Chapter 5 - The Man Grant Really Worked For
Grant did not look frightened anymore.
That told Claire everything.
He stood beside Michael Warren on the warehouse floor as if he belonged there.
No panic.
No shame.
No confusion.
The man who had lost her in a poker game had not accidentally wandered into something dangerous.
He had led her into it.
Warren looked up.
"Claire."
She stepped toward the railing.
Vincent caught her arm.
"Don't."
Grant smiled.
"Hi, sweetheart."
The word made her stomach turn.
"Don't call me that."
Grant spread his hands.
"I tried to make this easy."
"You sold me."
"I created an opportunity."
Vincent's voice cut through the warehouse.
"Interesting definition."
Grant looked at him.
"Moretti."
Vincent descended the stairs slowly.
Marco and two guards flanked him.
Daniel stayed beside Claire.
Warren remained calm.
"Nobody needs to die."
Rourke laughed from the office.
"You've been saying that for twenty years."
Warren's smile vanished.
"Damian."
Rourke struggled to stand.
Claire helped him despite everything she had believed about him.
He leaned heavily against the desk.
Warren looked toward Claire.
"Your father made mistakes."
Claire descended one step.
Vincent looked back.
She ignored the warning.
"Where is he?"
"Safe."
"Where?"
"Find the ledger."
"And then?"
"I'll take you to him."
Daniel shouted, "You're lying."
Warren looked at him.
"My best student."
Daniel's face twisted.
"You used me."
"I gave you purpose."
"You made me spend five years infiltrating a man you knew wasn't behind Dad's death."
"I told you what you needed to believe."
Claire stared at Grant.
"And him?"
Grant shrugged.
"I had debts."
Vincent laughed quietly.
Grant glared.
"You think you're better?"
"I know exactly what I am."
Vincent stepped closer.
"You still pretend."
Grant's face reddened.
Warren raised one hand.
"Enough."
Vincent stopped.
"You're in Rourke's warehouse."
Warren smiled.
"And you're surrounded."
Lights appeared behind the upper windows.
Laser sights moved across the walls.
Marco glanced around.
Vincent remained calm.
"Federal?"
Warren shook his head.
"Private."
Rourke laughed again.
"You finally stopped pretending too."
Claire looked at Warren.
"You were the leak."
"Yes."
"You exposed my testimony."
"Yes."
"You let them remove me from protection."
"Necessary."
"Why?"
"You wouldn't cooperate."
"I testified."
"Against the wrong man."
Claire looked at Rourke.
Years of hatred suddenly felt misplaced.
Warren continued.
"Patrick gave you information without context."
"My father is alive."
"Yes."
"Why didn't he contact me?"
Warren's expression shifted.
"He couldn't."
Claire heard the careful phrasing.
"Couldn't?"
Daniel noticed too.
"Where is he?"
Warren sighed.
"Your father has been in medical care for eight years."
Claire's throat tightened.
"What happened?"
"Memory damage."
She stared.
"From the shooting?"
"Partly."
"Partly?"
Warren looked toward Rourke.
"Patrick tried to disappear."
Rourke said nothing.
Warren continued.
"He had collected enough information to destroy powerful people. Government officials. corporations. criminal organizations."
Vincent watched him.
"Including your own operation."
"Of course."
"Why keep him alive?"
"Because only Patrick knew how to reconstruct the ledger."
Claire understood.
"But then he lost his memory."
Warren nodded.
"So you needed us."
"Eventually."
Daniel gripped his weapon.
"That's why you recruited me."
"Yes."
"And why you protected Claire."
"Until she became difficult."
Claire laughed bitterly.
"Meaning until I realized you were lying."
Warren smiled faintly.
"You were always perceptive."
Grant shifted beside him.
Claire looked at her former fiancé.
"How long?"
Grant hesitated.
"Claire—"
"How long were you watching me?"
"About eighteen months."
She almost stopped breathing.
They had been dating for twenty-two.
Every dinner.
Every weekend.
Every whispered promise.
A performance.
"You proposed."
Grant looked away.
Warren answered for him.
"We needed stability around you."
Claire's eyes burned.
"You told him to marry me?"
Grant snapped, "It wasn't all fake."
She looked at him.
That somehow made it worse.
Grant stepped forward.
"I did care about you."
"You grabbed me by the wrist."
"I was under pressure."
"You wagered me."
"I knew Moretti wouldn't hurt you."
Vincent's expression became lethal.
Grant continued quickly.
"It was the easiest way to put her near someone Warren thought might recognize the code."
Claire turned toward Vincent.
"What?"
Warren smiled.
"Lorenzo Moretti helped Patrick design the encryption."
Vincent stared.
"My father?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Lorenzo knew the day would come when someone tried to steal it."
Vincent's thoughts moved quickly.
His father's obsession with old books.
Numbers.
Codes in ledgers nobody else understood.
The locked study Vincent was forbidden to enter.
Vincent looked at Claire's bracelet.
Warren followed his gaze.
"Now you see why I wanted the two of you together."
Claire felt sick.
"The poker game."
Grant looked away.
She understood.
"You planned it."
Grant said nothing.
"Did you even lose the money?"
Warren smiled.
"That part was real."
Vincent almost laughed.
Grant glared.
Claire stepped off the stairs.
"So you staged my humiliation."
Grant's voice softened.
"I needed Moretti interested enough to keep you nearby."
"You could have asked for help."
"You wouldn't have believed me."
"No."
Claire looked him directly in the eyes.
"I wouldn't have trusted you."
Grant had no answer.
Warren checked his watch.
"The sentimental portion is finished."
He looked at Vincent.
"Give me the bracelet."
"No."
"Then people die."
"People already have."
"More will."
