Chapter 9 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Corporate security locked down the executive floor.
Chicago police took the threat seriously.
Ben took it more seriously.
“The caller knew exactly when Richard entered the building.”
He looked toward the windows.
“And probably knew what happened in this room.”
Dad frowned.
“A bug?”
“Possibly.”
Leonard Pike’s security team swept the conference room.
They found nothing.
Then Ben asked for Dad’s cane.
Dad handed it to him.
Ben examined the handle.
Nothing.
His watch had already been removed as evidence.
Phone clean.
Laptop clean.
Then Ben looked toward Thomas.
“Who arranged the boardroom system upgrade?”
Thomas thought.
“Mercer’s office recommended the vendor.”
Of course.
Ben disconnected the conferencing unit.
Inside was a secondary wireless module that did not belong there.
Leonard stared.
“Audio transmitter?”
Ben nodded.
“Remote access.”
Dad looked toward the ceiling.
“They were listening.”
I felt sick.
Not because of the technology.
Because of how long it might have been happening.
Leonard began checking other executive rooms.
We moved Dad into a secure conference room on another floor.
Two police detectives arrived.
Dad gave a statement.
So did I.
So did Thomas.
When they asked about Vivian and Marcus, I gave them the facts.
Nothing more.
At eleven thirty, Ben received a message.
He read it twice.
Then looked at me.
“Remember Nathan Cole?”
The forensic accountant from Dad’s twelve-year-old letter.
The man Vivian had claimed was dead.
“Yes.”
“He’s alive.”
Dad stared.
“Where?”
“Wisconsin.”
My heart beat faster.
“Can we contact him?”
Ben turned his laptop.
An email sat on screen.
Sender:
Nathan Cole.
Subject:
Richard Hale.
One sentence.
I HAVE BEEN WAITING TWELVE YEARS FOR HIM TO ASK THE RIGHT QUESTION.
Dad lowered himself into a chair.
“What right question?”
Another email arrived.
This one contained an address.
No message.
Lake Geneva.
Ninety minutes away.
Dad wanted to go immediately.
I said no.
He argued.
I won.
Barely.
Ben and I left with Leonard and one security officer.
The drive felt longer than ninety minutes.
Nathan’s address led to a modest house overlooking a narrow stretch of water.
Nothing about it suggested a man who once investigated companies worth billions.
We knocked.
An elderly man opened the door.
White hair.
Thin frame.
Sharp eyes.
He looked at me.
“You have Evelyn’s face.”
My mother.
I had not heard a stranger say her name in years.
“You’re Nathan?”
He nodded.
“Is Richard alive?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders dropped.
“Then come inside.”
Nathan’s study was filled with banker boxes.
Decades of records.
He poured coffee.
His hands trembled slightly from age.
Not fear.
“I told Richard not to marry her.”
“Vivian?”
“Yes.”
“He knew about the old invoice investigation.”
“He knew part of it.”
I leaned forward.
“What part didn’t he know?”
Nathan opened a drawer.
He removed a folder.
“Vivian wasn’t working alone.”
My stomach tightened.
“David?”
Nathan shook his head.
“Not at first.”
He slid a photograph across the table.
A younger Vivian stood outside the old Hale Construction office.
Beside her was another man.
I recognized him.
Thomas Reed.
I stared.
“No.”
Nathan nodded.
“Thomas was a junior accountant.”
I looked toward Ben.
He said nothing.
Nathan continued.
“Twenty-four years ago, we found vendor invoices inflated by about eight hundred thousand dollars.”
“Vivian and Thomas?”
“We suspected Vivian.”
“But?”
“The money went into an account controlled by Thomas.”
My pulse changed.
“Why wasn’t he fired?”
“Because the day before I planned to confront him, the account vanished.”
“Vanished?”
“Closed.”
“The money?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
Nathan looked at me.
“That is what I spent twelve years trying to discover.”
He opened another box.
Bank records.
Transfers.
Shell companies.
Dates.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Mercer.
David Mercer had entered the picture later.
Nathan explained.
Thomas stole first.
Vivian discovered it.
Instead of reporting him, she blackmailed him.
David eventually learned what his sister was doing and transformed a small internal theft into something much larger.
Vendor kickbacks.
Land deals.
Consulting companies.
Political donations.
Offshore accounts.
For years, they had taken small enough amounts to avoid detection.
Then Dad married Vivian.
“They got access to the center,” Nathan said.
I felt cold.
“Why didn’t you tell Dad?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“David ruined me.”
Nathan looked toward the window.
“He accused me of falsifying audit records.”
“My professional license was investigated.”
“Clients disappeared.”
“My wife got sick.”
“I spent three years fighting.”
“By the time I cleared my name, Richard wouldn’t take my calls.”
“Why?”
“Because David told him I was unstable.”
The pattern.
Always the same.
Discredit.
Isolate.
Control.
I thought about Dad.
Then me.
Then Emily.
Anyone who challenged them became unreliable.
Confused.
Unstable.
Disloyal.
Nathan stood and walked toward a safe.
He entered a code.
Inside were hard drives and folders.
He removed one blue envelope.
My chest stopped.
Dad had told me about it.
The second envelope.
Nathan handed it to me.
“Richard gave this to me fourteen years ago.”
I stared at him.
“He said it was at the bank.”
“It was.”
“Then how do you have it?”
“Because he moved it.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before he married Vivian.”
My hands went cold.
“Why?”
“He began to suspect somebody had accessed the deposit box.”
“Who?”
Nathan looked at me.
“David Mercer.”
I opened the blue envelope.
Inside was a handwritten memo.
Dad had documented suspicious transfers.
Names.
Dates.
Conversations.
And at the bottom:
If anything happens to me, investigate Thomas Reed first.
I stared at the sentence.
Thomas.
The man helping us.
The CFO who had brought us evidence.
Nathan touched another page.
“But Richard was wrong about one thing.”
I looked up.
Nathan’s expression was grim.
“Thomas wasn’t trying to kill him.”
“Then who was?”
Nathan slid a photograph across the desk.
A security image.
The fleet garage.
The night before Dad’s crash.
Marcus entered first.
David entered second.
Then, twelve minutes later, a third person appeared.
A woman.
Vivian.
But she was not alone.
May you like
Behind her walked Thomas Reed.
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