Chapter 8 - The Father in the Shadows
I wanted to call Victor a liar.
I wanted to hit him.
I wanted to believe that every piece of evidence pointing toward my father was part of some elaborate manipulation.
But denial was a luxury I had already wasted once with Evelyn.
“Where is he?”
Victor sat slowly.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Martin said, “Don’t listen to him.”
Victor laughed.
“Now you want honesty?”
“Thomas is dead.”
“No.”
Victor looked at me.
“The man in that coffin was Raymond Cole.”
The name meant nothing.
“Who?”
“One of your father’s drivers.”
I stepped closer.
“I saw my father before the funeral.”
“You saw a body after a closed-casket preparation ordered by Martin.”
I looked at Martin.
He went pale.
“Explain.”
Martin swallowed.
“Your father was dying.”
“That isn’t an explanation.”
“He had pancreatic cancer.”
“I know.”
“He was given months.”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t want to die helpless.”
Victor interrupted.
“So he arranged not to.”
Martin snapped, “You arranged it.”
“Under his orders.”
I pointed toward Martin.
“Talk.”
He closed his eyes.
“Thomas created a disappearance plan.”
“Why?”
“To preserve Account Seventeen.”
My stomach turned.
“Preserve what exactly?”
Martin looked toward Elaine.
Then Victor.
“Tell him.”
Victor said nothing.
Elaine struggled against the restraints.
“Account Seventeen wasn’t just money.”
I cut her free.
“What was it?”
“A network.”
“For bribery?”
“Sometimes.”
“Blackmail?”
“Yes.”
“Violence?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
I looked at Victor.
He didn’t deny it.
Elaine continued.
“Your father collected leverage on everyone.”
“Politicians?”
“Businessmen.”
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“Judges?”
“Yes.”
“Employees?”
“Yes.”
“Me?”
Elaine looked away.
That was answer enough.
“What leverage?”
Victor spoke.
“Whatever existed.”
I wanted to throw him through the wall.
“Where is my father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who took June?”
Victor’s expression sharpened.
“I don’t know.”
“Rosa is involved.”
That surprised all three.
Martin whispered, “Rosa?”
“Yes.”
Victor stood.
“You need to get back to Lake Forest.”
“No kidding.”
He stepped toward me.
Marcus blocked him.
Victor raised his hands.
“If Thomas is moving openly, something changed.”
“What?”
“He’s scared.”
I laughed.
“My father was never scared.”
Victor looked at me.
“That’s because you were a child when you knew him.”
The insult almost worked.
Almost.
I controlled myself.
“What would scare him?”
Victor looked toward the servers.
“The ledger becoming public.”
“Evelyn found it?”
“Partly.”
“You killed her.”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Victor’s expression changed.
“No.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t kill Evelyn.”
“You followed her.”
“Yes.”
“You threatened Elaine.”
“Yes.”
“You stole wages.”
“Yes.”
The admissions came without hesitation.
“But I did not kill your wife.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“You shouldn’t.”
For once, he sounded honest.
“Then give me something verifiable.”
Victor thought.
“The night Evelyn died, she wasn’t alone in the car.”
My heartbeat stopped.
“What?”
“The police report says she was.”
“I know.”
“It was altered.”
“By whom?”
“Thomas.”
“Who was with her?”
Victor looked at Martin.
Martin’s face collapsed.
I knew before he spoke.
Martin whispered, “Me.”
I almost shot him.
Marcus stepped between us.
“What happened?”
Martin’s hands shook.
“Evelyn called me.”
“Why?”
“She said she had evidence.”
“Against Victor?”
“Against all of us.”
“Meaning?”
“Account Seventeen.”
I pushed past Marcus.
“You were in my wife’s car.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me bury her believing she died alone.”
“I was injured.”
“You lied for two years.”
“I was told if I spoke, my daughter would die.”
I stopped.
Martin had one daughter.
Sophie.
A pediatric surgeon in Boston.
I had attended her wedding.
“Who threatened her?”
“Thomas.”
My father.
Always my father.
“What happened that night?”
Martin closed his eyes.
“Evelyn wanted to meet federal investigators.”
“Which agency?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Why were you with her?”
“She needed someone who understood the documents.”
“Then?”
“A vehicle followed us.”
“What vehicle?”
“Black SUV.”
“Who?”
“I never saw.”
“The crash?”
