Chapter 7 - THE RECORDING WITH NO NAME.
A Mercer parking permit did not identify the driver.
Blake repeated that sentence to himself until he was sick of it.
It did not prove Travis had been in the SUV.
It did not prove anyone connected to Mercer had caused Emily’s crash.
It did not prove the SUV had even remained behind her once both vehicles passed the gas station.
It proved one thing.
A vehicle displaying a Mercer employee parking permit traveled in the same direction as Emily twelve seconds after she passed the camera.
That was enough to ask questions.
Not enough to answer them.
Emily’s new attorney agreed.
Her name was Naomi Price.
Forty-one.
Former assistant county attorney.
Small office over a dental practice.
She did not have Mercer money.
She had something Blake trusted more.
She said “I don’t know” without embarrassment.
When Blake showed her the recordings, she did not call them explosive.
She called them “potentially useful.”
When he showed her the gas-station information, she said, “Interesting.”
Not proof.
Interesting.
Blake liked her immediately.
Naomi sat beside Emily’s hospital bed with a yellow legal pad.
“First priority is your health.”
Emily looked at the metal frames around her legs.
“Good news. I remembered.”
Naomi smiled.
“Second priority is preserving evidence.”
Blake handed her copies.
“Not originals?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She looked at Emily.
“Who else has copies?”
Emily named Ruth.
Naomi wrote it down.
“Anybody else?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Blake looked at his wife.
Emily looked guilty.
“How many?”
“Two more.”
Blake stared at her.
Naomi held up one hand.
“I’m going to save your marriage by asking the next question.”
Emily almost smiled.
“Who has them?”
“One is in a safe-deposit box.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
“And the other?”
Emily’s expression changed.
“The employee.”
Naomi stopped writing.
“The anonymous Mercer employee?”
“Yes.”
“You gave them a copy?”
“Only their interview.”
“Why?”
“Because they were scared I’d change it.”
Naomi nodded.
“That actually makes sense.”
Blake looked at Emily.
“It does?”
“Yes. A witness may want proof of exactly what they said.”
He leaned back.
“Fine.”
Naomi continued.
“Now tell me what happened before the crash.”
Emily described her day.
She had met Ruth in the morning.
Visited the county office.
Spent two hours at home organizing documents.
At 7:10 p.m., she received a message from the anonymous employee.
Meet tonight. Same place. Important.
“Same place?”
Naomi asked.
Emily hesitated.
“A diner.”
“Which?”
“Franklin’s.”
Blake knew it.
Twenty-four-hour place near the highway.
“Did you meet?”
“Yes.”
“What did the employee give you?”
“Nothing physical.”
“What did they tell you?”
Emily looked toward the door.
Naomi followed the glance.
“No one’s listening.”
Emily seemed unconvinced.
Then she spoke.
The employee had discovered that multiple problematic properties shared one internal approval code.
Not a county code.
Mercer’s internal code.
C-17.
Naomi frowned.
“Parcel Seventeen?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Did the employee say that?”
“No.”
“What did they say C-17 means?”
“They didn’t know.”
Blake interrupted.
“They work there and don’t know?”
“Big company,” Emily said. “Different departments.”
“What department?”
“Acquisitions support.”
Naomi asked, “Did they say who uses C-17?”
“Yes.”
Emily swallowed.
“Travis.”
Blake’s body tightened.
Naomi stayed calm.
“Exact wording.”
Emily looked at the recorder.
“We recorded it.”
They played the file.
The employee’s voice had been altered slightly by distance, but it was recognizable as male.
“I checked three of the properties you gave me.”
Emily: “And?”
“Same approval notation.”
“What notation?”
“C-17.”
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who enters it?”
“I’ve seen it come from Travis’s office.”
“From Travis himself?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So you don’t know.”
“No.”
The witness was careful.
Good.
Then Emily asked:
“Why are you scared?”
Long pause.
“Because Ruth Holloway’s deed should never have cleared internal review.”
“Why?”
“Because the ID copy was wrong.”
Blake leaned forward.
Emily on the recording: “What ID?”
“When a seller signs certain documents, we keep identification.”
“What was wrong?”
“Expiration date.”
“How wrong?”
“It expired six years ago.”
“That happens.”
“Ruth’s current ID was renewed three years ago.”
“So?”
“So the copy in the file was from before she supposedly signed.”
Naomi paused the recording.
“That doesn’t prove fraud.”
“No,” Emily said.
“But it is inconsistent.”
“Yes.”
Naomi resumed.
Employee: “There’s more.”
Emily: “What?”
“The signature page was uploaded before the notary page.”
“Is that unusual?”
“In our system? Not necessarily.”
“What is unusual?”
“The metadata.”
A rustle of paper.
Then:
“The signature image was created two days before the meeting date written on the deed.”
Naomi stopped the file again.
Blake looked at her.
“That matters.”
“It could.”
“Why ‘could’?”
“Because digital files can be scanned, copied, regenerated. Metadata needs authentication.”
Blake nodded reluctantly.
They continued.
Emily asked the witness whether Travis knew.
The answer came immediately.
“I don’t know.”
“Does Travis review black parcels?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“I think so.”
“Think or know?”
“I’ve seen his initials on four.”
“Ruth?”
“Yes.”
“Parcel Seventeen?”
“Yes.”
The recording ended there.
Naomi sat quietly.
Emily looked at Blake.
“That’s why I said Travis was stealing land.”
Naomi spoke before Blake could.
“It’s stronger than what you had before.”
“But?”
“But the recording proves a Mercer employee said these things. We still need records confirming the statements.”
Emily nodded.
Naomi looked at her.
“Do you know the employee’s identity?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell me?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“No.”
Naomi did not argue immediately.
Then she said, “Emily, attorney-client privilege exists for a reason.”
“I know.”
“If this becomes litigation, I need to know where evidence comes from.”
“I know.”
“If that person disappears, changes their story, or gets fired—”
Emily’s eyes opened.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The room went quiet.
Blake finally asked the question that had been sitting between them.
“Did the employee meet you the night of the crash?”
“Yes.”
“Did anybody see you together?”
Emily looked at him.
“I don’t know.”
“What happened after the diner?”
“I drove home.”
“Why County Road Nine?”
“It’s faster.”
“Did the employee leave before you?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
“Vehicle?”
Emily hesitated.
Naomi noticed.
“What?”
Emily’s face had gone pale.
“The employee drives an SUV.”
Blake stood.
“What kind?”
“Dark GMC.”
The same possibility hit all three of them at once.
Blake spoke first.
“Was the employee following you?”
Emily looked terrified by the thought.
“I don’t know.”
Naomi leaned forward.
“Emily, this is important. Could the SUV behind you have been the person who gave you the recordings?”
“They didn’t give me recordings.”
“Information.”
“Yes.”
“Could it have been them?”
Emily closed her eyes.
“I never thought of that.”
Blake felt something shift.
For days, every fear had pointed toward one direction.
Mercer.
Travis.
Threat.
Now the same vehicle that looked suspicious could belong to the person Emily was protecting.
Naomi packed the recorder carefully.
“We need the witness.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
“We may need them to clear themselves as much as anything else.”
Emily stared at Naomi.
Then at Blake.
Finally she whispered:
“Their name is Daniel Reed.”
Blake knew that name.
Not personally.
But he had seen it less than twenty-four hours earlier.
May you like
On the county document Elaine Porter had shown him.
Daniel Reed was one of the witnesses listed on the boundary-adjustment filing for Parcel Seventeen.
