Chapter 15 - Graham Pike
Graham gave them an address outside Bowling Green.
An abandoned roadside motel.
Reed wanted a tactical team.
Graham refused.
One detective. Arthur. No marked cars.
“You are not a hostage negotiator,” Clara told Arthur.
“He forged my signature and helped sabotage Rebecca’s car. I’m going.”
“That is not a reason.”
“It is to me.”
At dusk, Arthur and Reed entered room twelve.
Graham Pike looked twenty years older than Arthur remembered.
His hands shook.
He had not shaved.
A laptop sat open beside him.
“You brought police,” Graham said.
“One detective.”
“You promised—”
“I promised nothing.” Arthur shut the door. “Talk.”
Graham laughed nervously. “Still direct.”
“Did you cut Rebecca’s brake line?”
The color left Graham’s face.
“Yes.”
Arthur crossed the room before Reed could stop him.
He grabbed Graham by the shirt and slammed him into the wall.
“You killed my wife.”
“I didn’t mean to!”
Reed pulled Arthur back.
“Arthur!”
Graham slid to the floor.
“Elena told me to disable the car. She said Rebecca needed to miss an audit meeting. I cut too deep. The line failed faster than I expected.”
“You let her drive.”
“I panicked.”
“You got paid.”
Graham covered his face.
“Yes.”
Arthur wanted to hit him again.
Instead, he asked, “Why forge my guarantee?”
“Lucas had recordings of me admitting what happened. He said if I didn’t help, he would send them to police.”
“So you committed more crimes to hide the first one.”
“Yes.”
Graham opened the laptop.
“I kept copies. Metadata. Drafts. Elena sent me a scan of your signature. Lucas hired a voice actor for the bank verification.”
Reed leaned closer.
“This can void the guarantee.”
“And put them away,” Graham said.
Arthur stared at him.
“Why come forward now?”
Graham looked terrified.
“Because Lucas tried to have me killed yesterday.”
As if summoned by the sentence, glass exploded inward.
Reed dragged Arthur down.
A second shot punched through the motel wall.
“Back room!” Reed shouted.
Graham crawled toward the bathroom.
Arthur grabbed the laptop.
Outside, tires screamed.
Reed fired through the broken window at the fleeing vehicle.
Then Graham made a choking sound.
Arthur turned.
Blood spread across Graham’s shirt.
The first bullet had hit him.
Graham grabbed Arthur’s wrist.
“The backup,” he gasped.
“Where?”
“Your house.”
Arthur leaned closer.
“What?”
“Rebecca hid it. Behind… the blue wall.”
His hand went limp.
Arthur stared at him.
May you like
Rebecca’s old study had one blue wall.
Elena had ordered it painted white the week after their wedding.
