She was targeting people with reputations for being discreet and connected. The types who liked being in the room where decisions were made but didn’t want their names in headlines. In other words, people who wouldn’t run to the press if she scammed them.
We also noticed something else.
Her timing lined up with mine.
She’d started approaching certain people right after my accident. That wasn’t just opportunistic. It was calculated. She’d assumed I’d be too injured or distracted to respond.
Boyd leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “You think she had something to do with the crash?”
I didn’t answer right away. My gut said no—Natalie’s a schemer, not a saboteur—but the overlap in timing was hard to ignore.
“Let’s just say I’m not ruling anything out.”
In the afternoon, I called Madison. She picked up on the second ring.
“Clark.”
“Question,” I began. “The night before my accident, do you remember where Natalie was?”
There was a pause. “I wasn’t with her, but I know she had dinner with someone from Clear Harbor’s investor list. Why?”
“Just checking a timeline,” I said, keeping my voice even.
We wrapped the call quickly, but my mind kept circling the possibility that the crash had been more than bad luck. I didn’t have proof, and I wasn’t about to start tossing accusations without it.
Still, it went up on the board.
Accident timing — coincidence?
