Chapter 7 - The Trust Fund They Were Willing to Kill For
I stared at the note on the chair.
COME ALONE, JONATHAN.
Rebecca was still on the floor.
Blood ran from a cut above her eyebrow and disappeared into her hair.
I dropped beside her.
“Rebecca.”
She opened her eyes.
“Leo.”
“Where is he?”
She tried to sit.
I helped her.
“They took him.”
“Who?”
“Two men.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Richard?”
“I don’t know.”
“David?”
Her face collapsed.
“He tried to stop them.”
“What happened?”
“They hit him.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcus was already speaking into his radio.
“Lock down the fourth floor. Nobody enters or leaves. Get hospital security on every elevator and stairwell.”
A voice answered.
Marcus looked at me.
“Jonathan, don't go anywhere.”
I held up the note.
“They told me to come alone.”
“That’s exactly why you’re not going alone.”
“They have my grandson.”
“And that is exactly why you cannot walk into a trap.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She was trembling.
“Where were they taking him?”
She pointed toward the service corridor.
“I heard one of them say the parking garage.”
Marcus turned to his team.
“Garage lockdown. All exits.”
I stood.
Then Florence appeared at the end of the hallway.
She had followed us.
She saw Rebecca on the floor.
Then the empty chair.
Her face changed completely.
“Leo?”
I walked toward her.
“They took him.”
She covered her mouth.
“No.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You said they wanted him.”
“I knew they might.”
“Might?”
She stepped closer.
“Jonathan, listen to me.”
“You knew this could happen.”
“I knew they would use him if they believed the trust was still protected.”
“What does that mean?”
“The trust has a trigger.”
“I know.”
She looked startled.
“You read the letter.”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“That Leo becomes protected if someone tries to force or deceive me.”
Florence shook her head.
“Not exactly.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The trigger has another condition.”
David had disappeared.
Richard had appeared.
Christina had been drugged.
Leo had been taken.
I felt the pieces shifting again.
“What condition?”
Florence looked toward Marcus.
“Not here.”
“I don't care.”
“If they hear us, Leo may not come back.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“Then tell us.”
Florence looked at him.
“The trust only activates if Jonathan is declared incapacitated or if he voluntarily transfers control while under documented coercion.”
“That doesn't explain the kidnapping.”
“It does.”
She looked at me.
“They need Jonathan to sign something.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then why take Leo?”
“Because they need leverage.”
I stared at the note.
“Come alone.”
“They want me to sign.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The original trust amendment.”
“I already have a copy.”
“They need the original.”
“Why?”
“Because the original contains a clause that can be used to transfer temporary control.”
I looked at David’s empty chair.
“Where is David?”
Florence lowered her voice.
“They probably have him too.”
Marcus swore.
His radio crackled.
“Sir.”
He answered.
“What?”
“We found Mr. Monroe.”
Marcus went still.
“Where?”
“Basement loading area.”
“Condition?”
“Conscious. Injured.”
“Anyone else?”
“Negative.”
Marcus looked at me.
“He’s alive.”
I exhaled.
Then the radio crackled again.
“Sir, we found something else.”
“What?”
“A vehicle left the garage six minutes ago.”
“Plate?”
“Temporary.”
“Driver?”
“Unknown.”
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
“They planned the exit.”
Florence whispered:
“Of course they did.”
I turned toward her.
“You've seen this before.”
She nodded.
“Not with a child.”
“What happened before?”
“People disappeared.”
“Who?”
“Witnesses.”
“From Havenport?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you go to the police?”
“Because I did.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“I went to federal investigators eight years ago.”
“What happened?”
“They asked me questions.”
“And?”
“Three days later, my apartment was broken into.”
“Did they take anything?”
“Everything.”
“What about you?”
“I disappeared.”
“You became Florence.”
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“And Richard helped.”
“He created the identity.”
“Why?”
“So I could disappear without being found.”
“Then why did he send you toward me?”
Florence looked at the floor.
“Because he needed someone close to you.”
“And you agreed.”
“At first.”
