Chapter 2 - The Brother Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Claire had spent seven years telling herself that Daniel Bennett was dead.
She had never seen a body.
That fact had once given her hope.
Later it became the reason she stopped sleeping.
Now Daniel stood on the other side of Vincent Moretti's door.
Alive.
Marco watched the camera.
"Want me to bring him in?"
Claire shook her head.
"No."
Vincent looked at her.
"You just said he's your brother."
"He was."
Daniel knocked again.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
Claire's hands tightened.
Vincent noticed.
"What?"
"That was our signal when we were kids."
"For what?"
Claire stared at the door.
"It meant don't trust anyone else in the room."
Vincent almost smiled.
"Convenient."
She turned toward him.
"You think I'm lying?"
"I think four armed men entered my building, a sniper fired through my window, and your supposedly dead brother arrived carrying a sealed federal case number."
He gestured toward the door.
"I think we're past convenient explanations."
Marco checked the hallway.
"The first man moved back toward the stairs. Brother's alone now."
Vincent nodded.
"Search him."
Two guards opened the door.
Daniel immediately raised his hands.
He looked older than Claire remembered.
Thirty-four now.
Lean.
Dark blond hair cropped close.
A scar stretched from his jaw toward his left ear.
He let the guards search him.
No weapon.
Only the envelope.
Then they brought him inside.
Claire did not move toward him.
Neither did Daniel.
For several seconds they simply stared.
Daniel's eyes filled first.
"Claire."
She slapped him.
The sound carried through the room.
Nobody interfered.
Daniel touched his cheek.
"I deserved that."
"You're alive."
"Yes."
"Seven years."
"I know."
"Seven years."
"I know."
She slapped him again.
This time she started crying.
"You let me bury you without a body."
Daniel swallowed.
"If you'd known, they would've used you to find me."
"They used me anyway!"
Vincent watched from several feet away.
He did not like family reunions.
They created unpredictable decisions.
Claire shoved Daniel in the chest.
"Our mother died thinking you were dead."
Pain flashed across Daniel's face.
"I know."
"You don't get to say that."
"I know."
"Stop saying you know!"
Daniel fell silent.
Claire turned away.
Vincent looked at the envelope.
"Open it."
Daniel hesitated.
"Not here."
Marco laughed once.
Daniel glanced around.
"Your windows were compromised."
"We know."
"Then Rourke's team has visual surveillance."
Vincent stepped closer.
"You walked into my building with armed men."
"They weren't mine."
"Who were they?"
"I don't know."
"Wrong answer."
Daniel looked toward Claire.
"I came because I heard Rourke found her."
Claire wiped her face.
"How?"
Daniel's eyes moved toward Grant's abandoned place at the poker table.
"Holloway."
Claire went cold.
"No."
Daniel nodded.
"Grant sold your location."
Vincent's expression hardened.
Claire stared at Daniel.
"Grant didn't know."
"He knew enough."
"No. I never told him about Rourke."
"You didn't have to."
Daniel opened the envelope.
Inside were photographs.
Claire leaving her apartment.
Claire entering a grocery store.
Claire visiting a dentist.
Claire standing outside a café.
Every image was dated.
The oldest was five months earlier.
Claire's legs weakened.
Vincent caught her elbow.
She pulled away immediately.
"Sorry."
He released her.
Daniel spread the photographs across the poker table.
"He hired a private investigator."
Claire shook her head.
"Why?"
"He thought you were cheating."
A bitter laugh escaped her.
"Of course he did."
"The investigator found inconsistencies in your identity."
Vincent picked up one image.
"What inconsistencies?"
Daniel answered.
"Claire Bennett isn't her legal name."
Vincent looked at her.
She did not deny it.
"What is?"
"Claire Sullivan."
Marco's expression changed.
Vincent noticed.
"You've heard it."
Marco nodded.
"Sullivan Financial."
Claire closed her eyes.
Vincent understood.
Sullivan Financial had collapsed eight years earlier in one of the largest private money-laundering investigations in Illinois history.
Its founder, Patrick Sullivan, disappeared before federal authorities could arrest him.
Some claimed he fled overseas.
Others claimed he had been murdered.
Vincent looked at Claire.
"Patrick Sullivan."
"My father."
The room became very quiet.
Daniel continued.
"Our father wasn't just laundering money."
Claire turned sharply.
"Stop."
"He was keeping records."
"Daniel."
Vincent looked between them.
"Records of what?"
Daniel placed the envelope on the table.
"Payments."
"To whom?"
"Politicians. police. judges. corporate executives."
Marco cursed under his breath.
Daniel continued.
"And organized crime."
Vincent's gaze sharpened.
"Which organization?"
Daniel looked straight at him.
"All of them."
Claire stepped closer.
"That's not what Dad told me."
"Dad lied."
"He was trying to protect us."
"Dad was trying to protect himself."
Claire's jaw tightened.
"You disappeared."
"I was recruited."
"By who?"
Daniel hesitated.
Vincent noticed immediately.
Claire did too.
"Daniel."
"Federal intelligence."
Vincent almost laughed.
"That's vague."
"It's supposed to be."
Claire stared at her brother.
"You became an informant?"
"No."
"What, then?"
Daniel looked at Vincent.
"I infiltrated Rourke's operation."
The words landed heavily.
Vincent crossed his arms.
"For seven years?"
"Five."
