Chapter 253
In the end, Katniss didn't press further. She gave a small nod, turned, and left the office.
---
The night pooled thick as ink outside the windows.
Cedric sat in his study, the desk lamp casting the only light, illuminating the stack of documents spread before him. His finger pressed against one page, the tip white with pressure.
On the other end of the phone, the private investigator's voice was low.
"Mr. York, I pulled Jason's bank records after his release. Every month on the fifth, a wire transfer of one hundred thousand dollars hit his account. Thirteen months straight. Stopped one month before his death."
"Who sent it?"
"Another shell company. I traced it—the registered representative is a local, but the actual controller's information is buried under layers of encryption. Hard to crack."
Cedric was silent for a few seconds. "What else?"
"Three days before Jason died, he made a call from a payphone. The number traces back to this city, but it's been disconnected. The registered owner's info is fake."
"Location of the payphone?"
"Old residential area in the Gemstone District. Surveillance cameras in that neighborhood have been broken for years. No footage."
Cedric closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose hard between thumb and forefinger.
"Keep digging into that shell company. Spare no expense. I want to know whose pocket that money came from."
After hanging up, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.
Jason was dead. The trail was cold.
But money doesn't appear from nowhere, and it doesn't vanish into thin air. A hundred thousand a month. Thirteen months.
For a man fired from the York Group with a criminal record, that was no small sum.
Who would be generous enough to bankroll a worthless ex-con?
Unless—Jason still had value.
Or rather, Jason knew too much, and the money was meant to keep his mouth shut.
Cedric opened his eyes, picked up his phone, and scrolled to a name he hadn't contacted in a long time.
His finger hovered over the screen. He hesitated, then pressed dial.
Three rings. The call connected.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end was thick with sleep.
"Craig, it's me. Cedric."
Two seconds of silence. The voice sharpened. "Mr. York? It's late. What's going on?"
"You used to work in the financial crimes unit, right?"
"Yeah. Retired five years ago. Why?"
"I need help tracing a money trail. Can't go through official channels—I need someone with connections."
Another pause. Then, low: "How big are we talking?"
"International shell companies. Possibly tied to a homicide."
"...Mr. York, this isn't small."
"I know. Name your price."
A few seconds of deliberation. "Tomorrow afternoon, three o'clock. The usual place."
"Done."
Cedric hung up and set the phone face-down on the desk. His gaze returned to the investigation report.
The company's name: Bluharbor Capital.
He repeated it silently. Something about it nagged at him—he'd seen it somewhere before. But he couldn't place it.
---
The next morning, Katniss walked into the rehabilitation center's inpatient wing carrying a fruit basket.
The hallway smelled of familiar antiseptic. She quickened her pace, stopped outside Cody's room, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.
Cody was propped up against his pillows, reading the newspaper through his bifocals. When he saw her, he pulled them off immediately, his face breaking into a smile that deepened every wrinkle.
"Katniss!"
"Grandpa." She set the fruit basket on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling today?"
"Great. Doctor says I can go home to rest next week."
Cody folded his newspaper and set it aside, then looked her up and down. His brow furrowed slightly.
"It's you I'm worried about. Have you lost weight again?"
Katniss smiled and shook her head. "No, just been busy with work. Haven't been eating properly."
"Work, work, always work."
Cody let out a disapproving huff.
"Would the York Group fall apart without you? That boy Cedric doesn't know how to take care of his people. I'll have a word with him."
"Grandpa, really, I'm fine."
Katniss picked up an apple and began peeling it.
"There's just a lot going on at the company right now. A bit of pressure."
Cody watched her peel the apple, his gaze lingering for a moment on her slightly trembling fingers. He said nothing.
The room fell quiet. Only the soft rasp of the knife against fruit skin broke the silence.
After a while, Cody spoke. "Sweetheart, tell me the truth. Are you and Cedric having problems again?"
Katniss's hand jerked. The blade nearly caught her finger.
She steadied her breathing, kept her head down, and continued peeling. "No. Everything's fine."
Cody saw right through her. He let out a heavy sigh.
Only then did Katniss's hands go completely still.
She held the half-peeled apple, head bowed, staring at the juice stain slowly spreading across her knee. Her throat felt like something was lodged inside it.
Cody reached out and placed his hand over her cold one, patting it gently.
"Sweetheart, if that boy does wrong by you again, don't just take it. I'll stand up for you."
Her eyes burned instantly.
She blinked hard, forcing the heat back, then looked up with a smile she'd pieced together. "Grandpa, really, it's nothing. After what happened last time... I stopped caring about all that a long time ago."
Cody studied her eyes for a long time. Finally, he sighed and released her hand.
"You always swallow everything down, don't you?"
He shook his head.
"Fine. If you don't want to talk, I won't push. But remember this—what the York family owes you, I keep a tally."
Katniss handed him the peeled apple with a smile. "Here, Grandpa. Eat your apple."
Cody took it and bit in.
Katniss watched his weathered face, a thousand words churning inside her. Every one of them fighting to come out.
About Lillian. The listening device. The suspicion and hurt that kept her awake at night.
But in the end, she said nothing.
Cody had only just started recovering. The doctor said he couldn't handle any more stress.
She couldn't burden him.
---
Outside the rehabilitation center, Katniss sat in her car, hands on the steering wheel, staring at nothing.
Her phone rang. Her assistant.
"Ms. Astor, I've sent the materials for the three o'clock meeting to your inbox. Is there anything else you need me to prepare?"
"No. I'll be at the office soon."
She hung up and started the engine. But as she pulled out of the parking lot, something made her flick on her turn signal in the opposite direction.
By the time she came back to herself, the car was parked outside the detention center gates.
Gray walls topped with razor wire. A stone-faced officer sitting in the guard booth by the entrance.