“The board has ordered a complete halt to all construction at Harbor Point.”

“The gates are being locked in thirty minutes.”

Grant looked around the room, his eyes darting from Caleb, to the detective, and finally to me.

For the first time in fifteen years, he had absolutely nothing to say.

His phone began to ring in his pocket, the sharp, repetitive chime filling the silence.

He did not answer it.

He just stood there, watching the screen of his phone light up again and again through the fabric of his trousers.

The silence in the conference room of the Meridian Hotel was heavy, smelling of expensive carpet cleaner and the salt air drifting through the open terrace doors.

Grant’s phone vibrated against his thigh again, a low, mechanical hum that seemed to vibrate right through the mahogany table.

He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled it out.

The screen illuminated his face, casting a pale blue glow over his tight jaw and the deep lines around his eyes.

“Answer it, Grant,” Caleb said, his voice flat.