“Wasn’t an accident.”
My vision darkened.
“They hit us twice.”
Martin’s voice cracked.
“Evelyn lost control.”
“You survived.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I woke outside the car.”
“Who pulled you out?”
“Thomas.”
The room became silent.
“My dead father was standing beside my wife’s wreck?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
Martin began crying.
“He asked me where the drive was.”
I could barely speak.
“What about Evelyn?”
“She was alive.”
That sentence destroyed something inside me.
I grabbed him.
“She was alive?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“I don’t know.”
“WHAT DID HE DO?”
Marcus pulled me back.
Martin collapsed against the wall.
“I passed out.”
“Did he help her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was she alive when you lost consciousness?”
“Yes.”
Every version of my wife’s death shifted.
Maybe she hadn’t died from the crash.
Maybe someone had decided she needed to.
I wanted blood.
Then Evelyn’s letter echoed in my mind.
Do not become your father while trying to avenge me.
I turned away.
My phone rang.
June.
I answered instantly.
“June?”
A man spoke.
Old.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Hello, son.”
I forgot how to breathe.
Twelve years disappeared.
Childhood.
Boardrooms.
My father’s hand on my shoulder.
His voice telling me never to apologize in front of men who wanted weakness.
“Dad?”
Victor closed his eyes.
Martin looked sick.
The man on the phone chuckled.
“You sound surprised.”
“Where is June?”
“Safe.”
“Her children?”
“Safe.”
“If you touch them—”
“You always did inherit your mother’s temper.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“You’re dead.”
“Officially.”
“Where are they?”
“I want the drive Evelyn left you.”
He knew.
“How?”
“You were always terrible at hiding pain, Adrian.”
“I asked where June is.”
“And I told you she’s safe.”
“Let me hear her.”
A pause.
Then June’s voice.
“Adrian.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Kids?”
“With me.”
“Lila?”
“I’m here.”
“Micah?”
A small frightened voice.
“Hi.”
Relief nearly dropped me.
Then my father returned.
“Now.”
“What?”
“You bring me Evelyn’s drive.”
“Where?”
“I’ll send instructions.”
“And you give me June and the kids.”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
At least the old man understood irony.
“Why do you want the drive?”
“Because Evelyn stole something that never belonged to her.”
“She was my wife.”
“She was dangerous.”
My vision narrowed.
“Did you kill her?”
Silence.
For the first time, my father did not sound amused.
“You really want that answer?”
“Yes.”
“No, son.”
His voice softened.
“You want someone you can hate.”
“I already have someone.”
He laughed.
“Bring the drive.”
Then the line disconnected.
Thirty seconds later, coordinates arrived.
An industrial property near the Wisconsin border.
Marcus looked at me.
“We’re not giving him the real drive.”
“No.”
Victor stepped closer.
“He’ll know.”
“How?”
“He trained you.”
I turned.
“And apparently you.”
Victor’s expression darkened.
“You think I enjoyed serving him?”
“You stole from people who trusted my name.”
“I did what kept the network stable.”
“June starved.”
“I didn’t know individual employees.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
He looked away.
For the first time, guilt seemed real.
I did not care.
Not yet.
I looked at Elaine.
“Can you decrypt the ledger?”
“With time.”
“You have an hour.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“Make it enough.”
I gave Marcus the drive.
“Copy everything.”
He nodded.
“And Adrian?”
“What?”
“If your father has June, he’ll expect you emotional.”
“He’ll get emotional.”
Marcus stared at me.
I finished.
“He just won’t get stupid.”
Forty minutes later, Elaine found a file Evelyn had hidden beneath three encryption layers.
A list of active Account Seventeen operators.
Victor Hale.
Martin Voss.
Rosa Alvarez.
Twenty-one others.
And one name at the top.
THOMAS BLACKWELL.
Status:
ACTIVE.
Last authorization:
Yesterday.
Then Elaine opened a linked note.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“This isn’t a payment.”
“What is it?”
“A termination authorization.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Elaine turned the screen.
TARGET: JUNE CARTER.
AUTHORIZATION DATE: SIX MONTHS AGO.
June had been marked for death half a year before she ever spoke to me about her salary.
Which meant the payroll discrepancy had not put her in danger.
She had already been in danger.
May you like
And suddenly the question was no longer why someone had stolen June Carter’s money.
It was why they had allowed her to live.