"Where were you before that?"
"Training. relocation. establishing an identity."
Claire looked sick.
"Mom died during that time."
Daniel's face tightened.
"I know."
"And you didn't come."
"If I came, Rourke would've followed me."
"So you let her die thinking both her children had abandoned her."
Daniel looked down.
Claire turned away.
Vincent studied her.
This woman had been carrying more secrets than most men in his world survived.
Daniel pushed the photographs aside.
"Claire testified because she found something Dad hid."
Vincent looked at her.
"What?"
She said nothing.
Daniel answered.
"A ledger."
Vincent's expression changed.
Claire glared at her brother.
"You promised."
"I promised before four armed men found you."
"Nobody knows where it is."
"Rourke thinks you do."
"I don't."
Daniel stared at her.
"Claire."
"I don't."
Vincent noticed the wording.
"You don't know where it is."
Claire looked at him.
"No."
"You didn't say it doesn't exist."
Her silence confirmed enough.
Daniel exhaled.
"Dad split the information."
Vincent leaned forward.
"Explain."
"The original ledger was digital."
"Encrypted?"
"Fragmented."
"Across what?"
Daniel looked toward Claire's bracelet.
Vincent followed his gaze.
The cracked silver bracelet still lay beside the chips.
Three tiny numbers were scratched into the clasp.
Vincent picked it up.
Claire moved quickly.
"Give me that."
He held it out of reach.
"What are these?"
"Nothing."
Daniel laughed bitterly.
"Claire."
She turned on him.
"You don't get to come back from the dead and start exposing everything."
Daniel's voice softened.
"We don't have time."
Vincent examined the numbers.
4-1-7.
"What does 417 mean?"
Claire closed her eyes.
Daniel answered.
"Safe-deposit box."
Vincent looked at him.
"Where?"
"That's the problem."
Claire stared at her brother.
"You don't know?"
"Dad moved it."
"Then why are they hunting me?"
"Because Rourke believes you know."
"I don't."
Daniel stepped closer.
"You might."
Claire shook her head.
"You were fourteen when Dad started the code system."
She froze.
Vincent noticed.
Daniel continued.
"He used your childhood memories as encryption prompts."
"That's insane."
"It worked."
Claire's breathing changed.
Vincent lowered the bracelet.
"What memories?"
Daniel pointed to the three digits.
"Apartment 417."
Claire stared.
Their childhood apartment.
Before the money.
Before private schools.
Before their father's tailored suits and black cars.
Apartment 417 on West Addison Street.
Claire whispered, "That building was demolished."
"Six years ago."
"So there is nothing there."
Daniel looked at her carefully.
"Maybe not."
Vincent interrupted.
"Why did federal authorities stop protecting her?"
Daniel's expression darkened.
"Because someone inside the program leaked her testimony."
Claire went still.
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
"Someone inside the government?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Convenient again."
Daniel stepped closer.
"I came here because I found out Rourke had a source inside the task force."
"And you expect me to trust you?"
"No."
Daniel glanced toward Claire.
"I expect you to keep her alive until I find out who it is."
Claire laughed without humor.
"I don't need him to keep me alive."
Vincent looked at her bruised wrist.
"You chose Holloway."
She flinched.
He regretted it immediately but did not apologize.
Claire lifted her chin.
"I chose someone ordinary."
"Grant Holloway is many things. Ordinary isn't one."
"I thought ordinary meant safe."
Vincent understood that more than she knew.
His father had once believed money created safety.
It had created targets instead.
Marco approached.
"Boss."
Vincent turned.
"Security found Holloway's car."
"Where?"
"Garage level three."
"Bring him back."
"Can't."
"Why?"
"He's gone."
"On foot?"
Marco shook his head.
"Camera caught him getting into another vehicle."
"What vehicle?"
"Black Escalade."
Daniel's face changed.
Claire noticed.
"What?"
Daniel walked to the monitor.
"Show me."
Marco pulled up the garage feed.
Grant emerged from the elevator.
He looked nervous.
A black SUV rolled forward.
The rear door opened.
Grant hesitated.
Then climbed inside.
Daniel leaned closer to the screen.
"Pause."
Marco froze the image.
Daniel pointed toward the driver.
A partial profile.
Vincent recognized him.
"Marcus Vale."
Marco cursed.
Claire looked between them.
"Who?"
Vincent answered.
"Rourke's operations chief."
Claire stared at the frozen image.
"Grant knows him?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Worse."
"What could be worse?"
Vincent looked at Claire.
"Grant has been working for him."
Her knees almost buckled.
Vincent moved instinctively.
This time she allowed him to steady her.
Only for a second.
Then she pulled away.
Daniel's phone vibrated.
He checked it.
His face drained.
"What?"
Daniel looked toward Claire.
"They found the old apartment site."
She frowned.
"There's nothing there."
Daniel turned the screen.
A live photo showed a construction lot where Apartment 417 once stood.
Police lights.
Black vehicles.
Several men.
Then another message arrived.
Daniel read it.
His jaw tightened.
Vincent stepped closer.
"What does it say?"
Daniel looked at Claire.
"Rourke's people just dug something out of the foundation."
Claire whispered, "What?"
Daniel's phone buzzed again.
A photograph appeared.
A rusted metal box.
On its lid was Claire's childhood name.
May you like
CLAIRE SULLIVAN.
And someone had already opened it.
