Chapter 4 - The Man Who Came to Every Christmas
Rebecca shoved open a maintenance door.
"This way."
We ran.
Grant followed.
The corridor led through the old loading area and into a construction zone.
Behind us, footsteps thundered.
My brain couldn't process Grant's words.
Raymond Cole.
My uncle.
The man who had taught me to fish.
The man who paid for my college textbooks one semester when my mother couldn't.
The man who stood beside me at both my parents' funerals.
"This makes no sense," I said.
Grant pushed a rolling tool cabinet against the door.
"It will."
"Start talking."
"Outside."
We escaped through a rear construction entrance and reached Rebecca's car.
Grant climbed into the backseat before either of us invited him.
Rebecca stared at him in the mirror.
"If you lie once, I leave you on the sidewalk."
"Fair."
I twisted around.
"My uncle?"
Grant looked exhausted.
"Raymond wasn't the architect. My father was. But Raymond was the broker."
"For what?"
"Property acquisitions. Public officials. Contractors. He connected everybody."
"You're lying."
"I wish I were."
"Why would my father investigate his own brother?"
"Because Raymond recruited him."
The answer hit me harder than I expected.
Grant continued.
"Daniel was supposed to clean transactions. Instead he copied them."
"Why?"
"Because he realized where the money came from."
Public housing funds.
Infrastructure grants.
Neighborhood redevelopment budgets.
Money meant for people who had the least power to fight when it vanished.
My father had turned against his own brother.
"Did Raymond kill him?"
Grant looked at me.
"I don't know."
"Don't."
"I mean it."
"You impersonated my dead father this morning."
"Because Raymond contacted me last night."
Rebecca slammed the brakes at a red light.
"What?"
"He knew Ethan had received the key."
"How?"
Grant gave me a grim look.
"Someone inside Mercer's foundation told him."
My stomach tightened.
"Evelyn?"
"No."
"Rebecca?"
Rebecca looked insulted.
Grant shook his head.
"I don't know who."
We drove directly to Evelyn's foundation.
Security surrounded the building.
Evelyn sat in her office with two federal investigators.
Rebecca had called them during the drive.
I put the case on the conference table.
Grant remained near the door.
Evelyn stared at him.
"Twenty years."
Grant said nothing.
"You could have come to me."
"My father owned me."
"Your father died eleven years ago."
"I know."
"Then what's your excuse for the last eleven?"
Grant looked at Ethan.
"Fear."
Not greed.
Not justification.
Fear.
For some reason, that answer sounded more believable than anything else.
One investigator, Special Agent Lena Torres, opened the case.
"We'll need to authenticate everything."
"Do it," I said.
She looked at Grant.
"And you?"
Grant swallowed.
"I'll testify."
Evelyn laughed bitterly.
"Now?"
"Yes."
"What changed?"
Grant looked at me.
"He stopped."
Nobody understood except me.
Grant continued.
"Yesterday morning, I told Ethan to leave a dying woman because I couldn't afford him missing a meeting. I heard myself say it."
He looked ashamed.
"I sounded exactly like my father."
The room became quiet.
It didn't forgive him.
But it explained something.
Agent Torres asked, "Where is Raymond Cole now?"
I pulled out my phone.
"I can find out."
Raymond had texted me that morning.
HEARD ABOUT THE JOB. CALL ME.
I called.
He answered on the second ring.
"Ethan."
His voice was warm.
Familiar.
That made it worse.
"Hey, Uncle Ray."
"You okay?"
"No."
"I heard Holloway fired you."
"How?"
Pause.
"Small city."
It wasn't a small city.
I looked at Torres.
She nodded for me to continue.
"Can I come over?"
"Of course."
"Tonight?"
"Anytime."
We arranged seven o'clock.
Torres wanted a wire.
I hated every second of it.
Raymond lived in the same house he'd owned for thirty years.
When he opened the door, he hugged me.
Actually hugged me.
"You look terrible."
"Thanks."
"Come in."
His living room contained photographs of my childhood.
Me at eight holding a fish.
Me at graduation.
My mother.
My father.
Raymond noticed me staring.
"I miss them too."
I almost lost control.
Instead, I sat.
"Did Dad work for Mercer?"
Raymond's face didn't move.
"Who told you that?"
"So he did."
He poured two glasses of water.
"He did a lot of things."
"Did he investigate you?"
Raymond slowly set down the pitcher.
"What exactly have you been told?"
"Answer me."
He sat opposite me.
"Your father was complicated."
"Everybody keeps saying that when they don't want to answer."
Raymond leaned back.
"Daniel believed rules mattered more than people."
"Was he wrong?"
"Sometimes."
I stared at the man who had been family my entire life.
"You knew about the key."
His eyes changed.
Barely.
But enough.
"What key?"
"The one Mom hid."
He smiled sadly.
"Ethan, you're grieving. You lost your mother recently. Now your job. People like Evelyn Mercer know how to use vulnerable people."
"She didn't tell me about the key."
That shook him.
"Then who did?"
"My father."
Raymond's fingers tightened around his glass.
I continued.
"He left me a letter."
Raymond stood.
"What did it say?"
There it was.
Not concern.
Fear.
"You tell me."
"Ethan."
"Did you threaten my mother after Dad died?"
"No."
"Did you go to our house looking for evidence?"
"No."
"Did you send men to Fairfax Tower?"
His face changed completely.
I had him.
Raymond walked toward the window.
"You shouldn't have gone there."
I felt Agent Torres listening through the transmitter under my shirt.
"Why?"
"Because some things stay buried for a reason."
"My father didn't think so."
"Your father got himself killed."
Silence.
Raymond realized what he had said.
I stopped breathing.
"What?"
He turned.
"I meant—"
"You said he got himself killed."
"Ethan."
"His death wasn't an accident."
Raymond looked toward my chest.
For one terrible second, I thought he had noticed the wire.
Then he said quietly, "Your father wasn't supposed to die."
My hands went cold.
"Who killed him?"
Raymond sat slowly.
"I made one phone call."
"To who?"
"I told somebody Daniel was going to the authorities."
"Who?"
He looked directly at me.
"My partner."
Outside, tires screeched.
Raymond's face went white.
He rushed toward the window.
"No."
"What?"
He pulled the curtain aside.
A black SUV had stopped across the street.
Raymond whispered, "He knows you're here."
Then somebody knocked three times on the front door.
Raymond backed away.
May you like
For the first time in my life, my uncle looked terrified.
"He came himself."