Vincent took the bracelet from his pocket.
Claire watched.
"Vincent."
He glanced at her.
She shook her head.
He understood.
The bracelet mattered.
But so did time.
Vincent tossed it.
Warren caught it.
He smiled.
"Thank you."
Then Claire said, "It's useless."
Warren looked at her.
"The number doesn't work without the book."
"We have the book."
"No."
Warren's expression changed.
Claire remembered Rourke's words.
You have a book.
She took a chance.
"My mother's copy was the key."
Warren watched her carefully.
"You already opened her grave."
Daniel looked at Claire.
Warren's silence confirmed it.
Claire continued.
"But you didn't find the book."
"No."
"Because she wasn't buried with it."
Warren's jaw tightened.
"Where is it?"
Claire smiled for the first time that night.
"I don't know."
Warren raised a hand.
One of the laser sights shifted onto Daniel's chest.
Claire's smile disappeared.
"Don't."
"Where is the book?"
"I said I don't know."
Warren looked toward Grant.
"Perhaps motivation."
Grant hesitated.
"Mike."
"Do it."
Grant pulled a pistol.
Claire stared.
Grant's hand trembled.
"Grant."
He looked miserable.
"Tell him."
"I can't."
"Claire, please."
"I don't know."
Warren sighed.
"Then shoot Daniel."
Grant froze.
Daniel raised his weapon.
Vincent moved subtly.
Everything narrowed.
Claire looked at Grant.
"If any part of you ever cared about me, don't."
Grant's eyes filled.
Warren spoke quietly.
"Grant."
Grant turned the gun.
Not toward Daniel.
Toward Warren.
"Enough."
Warren stared.
Grant breathed hard.
"I didn't sign up for murder."
Rourke laughed weakly from upstairs.
Warren's voice became cold.
"You signed up for whatever I told you."
Grant shook his head.
"No."
Warren barely moved.
A shot cracked.
Grant jerked.
Claire screamed.
He dropped to one knee.
Blood spread along his shoulder.
Chaos exploded.
Vincent pulled Claire behind a steel support.
Daniel fired toward the upper windows.
Marco's men returned fire.
Rourke dragged himself behind the office wall.
Grant crawled across the concrete.
Claire saw him.
"Grant!"
Vincent grabbed her.
"No."
"He's hurt."
"He chose his side."
"He just chose ours."
Another shot struck nearby.
Claire tore away.
Vincent cursed and followed.
They reached Grant together.
Vincent dragged him behind cover.
Grant groaned.
"It's through the shoulder."
Claire pressed fabric against the wound.
Grant looked at her.
"I'm sorry."
"Save it."
"I really did—"
"Not now."
Warren's men began retreating.
Daniel shouted, "They're moving!"
Vincent looked toward the loading bay.
Warren was disappearing through a side door.
"Marco!"
Marco pursued.
Daniel followed.
Claire stayed with Grant.
Vincent hesitated.
Then chose Claire.
He remained.
Grant noticed.
A strange smile crossed his face.
"You like her."
Vincent stared at him.
"Try not to bleed to death."
Grant almost laughed.
Claire pressed harder.
"Where is my father?"
Grant's smile disappeared.
"I don't know."
"You worked for Warren."
"He never told me."
"What do you know?"
Grant looked toward the door Warren used.
"There was a facility."
Claire leaned closer.
"Where?"
"North."
"How far?"
"I don't know."
"Grant."
"He called it Saint Catherine."
Daniel returned.
"Warren escaped."
Claire looked at him.
"Saint Catherine."
Daniel stopped.
"What?"
"Does that mean anything?"
Daniel's face changed.
"There was a Saint Catherine rehabilitation hospital."
Vincent looked at him.
"Was?"
"Closed twelve years ago."
"Where?"
"Near Lake Geneva."
Claire stood.
"My father."
Daniel nodded.
"Maybe."
Rourke came slowly down the stairs.
"You won't find Patrick there."
Claire turned.
"Why?"
"Because Warren moved him yesterday."
"Where?"
Rourke looked exhausted.
"I don't know."
Claire closed her eyes.
Another dead end.
Then Grant spoke from the floor.
"Check my jacket."
Claire frowned.
"What?"
"Inside pocket."
She reached carefully.
A folded receipt.
Gas station.
Wisconsin.
Yesterday.
On the back, a set of coordinates had been written by hand.
Daniel looked.
"Where is this?"
Marco entered the coordinates into his phone.
His expression changed.
"Lake Geneva."
Claire's heart pounded.
Grant whispered, "Warren made me drive there."
"When?"
"Last week."
"What did you see?"
"Nothing."
"Grant."
"I waited outside."
Vincent took the receipt.
"Outside what?"
Grant looked toward Claire.
"A house."
Claire felt hope and dread at the same time.
"Was my father there?"
Grant swallowed.
"I don't know."
Then he remembered something.
"No."
Claire leaned closer.
"What?"
Grant's face became pale.
"There was a woman."
Claire stopped.
"What woman?"
"Older. Maybe late fifties."
Claire's heart began pounding harder.
Grant closed his eyes.
"She came onto the porch."
Daniel whispered, "Describe her."
Grant did.
Silver-blonde hair.
Small frame.
Blue eyes.
A scar near the left eyebrow.
Claire covered her mouth.
Daniel stared.
Vincent looked between them.
"Who?"
Claire could barely form the words.
"My mother."
Grant opened his eyes.
"And she wasn't alone."
Claire leaned closer.
"Who was with her?"
Grant whispered the answer.
"Your father."
Then Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
And slowly looked toward Vincent.
"What?" Vincent asked.
May you like
Marco's voice dropped.
"Someone just set the Lake Geneva house on fire."
