The briefest crack in the surface. There and gone so fast that anyone else would have missed it.
But I wasn’t anyone else. And I didn’t miss it.
“TKM Digital Solutions.” I dropped my voice low enough that only she could hear. “March twelfth. Three months before Taylor started.”
Her smile didn’t waver. Her eyes did.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. Still warm. Still concerned. Still performing.
“You will.” I locked eyes with her for one more second, long enough to make sure she understood that this wasn’t a guess, wasn’t a feeling, wasn’t some boyfriend throwing accusations. This was a man who’d found the thread and intended to pull until the whole thing unraveled. “Take care of yourself, Denise.”
I walked to the van without looking back.
Behind me, I heard Denise say something bright and cheerful to Kaya. Something about checking in on Rose later, about making sure she ate, about being there for her.
The performance continued.
But I’d seen the crack. And cracks don’t close. They spread.
I got in the van. Dex drove. Olivia took the passenger seat, laptop bag between her feet. Jamie sat in the back with her headphones on, staring out the window. I sat behind Dex and watched the ranch shrink in the side mirror. Barn, main house, paddock fence, the mountain ridge behind it all. Getting smaller and smaller until we turned onto the county road and it disappeared.
The photographers watched us go. One of them raised a camera. Dex gave him the finger without taking his eyes off the road.
We drove in silence for ten minutes. Then Olivia turned in her seat.
“Graham.” Her voice was low enough that Jamie wouldn’t hear over whatever she was listening to. “We need to talk.”
I already knew from her expression. The same flat, careful look she’d worn in her cabin when she’d shown me TKM, except now it was harder. Heavier.
“The incorporation documents came back,” she said. “I got them yesterday. I didn’t want to tell you before you said goodbye to Rose.”
“And?”
“Taylor Marsh is the sole organizer, sole registered agent, sole signatory on TKM Digital Solutions. His name is on everything. Every line, every document, every filing.” She paused. “Denise isn’t there.”
My last thread of hope snapped.
“That’s not possible. The timeline. TKM was registered three months before Taylor started at the ranch.”
“I know. And I agree it doesn’t add up. But the documents don’t show Denise. Not as an organizer, not as an agent, not as a signatory. Nothing.” Olivia’s jaw tightened. “Whoever set this up was smart enough to keep her name completely off the paper trail. Everything runs through Taylor. If you showed these documents to a judge, a lawyer, or Rose, they’d see Taylor acting alone.”
Dex glanced in the rearview mirror but said nothing.
“I’ve been at this for a week,” Olivia said. “I’ve searched every public database I can access. Cross-referenced every vendor filing, every business registration, every address connected to TKM and its subsidiaries. I found the smoke, plenty of it. But the door I can’t kick down is the banking side. Who opened the accounts. Who has signatory authority. Where the money actually went after it left the shell companies.” She reached into her laptop bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “This needs a professional. Someone who can subpoena bank records, trace fund flows, get access to the things I can’t see from a laptop.”
She held out the paper. I took it.
A name and phone number in Olivia’s handwriting. Malcolm Hale.
“He handled our corporate restructuring two years ago,” Olivia said. “London-based. Meticulous. The kind of lawyer who finds things other lawyers miss. More importantly, he’s got a network of forensic accountants and financial investigators on both sides of the Atlantic. If anyone can trace the connection between Denise and TKM, it’s someone in Malcolm’s network.”
I stared at the name. “You’ve already spoken to him?”
“I called him this morning. Gave him the broad strokes, no names, no details, just enough to confirm he could handle domestic forensic work in Colorado. He can. He’s waiting for your call to get the full scope.”
I pulled out my phone. Dialed the number on the paper.
Malcolm answered on the third ring.
