I can’t stand people who can doze sitting in a chair.”
“Says the woman who told me she slept in a tent, in a sleeping bag, with no air mattress, for more than a month.”
“Yeah, because I was horizontal, not partially vertical.”
“Semantics.” He shifted, sitting taller.
“Shouldn’t you be working?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s only four.”
