Her father’s Beechcraft.
Her knees nearly weakened.
She gripped the back of a chair.
“There was a problem with the official crash report,” Declan said.
Grace could barely hear him.
“What problem?”
“The fuel system.”
“The report said icing.”
“It did.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Declan changed the image.
A close-up of a damaged mechanical component appeared.
“There were signs of deliberate interference.”
Rebecca whispered, “Sabotage?”
Declan did not answer her.
Grace stared at the photograph.
The room felt suddenly too warm.
“My father’s death was investigated by the NTSB.”
“Yes.”
“They ruled it an accident.”
“Yes.”
“You think they were wrong?”
“I think someone wanted the case closed.”
Grace looked up.
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“We?”
Declan’s face tightened.
“My company wasn’t investigating your father personally. We were investigating Northstar.”
Grace’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Northstar existed before Calloway Maritime ever sent them money.”
