Chapter 9: The Contractor Who Never Came

Daniel called me early the next morning.

"The investigators found the contractor," he said.

I sat up in bed.

"And?"

"He says he never replaced the North Ridge cable."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

"Then who did?"

"That's the problem. According to the company's records, the work was completed. According to the contractor, it wasn't."

My hands tightened around the phone.

"Can they prove who signed the inspection?"

"We're working on it."

Daniel paused.

"There's another issue. The payment went through a subcontracting account that doesn't belong to the contractor."

"Whose account?"

"A company controlled by someone named Victor Hale."

The name meant nothing to me.

Then Daniel added, "He's Bennett Mountain Adventures' largest private investor."

My stomach dropped.

My father's business partner.

"Does my father know?"

"He says he doesn't."

I almost laughed.

"He always says that when something goes wrong."

"Mara, listen carefully. The investigators believe the maintenance records may have been falsified before your accident."

I looked toward the window.

Edinburgh was covered in morning fog.

"Are they saying someone deliberately left the cable unsafe?"

"We're not there yet. But they're treating it as potential criminal misconduct."

After the call ended, I sat quietly for a long time.

I had spent years believing my family simply valued Lily more than me.

Now I was beginning to wonder whether my life had been placed at risk for a completely different reason.

That afternoon, Professor Hart found me in the library.

"Daniel contacted the university," she said.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. But he wants you to know that investigators have requested the original files from your personal devices."

"They can have them."

"They also found something interesting."

She handed me a printed document.

It was a maintenance invoice from Bennett Mountain Adventures.

The description read: North Ridge Safety Cable Replacement.

The amount was nearly forty thousand dollars.

At the bottom was a handwritten approval.

Graham Bennett.

I stared at the signature.

"My father approved the payment."

"Yes."

"But the contractor says he never did the work."

"Correct."

I turned the page over.

There was another signature.

Denise Bennett.

My mother.

Both of them had approved the payment.

Neither had reported a missing repair.

Neither had warned anyone that the cable might still be unsafe.

I suddenly remembered the morning of my accident.

My father had told me the route was safe.

He had specifically said the North Ridge boardwalk had been inspected after the last storm.

I had trusted him because he was my father.

That trust had nearly killed me.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Lily appeared on the screen.

"Please come home. Dad says the investigators are destroying everything."

A second message followed.

"He needs you to tell them you misunderstood what happened."

I stared at the screen.

Not an apology.

Not concern about my injuries.

Not even a question about whether I was recovering.

They wanted me to lie.

I typed a response.

"I won't lie for you anymore."

I deleted it before sending.

Then I blocked the number.

That evening, Daniel called again.

"The investigators found the missing inspection report."

"Where?"

"In your father's private office."

My breath caught.

"What does it say?"

"It was never completed."

I closed my eyes.

The truth was finally coming together.

The cable hadn't been replaced.

The inspection hadn't happened.

The company had paid someone anyway.

And when I called for help, my father had downgraded my emergency.

Daniel's voice softened.

"Mara, I need to ask you something difficult."

"What?"

"Did your father know you were the person assigned to verify North Ridge that morning?"

I remembered the casual conversation over breakfast.

The route sheet on the counter.

His eyes passing over it before he told me to check the boardwalk.

"Yes," I said.

"He knew."

Silence followed.

Then Daniel said, "We'll make sure the investigators know that."

I ended the call and looked at the Edinburgh skyline.

For years, I had wondered why my family never seemed afraid of losing me.

Now I was starting to understand.

They hadn't believed I would ever stop protecting them.

They had mistaken my loyalty for weakness.

They were about to learn the difference.