“I will. And Graham, when the order comes through, it’ll come through fast. These things stall and then they break. I’ll call you the moment we have it.”
I hung up and stood in mum’s kitchen, staring at the loch through the window, and thought about Rose in Manhattan. In Maggie’s apartment. Not answering her phone. Gone somewhere so deep inside herself that even the people who loved her couldn’t follow.
I couldn’t reach her. Not yet. I couldn’t prove what Denise had done. Not yet. I couldn’t give Rose back her judgment, or her trust, or the life that had been stolen from under her.
I called Dex. He picked up on the first ring, and I told him everything Kaya had said. The sale to Garrett Wilson. The horses gone to four different homes across three states. Rose in Manhattan with Maggie. Not answering anyone’s phone.
Dex was quiet for a long time after I finished.
“Christ,” he said finally. “Graham, I’m sorry.”
“I need to do something.”
“I know. Just don’t do anything stupid until I can get up there. Give me a few days.”
I agreed to wait. Hung up.
Then I thought about the horses. They were in good homes, Kaya said. Good people. But they were Rose’s horses. Her family. And they were scattered everywhere because of a crime Rose didn’t even know Denise had committed.
I picked up the phone and called Kaya back.
Malcolm called nine days later.
I was walking the path along the loch, the only thing that passed for exercise, long slow walks with no destination and too much time to think. My phone rang and I saw his name and stopped walking.
“Tell me,” I said.
“The judge came through.” The relief in Malcolm’s voice told me everything. “Court order was approved yesterday morning. First Mountain Bank released the account records this afternoon. My forensic team has spent hours going through everything.”
I held my breath.
“The operating account for TKM Digital Solutions was opened at First Mountain Bank on March fifteenth of this year. Three days after incorporation. The account has two authorized signatories.”
“Taylor and?”
“Taylor Marsh and Denise Harlow.”
I closed my eyes.
“Denise Harlow,” I repeated.
“She’s listed as the secondary signatory on the account. Her signature is on the original bank documents. Her social security number is on the application.” Malcolm paused. “This isn’t circumstantial, Graham. She signed the paperwork. In person. At the bank. Three months before Taylor Marsh ever set foot on Gracen Ranch.”
I sat down on a rock beside the loch and put my head in my hands.
We had it. Denise’s name, in her own handwriting, on the account that received every stolen dollar.
“Can you send me the documentation?” I asked.
“Already in your email. Certified copies from the bank, obtained through proper legal channels. They’ll hold up in court if it comes to that.”
“Thank you, Malcolm.”
I hung up and sat on that rock for a long time. The loch stretched out in front of me, flat and still. A heron stood in the shallows, perfectly motionless, watching for something beneath the surface.
I pulled up Rose’s number on my phone. Stared at it.
She still wasn’t answering. She was in Manhattan with Maggie, and I had the proof that could change everything. But proof delivered to a voicemail wasn’t proof at all. This needed to be face-to-face. Rose deserved to see the documents, hold theevidence, watch Denise’s signature stare back at her from a bank form. She deserved to know the truth in a way that couldn’t be dismissed or explained away or softened by distance.
