Chapter 8 - The Call From a Dead Number
Marcus answered the phone on speaker.
Nobody spoke at first.
Then a woman whispered:
"Margaret?"
Marcus replied, "This is Detective Hale."
The line went silent.
"Rachel?"
A breath.
Then:
"Where is Margaret?"
"In custody."
Another silence.
"Good."
Claire stepped toward the phone.
"Mom?"
The woman gasped.
"Claire?"
Claire started crying.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Are you safe?"
"No."
Marcus moved closer.
"Rachel, we can protect you."
"You said that eleven years ago."
"I wasn't involved eleven years ago."
"Then ask your chief what happened."
"Samuel Grant is missing."
The line became quiet.
"Missing?"
"Yes."
Rachel's voice changed.
"Then Richard has him."
"Why?"
"Because Samuel kept the original ledger."
Marcus asked, "Where?"
"I don't know."
"Rachel, who was protecting Richard inside the department?"
She hesitated.
"Samuel."
Claire recoiled.
"What?"
"Not willingly."
Rachel continued.
"Richard had proof Samuel falsified records years earlier to protect me."
"So Grant covered crimes to keep you hidden," Marcus said.
"Yes."
"And Richard blackmailed him."
"Yes."
It fit both versions.
Grant had protected Rachel.
And compromised himself doing it.
"What about David's watch?" I asked.
Rachel went silent.
"Daniel?"
"Yes."
"You sound like him."
I couldn't answer.
"What does the name Samuel Grant mean?"
"Your father didn't trust Samuel at first."
"Did he later?"
"Yes."
"Then why hide his name in the watch?"
"Because Samuel was supposed to receive something if David died."
"What?"
"The original evidence."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
"Who does?"
Rachel whispered:
"Margaret."
My mother again.
I almost laughed.
Every road led back to her.
"Why was your passport in her guesthouse?"
Another pause.
"Because I stayed there."
"When?"
"Last month."
Claire stared.
"You were here?"
"I couldn't contact you."
"Why?"
"Because Richard had someone watching you."
"Who?"
"Daniel's assistant."
Claire shook her head.
"I was his assistant."
"Not you."
I froze.
"I only have one assistant."
"No," Rachel said. "You have someone inside your company reporting your movements."
My flight.
My hotel.
My schedule.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Marcus asked Rachel to surrender.
She refused.
But she agreed to meet us the following morning at a church outside town.
She gave precise instructions.
No marked police cars.
No media.
Claire could come.
I could come.
Emily could not.
I hated that condition.
Emily insisted I go anyway.
"If Rachel can finish what your father started, go."
"You'll have protection."
"I know."
At 9:00 a.m., Marcus, Claire, and I entered the church.
Empty pews.
Stained glass.
No Rachel.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Claire paced.
"She wouldn't miss this."
At 9:22, a phone rang.
Not ours.
A burner phone lay beneath the front pew.
Marcus answered.
Rachel's recorded voice played.
"If I don't arrive, check the cemetery."
The line ended.
Behind the church was a small cemetery.
We searched.
On David Mercer's grave sat a black envelope.
Inside was a storage unit key.
And a photograph of Samuel Grant tied to a chair.
Today's newspaper lay across his lap.
Alive.
A message was written beneath it.
LEDGER FOR GRANT.
Marcus swore.
"Richard."
Claire stared at her father's photograph.
"He has him."
I called Richard.
Straight to voicemail.
Marcus began coordinating a search.
The storage unit was registered under a false name.
Inside, officers found dozens of archive boxes.
And one locked briefcase.
No ledger.
But there was a laptop.
On it was a live video.
Samuel Grant.
Bound.
Bruised.
Alive.
A distorted voice spoke through the speakers.
"Daniel Mercer."
I stepped forward.
Marcus grabbed my arm.
"Don't."
The voice continued.
"Your father created this problem."
I stared at the screen.
"Richard."
A laugh.
"Still eager to trust names."
"Let Grant go."
"Bring me what David left you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You will."
The screen changed.
Emily appeared.
My heart stopped.
She was sitting safely in our hotel suite.
A camera showed her from across the room.
Again.
Someone had surveillance access.
The distorted voice said:
"Your father hid the final account key where only you could find it."
"Where?"
"He gave you the answer years ago."
"I don't know."
"Then think faster."
The video returned to Grant.
"You have six hours."
Screen black.
I called Emily.
The security officers immediately searched her room.
No hidden camera.
Which meant the footage was old.
Or the camera was elsewhere.
Marcus said, "He's manipulating you."
"Grant could die."
"That's why we don't follow instructions blindly."
Claire turned to me.
"What did your father give you?"
"Nothing."
"Think."
Memories.
Birthday gifts.
Books.
Fishing trips.
The watch.
Then something surfaced.
When I was fourteen, my father gave me a chess set.
Hand-carved.
He told me never to lose the black king.
I hadn't thought about it in years.
"Chess."
"What?" Marcus asked.
"My father gave me a chess set."
"Where is it?"
"My mother's guesthouse."
Of course.
She had stored childhood boxes there during renovations.
We returned.
Inside one box was the chess set.
One piece was missing.
The black king.
I stared.
"She took it."
Marcus called the detention facility.
My mother agreed to speak.
I held the phone.
"Where is the black king?"
She didn't pretend ignorance.
"Safe."
"Where?"
"Daniel, listen carefully."
"Grant is being held."
Silence.
"What?"
"Richard has him."
"Where is the chess piece?"
"You don't understand what it opens."
"Then tell me."
"It's not a key."
"What is it?"
"A container."
My pulse accelerated.
"What's inside?"
"Numbers."
"Account numbers?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Coordinates."
"To where?"
Mother began crying.
"The place where your father hid the ledger."
"Give me the piece."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"I gave it to someone."
"Who?"
She whispered:
"Emily."
I turned.
"What?"
"The day before I locked her in the shed."
"Why?"
"I slipped it into her purse."
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I knew Richard was coming."
My mind reeled.
Emily's purse had been collected from the backyard.
It was currently in police evidence.
Marcus immediately called.
Twenty minutes later, an officer brought it.
Inside a hidden side pocket was the black king.
I twisted its base.
It opened.
A tiny strip of paper slid out.
Latitude.
Longitude.
Marcus entered them into his phone.
A location appeared.
An abandoned railway tunnel thirty miles north.
Claire stared.
"My mother mentioned that place once."
"When?"
"When I was a child."
"What did she say?"
Claire looked at me.
"She said that's where David Mercer saved her life."
Marcus called tactical units.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One photograph.
Rachel.
Standing inside a dark tunnel.
Holding a metal ledger box.
May you like
Behind her stood Richard.
And the timestamp showed thirty seconds ago.
