Chapter 28 - Shadows on the Pier
The cab ride to Charlestown took twenty agonizing minutes as the midday traffic choked the bridges crossing the Boston Harbor. The sky had turned a bruised, metallic purple, and the wind whipped stinging salt spray across the windshield as we pulled up near the deserted wooden planks of the historic naval yard.
"She’s lying," Daniel muttered as we stepped out into the biting cold, pulling our coats tight against the gale. "Or she’s trying to set up a diversion to salvage a plea deal with the U.S. Attorney."
"Maybe," I said, scanning the empty, weather-beaten piers where rusted cranes stood like skeletal giants against the horizon. "But if Robert is still reaching out from behind federal holding cells, Investigator Harris needs to know immediately. Let's look for her."
The old pier was largely abandoned save for a few docked lobster boats rocking violently against their moorings. A thin, solitary figure huddled near the corner of a derelict brick warehouse, wearing an oversized beige trench coat with the hood pulled low over her face.
As we approached across the splintered wooden boards, Celeste turned. Her face was pale, devoid of the immaculate makeup and sharp confidence she had worn during her tenure at the firm. Her eyes darted nervously toward every passing shadow.
"You came," she breathed, clutching her coat tighter around her throat. "I didn't think you'd actually answer the phone."
"Cut the dramatics, Celeste," Daniel said, stopping a safe distance away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "You helped siphon millions through the St. Lucia accounts. You bought your way into this nightmare just as willingly as Robert orchestrated it. Why are you calling us?"
Celeste let out a bitter, humorless laugh that got swallowed by the wind. "You think Robert was the mastermind? You think he sat in some back office dreaming up offshore shell companies all by himself?" She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a frantic whisper. "Robert was the front man, Daniel. He was the loud, arrogant face of the family who loved playing corporate chess. But the person who actually set up the secondary routing servers—the ones the federal raid missed last week—is still sitting on the board."
May you like
I felt a cold chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the ocean wind. "Who?"
Before Celeste could answer, a blinding pair of high beams cut through the gloom at the end of the pier. A heavy black sedan roared around the corner of the brick warehouse, its tires screaming against the wet gravel as it accelerated directly toward us.
