Page 314 of Hidden Depths
Lieutenant Akana turned the tablet around.
Two digital signatures appeared at the bottom of the document.
Storm Sinclair.
Calle Sinclair.
Calle stared at the screen.
“I didn’t sign that.”
“Neither did I.”
Ben moved closer.
“Can signatures like these be copied?”
Akana nodded.
“Easily, if someone has access to the company’s electronic records.”
“Then someone inside Sinclair Yachts helped them,” Ward said.
The possibility landed like another bullet.
Sinclair Yachts wasn’t simply a company.
It was Grandpa’s life.
Our father’s legacy.
Our family.
We employed people we trusted.
People we had known for years.
Ward looked at me.
“How many employees have access to vessel records?”
“Maybe twelve.”
“That’s twelve too many.”
“They aren’t strangers, Ward.”
His expression didn’t soften.
“That doesn’t make them innocent.”
I wanted to argue.
But someone had used my name.
Someone had used Calle’s.
Someone had renewed a dead man’s boat through our company. Did that person tell someone when we left our dock?
