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She studies me for another moment before walking toward the stairs with Birdie and Reid. I remain by the door, her name lingering in the air long after she disappears.

Drew enters after the women leave and places a sealed bag containing the paper fragments on the table.

“Accounts Payable is secured,” he reports. “No one admits using the shredder after six. Three employees have access to the office, but all three claim they were at the pavilion when Cassie entered the building.”

“Can the cameras confirm it?” I ask, returning to the chair at the head of the table.

“Two appear on pavilion footage during part of the relevant period. The third, Martin Hill, appears near the service entrance at seven fourteen, then disappears from every camera for eleven minutes.” Drew removes his phone and opens a photograph of a man in his late forties wearing a vineyard suit. “He says he went outside to take a call from his wife.”

“Verify the call and question the wife separately,” I order, returning the phone.

“Already in progress.” Drew moves to the next image, showing the dark corridor outside Accounts Payable. “The person left through the lobby at seven twenty-two. The camera caught a shoulder and part of a dark jacket, but the face remained outside the frame.”

“What about height?” I ask, enlarging the blurred figure.

“Between five ten and six feet, based on the door. That includes half the male staff and several guests.” He puts the phone away. “The rear camera was disabled through the building panel. Whoever did it either had access or knew where the override was located.”

The tasting gave the intruder cover among unfamiliar faces. Whoever shredded the records knew which camera to disable but missed the lobby feed or accepted the risk.

“Review every guest and temporary worker as well as employees,” I tell him. “Compare the paper stock, ink, and fragments with the VHL file. I want the shredded pages reconstructed.”

“That may take days,” Drew warns, slipping the phone into his pocket.

“Then begin tonight,” I answer, and he nods without objection.

His phone vibrates, and he reads the message twice. “The outside firm identified the SUV from the lower service-road footage.”

I rise as he turns the screen toward me. The image shows the dark SUV near the lower gate on Wednesday night. Its plate is readable in the patrol car’s recording, and the registration record beside it identifies the owner.

“It’s registered to Alder Crest Holdings,” Drew says. “The address is a rented mailbox in Seattle. No public website, listed employees, or active business license under that name.”

“A shell company,” I say, studying the Seattle address.

“It appears so. The registered agent also filed the formation documents for Vintner Hospitality Logistics.” Drew rests both hands on the table. “The SUV is connected to VHL.”

The office seems colder as I study the vehicle. VHL received fraudulent payments, entered our records through a bank reference, and now connects to the SUV used during the attack on our electrical system. Connor wrote the vendor’s initials before he disappeared, which proves these are no longer separate problems.

I call Reid and tell him to return to my office. While we wait, Drew explains the registration, and I send the documents to the secure server. Reid arrives several minutes later with his laptop tucked beneath his arm. After taking the chair beside Drew, he opens the registration file, reads through it, and repeats the name.

“Alder Crest Holdings doesn’t appear anywhere in our accounts.”

“Search again using addresses, agents, telephone numbers, bank accounts, and tax identifiers,” I instruct him. “Compare it with every vendor added during the last two years.”

“I’ll have the forensic accountants begin now.” Reid types a brief note, then looks at me again. “What did Cassie find?”

“Not enough to read, although Drew will reconstruct it.” I close the registration record and lower the laptop screen. “Connor’s notes name VHL and D. Morozov. Cassie and Birdie will review them with us tomorrow.”

Reid’s expression changes at her name. “You trust her?”

“No.” The answer comes easily, but it feels incomplete. “I believe she knows nothing about the fraud and doesn’t know where Connor is. That doesn’t mean she’s shown us everything.”

“She entered a restricted building during a private event and searched an accounting office,” Drew says. “Caution seems reasonable.”

“She also found someone destroying documents while forty people drank wine fifty yards away,” Reid replies. “None of our staff reported the noise or the open door.”

“Curiosity can be useful, but it can also make her a target,” I say. “Have Harris follow her car when she leaves, and tell him to keep enough distance that she doesn’t feel pursued.”

Drew takes out his phone. “I’ll call him now.”