Redstone Construction CEO Learns About Blue Envelope in Hospital Recovery Room
The silence that followed was different from the quiet of a normal afternoon at the office. It was the silence of a foundation cracking under a house, the structural timber splitting so slowly that you only notice the tilt of the floor years after the damage is done.
“They were engaged before they moved to Denver,” Brandon said. “The corporate filings show they registered three separate holding companies in Wyoming under dummy names.”
“She used our operating reserve to fund them,” I said.
“Every dollar of it,” Brandon said, sliding a ledger of bank statements toward me. “She was feeding Mercer’s clinic while he was setting up his practice here.”
He reached into his drawer and pulled out a second stack of papers, these printed on standard white office stock. They were surveillance photographs, clear and sharp under the fluorescent lights.
“These were taken last Thursday at three in the afternoon,” Brandon said.
The first photo showed the glass entryway of the high-rise building on Fourteenth Street, the luxury penthouse tower where Dr. Mercer kept his private residence. My wife was standing near the call box, wearing her cream-colored trench coat and the dark sunglasses she usually kept in the glove box of her SUV.
