Chapter 3 - The Name on the White Card
Celia called back.
Nothing.
Again.
Voicemail.
“Police,” she said.
Lorenzo nodded.
This time he did not argue.
Within twenty minutes, officers were checking Elaine Mercer’s address.
She wasn’t there.
Her car wasn’t there.
Her phone was off.
Celia paced.
“I have to go to the office.”
“No.”
“She called me from somewhere.”
“Which is exactly why you don’t walk blindly into the place connected to all of this.”
“She may have left something.”
“And whoever visited your apartment may know that.”
Celia hated that he was right.
“What do you suggest?”
“Wait until morning. Go with police present.”
“And if evidence disappears overnight?”
Lorenzo studied her.
“You always this difficult?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“People who are easy to control don’t usually leave men like Travis.”
The words landed unexpectedly.
Celia looked away.
At 1:20 a.m., she finally called her old friend Hannah Cole.
Hannah answered sleepily.
“Celia?”
Celia almost cried at the sound of her voice.
Instead she said, “I know I’ve been terrible.”
Hannah became instantly awake.
“What happened?”
Twenty minutes later, Hannah arrived.
She hugged Celia without asking for an explanation first.
That nearly broke her.
Lorenzo left only after Hannah promised to remain until morning.
At the door, Celia stopped him.
“Why are you helping me?”
He looked down at her.
“Because I was there.”
“That explains the street.”
“Yes.”
“Not this.”
“No.”
“Then?”
Lorenzo glanced toward Hannah, giving Celia the impression there was something he would not say in front of another person.
Finally he said, “My father died believing someone he trusted had stolen from him. If your file proves he was wrong, I need the truth too.”
Then he left.
At eight the next morning, Celia entered her office accompanied by a detective.
Elaine’s desk was untouched.
Her coffee mug remained beside her keyboard.
Celia opened drawers.
Nothing.
Then she remembered Elaine’s habit of keeping duplicate notes inside outdated policy manuals because nobody ever touched them.
Third shelf.
Municipal Compliance Procedures, 2018.
A folded envelope slid out.
CELIA.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten note.
If anything happens, do not trust the official Halcyon file. Compare it with Daniel’s copy.
Daniel’s copy.
Celia called Lorenzo.
They met at a small private office owned by one of his companies.
Hannah came too.
“You’re not disappearing on me again,” Hannah told Celia.
For the first time in months, Celia smiled.
They opened the flash drive on an isolated laptop.
Hundreds of files.
Daniel had been building a parallel investigation.
Property transfers.
Emails.
Bank records.
Photographs.
The pattern became clear.
Halcyon purchased struggling buildings through shell companies, manipulated valuations, then profited through redevelopment contracts.
But someone else had financed the earliest acquisitions.
Duca Capital.
Lorenzo stared at the screen.
“My father.”
“Was he involved?” Hannah asked.
“No.”
“You sound certain.”
“I was working beside him then.”
Celia looked at him.
“You said your family had property investments.”
“We did. My father invested in redevelopment projects. Twelve years ago, he discovered money missing from one of the funds. He accused his chief financial officer.”
“Who?”
“Anthony Vale.”
Celia searched.
The name appeared repeatedly.
Consultant.
Authorized representative.
Intermediary.
Then it disappeared from records nine years earlier.
“What happened to him?”
“Heart attack.”
Hannah frowned.
“So a dead CFO and a missing investigator?”
“Daniel isn’t confirmed missing,” Celia said.
Lorenzo clicked another folder.
PERSONAL.
Inside were photographs.
Travis leaving a Halcyon office.
Travis meeting Elaine.
Travis sitting across from Daniel Price.
Celia’s stomach turned.
“He knew Daniel.”
A timestamp showed the photograph had been taken four months ago.
Two months before Daniel supposedly resigned.
Another image.
Travis entering Celia’s apartment building.
Not unusual when they were dating.
Except for the date.
Three weeks after Celia ended the relationship.
“He told me he hadn’t been inside.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Celia opened the next document.
A transcript of messages between unidentified accounts.
Find out what cases she’s assigned.
She trusts you.
Keep it that way.
Celia’s hands went cold.
Travis had not simply become controlling.
Someone had used their relationship.
Maybe from the beginning.
“No,” she whispered.
Hannah touched her shoulder.
“Celia.”
“I met Travis at a conference connected to work.”
She remembered.
A compliance conference.
Travis had spilled coffee near her table.
He had joked about owing her a new notebook.
Two days later, he found her online.
Had that been planned?
She clicked the next file.
A scanned memo appeared.
At the bottom was a signature.
TRAVIS HAIL.
The memo concerned “information access through CV.”
Celia Vaughn.
Her initials.
Lorenzo leaned closer.
“There.”
A payment.
$38,000.
Recipient hidden behind an LLC.
But Daniel had added a note.
BENEFICIARY CONFIRMED: T. HAIL.
Celia stood so quickly the chair rolled backward.
“I need air.”
She reached the hallway.
Lorenzo followed but stopped several feet away.
He didn’t touch her.
Celia appreciated that more than she could explain.
“I thought he loved me.”
Lorenzo remained silent.
“I spent months asking myself when he changed.”
Her voice cracked.
“What if he never changed?”
“Then what he did says something about him. Not you.”
Celia looked at him.
“I’m an investigator. I’m supposed to notice patterns.”
“You did.”
“Too late.”
“You left.”
“After two years.”
“You still left.”
Celia wiped her eyes angrily.
Lorenzo looked away, giving her privacy without leaving.
After a moment, she breathed again.
They returned to the computer.
Hannah had found another folder.
It contained audio files.
The first was Daniel’s voice.
“If you’re hearing this, Mercer was right. Someone inside the department has been feeding Halcyon information.”
Celia leaned closer.
Daniel continued.
“I initially suspected Elaine. I was wrong.”
Static.
Then:
“The leak is Deputy Director—”
The recording cut out.
“Corrupted,” Hannah said.
“Can it be recovered?”
“Maybe.”
A second file remained.
Celia clicked.
Daniel again.
This recording sounded different.
Breathing fast.
Moving.
“I found the original ledger. Account 417 isn’t a bank account. It’s a storage reference.”
Lorenzo went still.
Daniel continued.
“Duca’s father hid the records before he died. Whoever finds locker 417 finds everything.”
Celia looked at Lorenzo.
“Where?”
Daniel’s recording answered.
“Union Station.”
Then a noise sounded behind him.
Daniel whispered:
“They found me.”
The audio ended.
Lorenzo reached for his coat.
Celia did too.
“No.”
She glared at him.
“My investigation.”
“My father’s ledger.”
“My ex.”
“Fine.”
Hannah stood.
“Then I’m coming.”
“No,” Celia and Lorenzo said simultaneously.
Hannah rolled her eyes.
“Cute.”
An hour later, Celia and Lorenzo entered Union Station.
Locker 417 was in an older storage corridor scheduled for renovation.
Lorenzo inserted the key found digitally photographed among Daniel’s files.
It turned.
Inside sat a small metal box.
Celia lifted it out.
There was no ledger.
Only a photograph.
Lorenzo picked it up.
His expression changed.
The photograph showed Lorenzo’s father.
Anthony Vale.
And a much younger Travis.
On the back, someone had written:
HE WAS THERE FROM THE BEGINNING.
Beneath it was a second line.
ASK LORENZO ABOUT HIS BROTHER.
Celia slowly raised her eyes.
“You have a brother?”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Footsteps sounded behind them.
A man’s voice echoed through the corridor.
“Lorenzo?”
May you like
Every trace of color left Lorenzo’s face.
He recognized the voice.
