Chapter 7
Ethan’s apartment was in a luxury building on Commonwealth Avenue.
Doorman.
Elevator.
Security cameras in every hallway.
Sarah talked our way past the doorman by flashing her private investigator license—she’d gotten it three years ago after her sister went missing, never expecting to use it for something like this.
We took the elevator to the fourteenth floor.
Penthouse.
Sarah knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again.
Louder.
“Ethan! Boston Police! Open up!”
Still nothing.
She looked at me.
“Plan B.”
She pulled a small tool kit from her purse.
Thirty seconds later, the lock clicked.
We stepped inside.
The apartment was immaculate.
Nothing out of place.
No suitcases.
No mess.
Nothing to suggest he was running.
“Search everything,” Sarah whispered. “Laptops. Files. Phones. Anything that tells us where they went.”
We split up.
I took the home office.
Sarah took the bedroom.
The office was terrifyingly organized.
Color-coded files.
Labeled drawers.
Everything in its place.
I opened the desk drawers one by one.
Pens.
Staples.
Paper clips.
Nothing useful.
Then I noticed the safe.
Built into the wall behind a painting.
Small.
Electronic lock.
“Sarah!”
She came in.
Saw the safe.
“Give me two minutes.”
She worked the dial while I watched the door.
Thirty seconds later, there was a soft click.
The door swung open.
Inside were three things.
A stack of cash—about fifty thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills.
A leather-bound journal.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph first.
Four people.
Victoria.
Megan.
Ethan.
And my father.
Smiling.
Drinking champagne.
Taken in what looked like a private dining room.
The date written on the back in Ethan’s neat handwriting.
*Celebration. Phase one complete. Two more weeks.*
Two weeks before my mother collapsed.
They’d been celebrating.
My stomach turned.
I handed the photo to Sarah.
Picked up the journal.
It was Ethan’s.
Every entry dated.
Every detail recorded.
I flipped to the first entry.
Six months ago.
*Mother has made contact with Richard Hale. The target is vulnerable. Resentful of his wife’s wealth and status. Estimated timeline: six months to gain full trust and execute the transfer.*
Next entry.
*Megan has successfully cloned Evelyn Hale’s phone. All calls, texts, and emails are now being forwarded to our server. She suspects nothing.*
And on it went.
Week after week.
Every step planned.
Every manipulation recorded.
I flipped to the last entry.
Dated yesterday.
*Richard has been arrested. He will almost certainly talk. Mother wants to accelerate the timeline. Liquidate remaining assets and depart within twelve hours. Megan is nervous. She’s always been the weak link. I’ve arranged for the nurse to handle Evelyn tonight. No loose ends. Flight plan filed for St. Kitts via Bermuda. Departure 4 a.m. from Hanscom.*
Then, in smaller handwriting, scrawled at the bottom of the page.
*Changed the plan. Mother is too emotional. Too focused on revenge. Revenge doesn’t pay. I’ve rerouted the aircraft. New destination: Panama. New accounts set up in my name only. Mother and Megan will be arriving at Hanscom at 4 a.m. as planned. They will be very surprised when the plane leaves without them. By the time they realize what happened, I’ll be in the air with all four million dollars. Every man for himself.*
I stared at the words.
Ethan had double-crossed his own mother.
And Megan.
He’d planned all along to take everything and leave them holding the bag.
“Sarah.” I handed her the journal. “Read the last page.”
She did.
Her eyes widened.
“He left them behind.”
“At Hanscom Field. At 4 a.m. We were there waiting for all three of them. But only Victoria and Megan showed up. Ethan was never coming. He was already on his way to Panama with the money.”
Sarah was already typing on her phone.
“Flight records for last night. Private jets departing Boston between 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. Destination Panama.”
She stopped.
“Got one. Gulfstream G650. Tail number N847WT. Filed flight plan for Panama City. Departed Logan at 3:48 a.m. Not Hanscom. Logan. Different airport entirely.”
“Can they intercept it?”
“International airspace. Once it leaves US jurisdiction, there’s nothing we can do. But Panama has an extradition treaty. If we move fast, we can have authorities waiting when it lands.”
She was already on the phone with Detective Marquez.
I looked back at the safe.
The cash was still there.
Fifty thousand dollars Ethan hadn’t had time to take.
And beneath the cash, I saw something else.
A small black USB drive.
I picked it up.
Plugged it into Ethan’s computer.
It was password protected.
But Sarah was done with Marquez.
She sat down at the keyboard.
Ten minutes later, she was in.
The drive contained everything.
All the bank records.
All the transfer receipts.
All the emails between Victoria, Megan, Ethan, and my father.
Every single piece of evidence we needed.
And one more file.
Labeled Insurance.
I opened it.
It was a life insurance policy.
On my mother.
Fifty million dollars.
Taken out two years ago.
Beneficiary: The Hale Family Trust.
But the trust documents had been altered.
If my mother died, the money wouldn’t go to me or my father.
It would go to a shell company controlled by Ethan.
Fifty million dollars.
That’s what this had really been about all along.
Not the four million in hidden accounts.
That had just been the down payment.
The real prize was the insurance policy.
And if the nurse had succeeded last night, Ethan would be fifty million dollars richer today.
“He never intended to stop at four million,” I said quietly. “The drugging. The attempt last night. It was all leading to this. He was going to kill her and collect fifty million.”
Sarah closed the file.
“We have everything now, Daniel. The journal. The USB drive. The testimony from your father. From the nurse they hired. We can put Victoria and Megan away for a very long time. And when Ethan lands in Panama, they’ll arrest him and send him back.”
I nodded.
But something was wrong.
A feeling in my gut.
Ethan was smart.
Too smart.
He wouldn’t have left all this evidence behind.
Not in a safe we could crack in thirty seconds.
Not on a USB drive we could hack in ten minutes.
It was too easy.
“Sarah.”
She looked at me.
“Ethan knew we were coming. He knew his mother and Megan were caught. He knew his father—my dad—was talking. Why leave all this? Why not take it with him? Or destroy it?”
Sarah’s face fell.
“You think it’s a plant.”
“I think he wanted us to find it. I think he wanted us to believe he’s on a plane to Panama with all the money.”
“Why?”
“Because it means we stop looking for him here. We focus on extradition. On Panama. On Victoria and Megan. And while we’re doing all that, he’s still in Boston. Watching. Waiting. For the insurance money.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
I turned around.
The window behind us was floor-to-ceiling glass.
Overlooking the Public Garden.
And in the reflection, I saw movement in the hallway.
May you like
Someone was standing outside the apartment door.
Listening.
