Chapter 3 - The Dead Brother
Vincent froze.
Marcus drew his weapon.
Evelyn grabbed the edge of a cabinet.
The emergency lights flashed red once.
Then died.
Darkness swallowed the archive.
“Stay behind me,” Marcus said.
Vincent did not move.
The voice had come from the far end of the room.
Low.
Male.
Familiar enough to drag memories out of graves.
“Elias?”
Nothing.
Marcus activated a small tactical light.
The beam swept across shelves.
Empty aisle.
Cabinets.
Dust.
Then a shadow moved.
Marcus swung toward it.
“Hands!”
A figure disappeared behind the final row.
Marcus rushed forward.
Vincent caught his arm.
“Wait.”
Marcus stared at him.
“Boss.”
“Wait.”
A click sounded.
The archive lights returned.
No one stood at the far end.
Marcus moved quickly through the room.
One door.
Still locked from inside.
One ventilation panel.
Too small for a man.
One service hatch.
Open.
Marcus crouched beside it.
“Maintenance shaft.”
Vincent stared.
“Where does it go?”
“Three floors down.”
Marcus radioed his team.
Evelyn watched Vincent.
“You recognized the voice.”
Vincent did not answer.
She stepped toward him.
“Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“Was it him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your brother?”
Vincent looked at the lighter in his hand.
Elias Hale.
Two years younger.
Smarter than Vincent in some ways.
More reckless in others.
Where Vincent had learned discipline from their father, Elias had learned resentment.
They had fought constantly as boys.
Protected each other constantly as young men.
And eventually become enemies as adults.
Six years earlier, Dominic and Elias had been killed in an explosion at a warehouse near the harbor.
Vincent had identified what remained.
Or thought he had.
There had been almost nothing to identify.
Dental records.
A watch.
Elias’s ring.
Dominic’s lighter.
The lighter Vincent now held.
Evelyn spoke softly.
“You told me Elias died with your father.”
“He did.”
“You’re holding something buried with them.”
“I’m aware.”
Marcus returned.
“Maintenance team’s searching the shafts.”
“Alive?”
“No contact yet.”
Vincent opened drawer 417 again.
Empty.
“What was here?” Evelyn asked.
“I don’t know.”
“It had to matter.”
Vincent ran his fingers along the inside.
A faint rectangular outline marked the dust.
Something had sat there for years.
A folder.
Maybe a ledger.
Marcus’s radio crackled.
“Sir. We found the missing guard.”
“Condition?”
“Alive. Level thirty-five.”
“Can he talk?”
“Barely.”
Vincent turned.
They took the stairs.
The guard, Adrian Cole, lay against the wall near a service door.
Blood streaked one side of his face.
Paramedics worked around him.
Cole had served Vincent for eight years.
Reliable.
Quiet.
A father of two.
Vincent crouched.
“Adrian.”
Cole’s eyelids moved.
“Mr. Hale.”
“Who did this?”
Cole struggled to focus.
“Man.”
“Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Face?”
“Covered.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“What did he take?”
Cole swallowed.
“File.”
“From 417?”
Cole’s eyes widened.
“You know?”
“What file?”
Cole tried to answer.
A paramedic interrupted.
“Sir, he needs transport.”
Vincent ignored him.
“Adrian. What file?”
Cole’s hand moved weakly.
He grabbed Vincent’s sleeve.
“Your father’s.”
Vincent went still.
“What about him?”
Cole’s breath rattled.
“Not… dead.”
The paramedic pushed Vincent back.
“That’s enough.”
Vincent stood.
Evelyn stared at him.
Marcus said nothing.
The statement could mean anything.
Your father’s file.
Your father’s not dead.
Or your father wrote that someone was not dead.
But Vincent felt a cold pressure forming at the base of his skull.
“What exactly was in 417?” Evelyn asked.
Vincent looked at her.
“I’m going to find out.”
They returned to his private office.
At 3:22 A.M., the building was sealed.
No employees allowed in or out.
Vincent sat behind his desk.
Evelyn occupied the sofa with an ice pack against her temple.
Marcus stood near the door.
Kerr had somehow gotten upstairs despite being told not to.
Vincent looked at him.
“How?”
Kerr shrugged.
“Elevator.”
“You were not invited.”
“Arrest me.”
Vincent considered the possibility.
Evelyn said, “Not tonight.”
Both men looked at her.
She sighed.
“I am concussed. I don’t have the energy for whatever masculine ritual this is.”
Kerr sat.
Marcus almost smiled again.
Vincent placed the lighter on the desk.
Kerr’s humor vanished.
“Where did you get that?”
Vincent leaned back.
“You know it?”
“No.”
“Bad lie number two.”
Kerr looked at Evelyn.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t look at me. I’m keeping score.”
Kerr exhaled.
“That lighter appeared in evidence photos from the harbor explosion.”
“Because my father was carrying it.”
“Correct.”
“And?”
“It disappeared from police storage four months after the case closed.”
Vincent slowly leaned forward.
“Who had access?”
“Dozens of people.”
“Names.”
“I don’t remember all of them.”
“You remember the ones who mattered.”
Kerr’s eyes hardened.
“One detective resigned six weeks later.”
“Name.”
“Arthur Bell.”
Marcus’s head turned.
Vincent noticed.
“You know him.”
Marcus hesitated.
“I knew of him.”
Vincent’s voice cooled.
“Explain.”
“Bell worked organized crime before Kerr.”
“I know that.”