“And then?”
“I realized what he was doing.”
“What?”
“He wasn't just trying to get your money.”
I waited.
“He was trying to gain control of the Prescott family trust.”
“Why?”
“Because your trust owns controlling interests in companies Richard has been secretly buying.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“What companies?”
“Construction firms. Property management. Insurance subsidiaries. Private lenders.”
“How many?”
“Seventeen.”
Marcus stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because I helped build the files.”
“You were part of it.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect us to trust you?”
“No.”
Her answer was immediate.
“I expect you to use the information.”
I looked at her.
That was the first honest thing she had said all day.
A security officer ran toward us.
“Mr. Prescott!”
Marcus turned.
“What?”
“We found the vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Three blocks away.”
“Empty?”
“No.”
The officer hesitated.
“There’s a child inside.”
My heart stopped.
I ran.
Marcus grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
I pulled free.
We reached the emergency exit.
A police cruiser was already waiting.
The officer opened the rear door.
Inside sat Leo.
Alive.
Awake.
Alone.
I dropped to my knees beside him.
“Buddy.”
He reached for me.
I pulled him into my arms.
He buried his face against my chest.
I held him so tightly he complained.
“Grandpa.”
“Sorry.”
I loosened my arms.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
“Where is David?”
Leo looked behind me.
“Uncle David was with them.”
“Who?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Did you see Richard?”
Leo thought.
Then nodded.
“Did Richard take you?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Leo whispered:
“The man from Grandpa’s house.”
My stomach tightened.
“What man?”
“The one who was hiding.”
Florence had reached us.
She heard him.
“What did he look like?”
Leo looked at her.
Then his face changed.
Fear.
Recognition.
He pointed.
“Him.”
Florence turned.
Nobody stood behind her.
Leo's finger moved toward the police officer.
Not Marcus.
Not the officer beside him.
Another man stood near the ambulance.
Dark jacket.
Gray hair.
Calm expression.
I recognized him.
Arthur Cross.
The lawyer who had called me from the hospital.
The father of the dead Claire Bellamy.
The man who had claimed he wanted to help.
He smiled faintly.
Then he said:
“Jonathan, you were never supposed to find him.”
Marcus immediately drew his weapon.
Arthur raised both hands.
“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”
“Step away from the child.”
Arthur did.
Leo clung to me.
I looked at Arthur.
“You knew where he was.”
“Yes.”
“You knew they would take him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Arthur's face became tired.
“Because I helped design the contingency.”
“What contingency?”
“The one your wife created.”
I froze.
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“You worked with her?”
“Briefly.”
“Then why did you lie to me?”
“Because I didn't know who was watching.”
“You knew Richard.”
“I knew what Richard had become.”
“And Claire?”
Arthur's expression broke.
“She was trying to stop him.”
“Was?”
“She died because she found the ledger.”
“What ledger?”
Arthur looked toward Florence.
“She has it.”
Florence stiffened.
“No.”
Arthur smiled sadly.
“You still have the wrong memory.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked at me.
“Florence never found the ledger.”
I stared at him.
“Then who did?”
Arthur pointed at Leo.
“The child.”
Leo's eyes dropped.
I looked at my grandson.
“Leo?”
He reached into his jacket.
His tiny hand pulled out something.
Not the USB.
A folded photograph.
On the back was handwriting.
Margaret’s handwriting.
I took it.
One sentence.
If Jonathan ever learns the truth, Leo must show him the room beneath the house.
I stared at the words.
“Our house has no room beneath it.”
Arthur looked at me.
“It does.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“What room?”
Arthur answered quietly.
“The one Richard has been using for six years.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES.
Another arrived.
A photograph.
My house.
The front door.
And a man standing inside it.
David.
His hands were tied.
Behind him stood Richard.
And beside Richard was someone I had never expected to see again.
My wife.
Margaret.
Alive in the photograph.
Standing exactly as she had looked six years ago.
May you like
Then the phone displayed one final message.
COME HOME, JONATHAN. YOUR WIFE IS WAITING.
