Chapter 7 - The Interrogation
The covered stone walkway connecting the main house to the west guest lodge was slick with rain as Frank, Emily, and I moved through the shadows.
The storm had begun to taper into a steady, freezing drizzle, but the wind off the ocean still howled through the granite balustrades.
“Stay behind us, Emily,” Frank warned, resting his hand on the butt of his weapon as we approached the heavy oak door of the guest lodge.
“No,” I said, stopping at the threshold. “Emily comes inside with us. If Julian tries to spin a medical lie, she’s the only one here who can dismantle it on the spot.”
Emily gave a single, firm nod. “I’m ready, Mr. Carter.”
I pushed the heavy door open without knocking.
The guest lodge was warm, scented with expensive cedarwood and aged tobacco.
In the center of the living room, Julian Carter sat in a deep leather armchair beside a roaring fire, a crystal tumbler of Macallan 25 resting on the side table.
He was thirty-four, three years younger than me, with the same sharp jawline and dark hair that ran in the Carter family, though his eyes carried a restless, hollow hunger I had ignored for far too long.
“Michael!” Julian exclaimed, jumping to his feet with an expression of immediate, manufactured concern. “Thank God! I saw the helicopter lights from the window! What on earth happened? Is Noah alright?”
I didn't answer. I walked slowly across the Persian rug, stopping five feet from his chair while Frank quietly closed the heavy door behind us and turned the deadbolt.
Julian’s eyes flicked to Frank, then to Emily standing silently in her maid uniform, and finally down to my hands.
“Michael? You’re scaring me, man,” Julian said, offering a nervous chuckle. “What’s going on? Did the doctors say what caused the seizure?”
“Who told you he had a seizure, Julian?” I asked, my voice calm, level, and lethal.
Julian blinked, his smile faltering slightly. “Well... I assumed. What else makes a baby stop breathing out of nowhere?”
“A high-potency transdermal fentanyl patch,” Emily said from the doorway, her voice ringing clear across the room.
Julian flinched as if he had been struck across the face, his gaze snapping violently toward Emily. “Who the hell let the cleaning girl in here? Michael, why are you bringing domestic staff into a private family emergency?”
“Answer the question, Julian,” I said, stepping closer until the warmth of the hearth fell across my face. “How did you know Noah had a medical emergency if you’ve been sitting in this lodge since three-thirty?”
“I heard the sirens!” Julian said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Twelve emergency vehicles came screaming up the driveway! What was I supposed to think?”
“A normal man walks across the lawn to check on his nephew,” Frank said from the door, his arms crossed over his chest. “You stayed inside, poured yourself three fingers of scotch, and never dialed Michael’s phone once.”
“I didn’t want to get in the way of the paramedics!” Julian protested, backing away until his thighs hit the leather armchair. “Michael, look at me! I’m your brother! We built Carter Maritime together after Dad died!”
“You didn’t build anything, Julian,” I said softly. “You took twenty million dollars of family trust capital and lost it in private equity ventures across Singapore.”
Julian’s face flushed crimson. “That was a market correction! I was going to pay it back after the quarterly board vote tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow’s board vote,” I repeated, the final pieces of the puzzle locking together in my mind with terrifying clarity. “The irrevocable trust agreement our father created.”
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Emily looked up, catching the shift in the room’s atmosphere. “Mr. Carter, what is the trust agreement?”
“If I die, or if my direct line of succession ends before Noah turns twenty-one,” I said, keeping my eyes fixed on Julian’s pale face, “the entire voting control of Carter Maritime passes automatically to my brother.”
