Chapter 12 - The Night of October Seventeenth
The video arrived the next morning.
No return address.
No explanation.
Just a small encrypted drive delivered to Sloan's office by courier.
Investigators examined the package before anyone opened it.
Noah wanted the files isolated.
Claire wanted the sender traced.
Sloan wanted proper documentation before anyone touched the evidence.
I wanted to see my father.
I was learning that grief could make a person selfish.
Not cruel.
Not unreasonable.
Just desperately hungry for one more moment with someone who was gone.
After the technical team cleared the drive for examination, Sloan asked if I was ready.
I nodded.
I wasn't.
But I nodded anyway.
The video opened with a security-camera view of a warehouse office.
The timestamp read October 17.
10:06 p.m.
My father entered the frame.
He wore a dark blue jacket and carried a leather folder.
I covered my mouth.
He looked so alive.
He pushed his glasses up his nose.
Checked his watch.
Then turned when someone opened the door.
Richard Whitmore entered.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Behind him came Daniel.
My husband.
Three years younger.
Wearing the jacket I'd bought him for his birthday.
I leaned forward.
The audio was faint.
Noah adjusted the volume.
My father spoke first.
"I told you not to bring Daniel."
Richard smiled.
"He's part of the family."
My father looked at Daniel.
"Does Emily know you're here?"
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
Dad's expression darkened.
"Then this meeting is already over."
He turned toward the door.
Richard stepped into his path.
"James, don't make this difficult."
Dad stopped.
"You stole from my company."
Richard laughed.
"That's a dramatic way of describing a business disagreement."
"You forged contracts."
"We expanded the business."
"You moved public infrastructure data through private companies that had no right to access it."
Richard's smile disappeared.
Dad continued.
"And you paid people to hide it."
Daniel shifted uncomfortably.
"Mr. Bennett—"
Dad turned on him.
"You knew?"
Daniel swallowed.
"I didn't understand everything."
"Did you know your father was stealing?"
Daniel looked away.
My father stepped closer.
"I trusted you with my daughter."
Daniel said nothing.
Dad's voice broke.
"Emily loves you."
I started crying.
On the screen, Richard moved toward the desk.
"Enough."
Dad turned.
"You're going to prison."
Richard's expression changed.
For one terrible moment, I saw the same coldness I'd seen at dinner.
Then he struck my father.
The image blurred as Dad fell against the desk.
I screamed.
Noah immediately reached for the pause button.
"Emily."
"Don't."
My voice shook.
"Don't stop it."
Claire looked at me carefully.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"I need to know."
The video continued.
Dad lay on the floor.
Daniel rushed forward.
"Jesus Christ, Dad!"
Richard stood above him.
"He threatened us."
"You hit him!"
"Check if he's breathing."
Daniel knelt.
His face changed.
"He is."
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
Dad was alive.
Still alive.
Daniel looked toward the door.
"We need an ambulance."
Richard grabbed his shoulder.
"No police."
"He's hurt!"
"Do you want Emily to know what you've been doing?"
Daniel froze.
Richard leaned closer.
"You signed the contracts, Daniel."
Daniel stared.
"You authorized transfers."
"Because you told me to!"
Richard's voice dropped.
"And who do you think she'll believe?"
I felt my heart breaking all over again.
Dad moved.
His fingers pressed against the floor.
He tried to push himself up.
Daniel saw.
"Mr. Bennett?"
Richard stepped toward him.
But before he reached Dad, another man entered.
Arthur Wallace.
Even through the grainy image, I recognized him from the photograph.
He looked at my father.
Then at Richard.
"What happened?"
Richard pointed toward the floor.
"He found the accounts."
Wallace's expression didn't change.
"Did you retrieve the archive?"
"No."
Wallace looked toward Daniel.
"Leave."
Daniel hesitated.
"My father-in-law needs a doctor."
Wallace stepped closer.
"You're going home."
Daniel looked at Dad.
Then at Richard.
And walked out.
I sat frozen.
He had left my father lying there.
No ambulance.
No call to the police.
No attempt to get help.
He'd gone home to the apartment we shared.
And held me in his arms.
The video continued.
Wallace crouched beside Dad.
"James."
My father slowly opened his eyes.
"You," he whispered.
Wallace leaned closer.
"You should've taken the settlement."
Dad coughed.
"People will die."
Wallace's expression hardened.
"People die every day."
My hand went cold.
He wasn't talking about money anymore.