“He also worked private security after leaving the department.”
“For whom?”
Marcus did not answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Vincent stood.
“For whom?”
Marcus met his gaze.
“Your father.”
Evelyn lowered the ice pack.
Kerr swore quietly.
Vincent walked around the desk.
“You knew Dominic hired a former detective and never mentioned it?”
“I learned three years ago.”
“And?”
“He was gone by then.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“I had no reason to think it mattered.”
Vincent stared at him.
Marcus had been beside him for nine years.
Taken a bullet in an alley.
Pulled Vincent from a burning car.
Trusted with his life.
And now there was a secret.
Small.
Maybe meaningless.
But tonight small secrets were becoming knives.
Evelyn saw it happening.
“Vincent.”
He looked at her.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Start seeing traitors in every chair.”
Kerr nodded.
“She’s right.”
Vincent glanced at him.
“That makes two opinions I didn’t request.”
Evelyn stood slowly.
The room tilted.
She caught the sofa.
Vincent was beside her immediately.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re swaying.”
“I’m angry.”
“That doesn’t improve balance.”
She sat.
Then pointed at the lighter.
“Someone attacked me to get you here.”
“Yes.”
“Someone broke into this building to steal a file.”
“Yes.”
“Someone used your dead brother’s name.”
“Yes.”
“And someone wants you to distrust the people around you.”
Vincent looked at Marcus.
Then Kerr.
Then her.
Evelyn continued.
“So maybe stop giving them exactly what they want.”
Silence.
Vincent returned to his chair.
“Fine.”
Kerr looked surprised.
Evelyn said, “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I’ve never seen anyone tell him no three times in ten minutes and survive.”
Vincent ignored that.
“Find Bell.”
Kerr frowned.
“I don’t work for you.”
“Tonight you do.”
“No.”
Vincent slid the photograph toward him.
“You have a falsified federal case tied to 417. I have a stolen file tied to 417. Either we cooperate or we spend six hours measuring territory while whoever did this disappears.”
Kerr stared at the photo.
Evelyn watched him.
Finally, Kerr took out his phone.
“I’ll make one call.”
Vincent turned to Marcus.
“Find every employee with access to the archive floor in the last twelve months.”
“Already running.”
“Pull old records on Bell.”
“Done.”
“Find the company that installed the service hatch.”
Marcus nodded.
Evelyn raised a hand.
Vincent looked at her.
“What?”
“My apartment.”
“What about it?”
“They followed me from work.”
“We’ll send someone.”
“No. They knew my routine. If they’ve been watching me, they may have been inside.”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
“You’re not going there.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“Good.”
“I said we should check it.”
Marcus already had his phone out.
Evelyn looked at Vincent.
“I also want my laptop.”
“No.”
“Vincent.”
“You’re resting.”
“You are trying to solve a conspiracy involving your father, your dead brother, a federal frame, and an attack on your own tower.”
“Yes.”
“And you think I’m going to sleep?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
Kerr muttered, “Ambitious.”
Twenty minutes later, Marcus’s team reached Evelyn’s apartment.
The first photographs arrived quickly.
Door intact.
No forced entry.
Nothing visibly disturbed.
Then one of the guards called.
Marcus listened.
“Say that again.”
Vincent looked up.
Marcus walked toward the desk.
“They found a hidden camera.”
Evelyn’s face went white.
“Where?”
Marcus hesitated.
Vincent’s voice sharpened.
“Where?”
“Bedroom.”
Evelyn stopped breathing.
Vincent stood so fast his chair struck the wall.
Marcus kept listening.
“Any prints?”
“No.”
“Other devices?”
“They’re sweeping.”
Vincent’s hands flattened against the desk.
Whoever had attacked Evelyn had entered her private life long before tonight.
Weeks.
Maybe months.
Evelyn looked sick.
“I never saw anyone.”
Vincent walked toward her.
“You couldn’t have.”
“I should have.”
“No.”
“I handle security schedules.”
“No.”
“I should have noticed.”
Vincent crouched in front of her.
“This is not your failure.”
She looked at him.
His voice softened.
“It’s mine.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Don’t turn this into guilt.”
“It isn’t guilt.”
“What is it?”
Vincent looked toward the photograph with the X.
“A promise.”
Evelyn knew better than to ask.
Marcus’s computer chimed.
Search results.
He opened them.
Arthur Bell.
Former detective.
No known address.
No active bank accounts.
No passport use in five years.
Then one record appeared.
A property deed.
Cabin outside the city.
Purchased under a holding company.
Marcus enlarged the image.
Vincent frowned.
“What?”
Marcus pointed at the filing date.
April 17.
4/17.
Evelyn whispered, “417.”
Kerr’s phone rang at the same moment.
He answered.
His expression tightened.
“What?”
Everyone waited.
Kerr lowered the phone.
“Bell is dead.”
Vincent stared at him.
“When?”
“Forty-eight minutes ago.”
“How?”
“Single gunshot. His body was found in a car two blocks from Evelyn’s apartment.”
No one spoke.
Then Evelyn’s laptop, sitting unopened on Vincent’s desk, powered on by itself.
The screen turned black.
White letters appeared.
HELLO, VINCENT.
A second line typed itself beneath the first.
YOU HAVE UNTIL SUNRISE.
Then a live video feed appeared.
A man sat tied to a chair.
Vincent recognized him instantly.
His attorney.
May you like
The third person who had possessed Vincent’s private number.
And behind him, someone slowly lifted a knife.
