Chapter 12 - The Price of a Name
By sunrise, I had become the center of three investigations.
My daughter's kidnapping.
My father's death.
And a corporate conspiracy involving one of the wealthiest families in Arizona.
I hadn't slept.
I hadn't eaten.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Ava crying for me.
Agent Torres arrived shortly after six.
She carried a thin folder.
"We located Caleb's phone."
My heart jumped.
"Where?"
"In an abandoned parking lot."
"Was he there?"
"No."
I tried to read her face.
"Is he dead?"
"We don't know."
I closed my eyes.
I didn't love Caleb anymore.
I hadn't loved him for a long time.
But I didn't want my children to learn their father had been murdered.
I didn't want Ethan carrying another wound.
Another empty chair.
Another question nobody could answer.
Agent Torres sat across from me.
"Sarah, we also have information about your father's estate."
I looked up.
"What information?"
"Your father created a trust for his descendants."
"Daniel told me."
"There's more."
She opened the folder.
"Patrick Reed's original agreement wasn't limited to the twelve percent interest."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"He retained certain intellectual-property rights."
I frowned.
"Meaning?"
"Patents connected to the energy-storage system."
Olivia joined us.
She looked as surprised as I felt.
Agent Torres continued.
"Under the original contracts, licensing revenue should have been paid to Patrick or his heirs."
My head began to spin.
"How much money?"
Olivia examined the records.
"That will require a full accounting."
Agent Torres looked at me.
"But it's potentially substantial."
I stared down at my hands.
The same hands that had scrubbed floors.
Washed dishes in restaurant kitchens.
Counted pennies.
Filled out food assistance forms while trying not to cry.
Now strangers were discussing millions.
Maybe hundreds of millions.
And all I wanted was my little girl.
"I don't care about the money."
Agent Torres nodded.
"I understand."
"No."
I looked at her.
"You don't."
My voice rose.
"I had forty-seven cents when Daniel found us."
Tears streamed down my face.
"If someone had offered me fifty dollars and a safe place for my children, I would have been grateful."
I slammed my hand against the table.
"I don't want a company."
"I don't want a trust."
"I don't want anyone's last name."
I broke down.
"I want my daughter."
Olivia reached across the table.
I pulled away.
Not because I was angry with her.
Because if someone touched me kindly, I knew I would fall apart.
A knock interrupted us.
Mrs. Alvarez entered.
"Sarah, there's someone here."
"Who?"
"A man named Thomas Greene."
Agent Torres immediately stood.
"Don't let him leave."
The man waiting in the foyer was elderly, perhaps seventy, with white hair and a slight limp.
He wore a plain brown jacket.
When he saw me, his eyes filled.
"Sarah Reed."
I stopped.
"Do I know you?"
He nodded.
"I worked with your father."
My chest tightened.
"At Hayes Meridian?"
"Before it was called Hayes Meridian."
He reached into his coat and removed a small black notebook.
"This belonged to Patrick."
I stared at it.
The cover was worn.
The corners were bent.
And on the first page, in my father's handwriting, were the words:
If anything happens to me, tell Sarah the truth.
My knees almost gave way.
Thomas caught the back of a chair.
"I'm sorry it took so long."
I opened the notebook.
Pages of calculations.
Dates.
Names.
Payments.
Warnings.
My father's familiar handwriting filled every inch.
"Why didn't you give this to me fourteen years ago?"
Thomas looked ashamed.
"Because I was afraid."
"Of Richard?"
"Of what he'd do to my family."
I stared at him.
"And now?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"My wife died last winter."
He swallowed.
"My children are grown."
He looked down.
"I don't have an excuse anymore."
Agent Torres approached.
"Mr. Greene, we'd like to take a formal statement."
He nodded.
"That's why I'm here."
Then he turned to me.
"Sarah, there is something you need to understand."
"What?"
"Your father was not alone when he discovered the altered test results."
I stopped breathing.
"Who helped him?"
Thomas looked toward the photograph of Edward Hayes hanging above the foyer fireplace.
"Daniel's mother."
"Claire?"
He nodded.
"She copied every record Patrick gave her."
"Then Richard knew?"
"Oh, yes."
Thomas's face darkened.
"And when he couldn't silence Claire, he found another way."
I stared at him.
"What way?"
Thomas hesitated.
Then he said, "Claire Hayes didn't die from an ordinary medical emergency."
A cold wave passed through me.
"What are you saying?"
May you like
He looked directly at Agent Torres.
"I'm saying someone deliberately tampered with the medication she was taking."