He was talking about what the stolen technology could be used for.
Dad whispered something.
Noah increased the volume.
"Emily knows nothing."
Wallace smiled.
"Good."
I felt sick.
Then another figure stepped into the room.
A man wearing a dark coat.
His face was partly hidden.
Wallace looked toward him.
"You're late."
The stranger answered.
"Traffic."
His voice was familiar.
I couldn't place it.
He crouched beside my father.
"James."
Dad looked up.
His expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"You."
The stranger leaned close.
"I'm sorry it came to this."
My father grabbed his coat.
"Don't let them hurt Emily."
The man's jaw tightened.
"I won't."
I stared at the screen.
Who was he?
The stranger lifted my father carefully beneath the arms.
Wallace opened the door.
Together, they carried him out.
The camera continued recording the empty room.
Then the file ended.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I felt hollow.
"That's it?"
Sloan nodded slowly.
"The video ends there."
I stared at the screen.
"Where did they take him?"
Claire looked at Noah.
He shook his head.
"Still unknown."
I turned toward Sloan.
"Can this prove Richard attacked him?"
"Yes. Assuming the recording is authenticated, it's significant evidence."
"And Wallace?"
"It places him at the scene and records incriminating statements. We'll need to establish the full context and what happened afterward."
I nodded.
My chest hurt.
But I didn't cry anymore.
I looked at Noah.
"Who was the last man?"
He frowned.
"I don't know."
"Listen to his voice."
Noah replayed the final moments.
The stranger spoke again.
I'm sorry it came to this.
Catherine, who had been sitting silently beside the door, suddenly stood.
"Stop."
Noah paused the video.
She stared at the screen.
Her face had gone white.
"What?" I asked.
Catherine shook her head.
"No."
"Catherine."
She covered her mouth.
"I know that voice."
My pulse quickened.
"Who?"
She looked at me.
"Samuel Pierce."
I stared.
"The lawyer?"
She nodded slowly.
"But Samuel was in prison."
Noah turned toward her.
"Are you certain?"
Catherine didn't answer.
She crossed the room and replayed the audio.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then she looked at Sloan.
"Where was Samuel Pierce on October seventeenth?"
Sloan began typing.
A moment later, her expression changed.
"According to the prison records, he was transferred to a federal medical facility that afternoon."
Noah stepped closer.
"Where?"
"Chicago."
I stared at her.
"The same city?"
Sloan nodded.
"And he was returned to custody the following morning."
The room went silent.
I looked back at the stranger on the screen.
Samuel Pierce.
The man my father trusted.
The man everyone said had been imprisoned for refusing to lie.
Had he actually been there?
Had he helped carry my wounded father away?
I gripped the edge of the table.
"We need to talk to him again."
Sloan nodded.
"I agree."
Then her phone rang.
She checked the screen.
Her expression darkened.
"Excuse me."
She stepped outside.
Through the glass wall, I watched her listen.
Then she closed her eyes.
When she returned, she looked devastated.
"What happened?" Claire asked.
Sloan took a breath.
"Samuel Pierce was found unresponsive in his cell this morning."
My heart dropped.
"Is he dead?"
She shook her head.
"He's in critical condition."
Noah swore.
Sloan continued.
"His attorney says he was fine last night."
I stared at the frozen image of the man carrying my father.
Another witness.
Another sudden medical emergency.
Another person who knew too much.
I looked at Sloan.
"Get somebody to protect him."
"I already have."
Then I turned toward Noah.
"What if we're asking the wrong question?"
He frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"We keep asking who killed my father."
I pointed at the screen.
"But the video shows him leaving the warehouse alive."
Noah nodded slowly.
"And?"
I swallowed.
"What if the people who took him away didn't kill him that night?"
The room went silent.
I looked at the footage again.
The stranger had handled Dad carefully.
He'd promised to protect me.
And if Samuel Pierce had been involved, maybe there was another explanation.
A terrible possibility.
One nobody had considered.
I whispered:
"What if my father survived longer than they told us?"
Noah stared at the screen.
Then his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face changed.
"What?"
He turned the display toward me.
A scanned hospital record.
Dated October 18.
The day after my father's supposed death.
The patient's name had been blacked out.
But the blood type, approximate age, and injuries matched my father.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
Patient regained consciousness.
Requested daughter Emily.
I stopped breathing.
Noah looked at me.
May you like
And for the first time, he said the words I'd been afraid to hope for.
"Emily, we need to find out when your father actually died."
