Chapter 7
I stopped thinking like a businessman.
I stopped thinking like a suspect’s son.
I became only one thing.
Sophia’s father.
“I’m going.”
Torres blocked the door.
“No.”
“They have my daughter.”
“And walking into a trap won’t help her.”
“You saw the message.”
“I did.”
“They want the drive.”
“They want you too.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
I moved around her.
Torres grabbed my arm.
“Daniel, listen to me.”
I turned.
“If that were your daughter, would you stand here?”
Her grip loosened.
That was answer enough.
“We do this intelligently,” she said.
“They told me to come alone.”
“You will appear to.”
I looked at the Harbor drive.
“Can we give them a copy?”
“Already making one.”
“I take the copy.”
“No. You take the original.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because whoever has Sophia may check.”
“Then what protects the evidence?”
“We duplicate everything first.”
Twenty-six minutes later, I was driving toward Westbrook Hills with the original hard drive in a backpack.
My shirt contained a hidden microphone.
A GPS tracker was clipped beneath my belt.
Police vehicles stayed miles behind.
Westbrook Hills Country Club had closed almost a decade earlier.
The golf course was overgrown.
Windows were boarded.
The clubhouse stood against the evening sky like an abandoned mansion.
I parked where instructed.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Walk inside.”
The voice was distorted.
“I want to hear Sophia.”
“Inside.”
“I hear her first.”
A pause.
Then:
“Daddy!”
Her scream nearly destroyed me.
“Sophia!”
“Daddy, I’m scared!”
“I’m coming, baby.”
The line went dead.
I entered.
The lobby smelled like dust and mildew.
My footsteps echoed.
“Hello?”
A light switched on in the ballroom.
I walked toward it.
Thomas Mercer stood in the center of the room.
I stopped.
He looked exhausted.
Unshaven.
His expensive suit was wrinkled.
“You.”
He raised both hands.
“Daniel, listen.”
“Where is Sophia?”
“I don’t have her.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Same reason you are.”
I nearly hit him.
“You killed Claire.”
“No.”
“I saw the garage footage.”
“I sabotaged her car.”
The admission stopped me.
Thomas closed his eyes.
“But I didn’t kill her.”
“You cut her brake line!”
“No.”
“You were under the car.”
“I planted a tracker.”
“What?”
“A GPS tracker.”
“Why?”
“Richard told me Claire had copied Harbor documents.”
“My father.”
“Yes.”
“You were working together.”
“At first.”
“Stop saying at first.”
Thomas looked toward the dark hallway.
“We don’t have much time.”
“Where is Sophia?”
“I don’t know.”
I grabbed his jacket.
“Then you’re useless.”
“Rachel took her.”
“Rachel is in jail.”
“She has a brother.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Evan Morgan.”
“Rachel never told me she had a brother.”
“She doesn’t talk about him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s worse than she is.”
My microphone transmitted everything.
I kept Thomas talking.
“Evan took Sophia?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I received the same message you did.”
He showed me his phone.
A photograph of Sophia.
Text beneath it:
BRING RICHARD’S LEDGER.
I stared at him.
“What ledger?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
“You expect me to believe you suddenly want to help?”
Thomas laughed bitterly.
“I’ve spent sixteen months wondering when Richard would kill me too.”
“You helped him.”
“Yes.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I stole from you.”
“Yes.”
“I manipulated your affair.”
“Yes.”
“I followed Claire.”
“Yes.”
“I planted the tracker.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me why I shouldn’t kill you myself.”
“Because Claire saved my life.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“The day she died, she called me.”
Thomas’s eyes filled.
“She knew I was involved.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘Thomas, Richard will bury you too.’”
“Why would she help you?”
“Because that was Claire.”
My throat tightened.
Thomas looked ashamed.
“She told me she had sent copies of Harbor somewhere I would never find.”
“To the government?”
“Not everything.”
“What’s missing?”
“The ledger.”
“What is it?”
“Richard kept handwritten records. Bribes. Payments. Names. Dates.”
“And Claire found it.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
I thought of Dad’s call.
Claire hid something in an object belonging to Sophia.
I stared at Thomas.
“The rabbit?”
“What?”
“Sophia’s stuffed rabbit.”
“I don’t know.”
The ballroom door slammed shut behind us.
Lights turned on.
Rachel’s brother stepped from the balcony above.
I recognized him from family photographs police had shown me.
Evan Morgan.
Thirty-eight.
Former private security contractor.
Violent history.
He held Sophia against his chest.
My daughter was crying.
“Daddy!”
I stepped forward.
Evan raised a handgun.
“Stay.”
I froze.
Thomas whispered, “Evan.”
“Shut up.”
Rachel’s brother looked down at us.
“Both traitors in one room.”
“Give me my daughter,” I said.
“Give me Harbor.”
I removed the backpack slowly.
“I have it.”
“Slide it away.”
“Send Sophia down first.”
Evan laughed.
“You think this is negotiation?”
“No.”
“Then obey.”
Thomas moved slightly.
Evan pointed the gun toward him.
“You ruined everything.”
Thomas stared up.
“You cut Claire’s brake line.”
My chest tightened.
Evan smiled.
Finally.
The truth.
Thomas looked at me.
“I told you.”
Evan shrugged.
“He was too weak.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Claire wouldn’t stop.”
“So you murdered her.”
“I fixed a problem.”
Sophia whimpered.
I forced myself not to react.
“Did Richard order it?”
Evan’s smile disappeared.
“Richard ordered Claire frightened.”
Thomas said, “Not killed.”
Evan looked at him.
“Exactly.”
My mind raced.
Dad had said the same.
Handle her.
But not necessarily murder.
“Then who ordered you to kill her?”
Evan’s eyes shifted.
That tiny movement answered everything.
Rachel.
I whispered her name.
Evan smiled again.
“My sister wanted your wife gone.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
I felt sick.
“Rachel ordered Claire’s death?”
“She begged me.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas promised Daniel would choose her afterward.”
Thomas snapped, “I never promised murder!”
Evan laughed.
“No. You only built the fire.”
My fists tightened.
“You cut the brakes.”
“Yes.”
“And the truck?”
“Bad luck.”
Claire’s death had been both murder and accident.
Someone sabotaged her ability to stop.
Then an oncoming truck crossed the median.
If her brakes worked, she might have survived.
Evan lifted Sophia higher.
“Now give me the drive.”
I slid the backpack across the floor.
He sent a second man downstairs to collect it.
I hadn’t seen him in the shadows.
The man took the bag.
Checked the drive.
Then nodded.
Evan smiled.
“Good.”
“Now Sophia.”
“No.”
My blood froze.
“We had a deal.”
“You believed me?”
Thomas suddenly shouted, “Daniel, down!”
He lunged toward the armed man.
A gunshot exploded.
I threw myself behind a table.
Sophia screamed.
Police lights burst through the boarded windows.
“Police!”
Evan spun.
The second man fired toward the doors.
Officers returned fire.
Wood splintered.
I ran toward the staircase.
Evan dragged Sophia backward.
“Stop!”
I kept climbing.
He pointed the gun at me.
Sophia bit his wrist.
Evan shouted.
The gun shifted.
I slammed into him.
All three of us crashed against the upstairs railing.
I grabbed Sophia.
Evan grabbed my shirt.
The railing cracked.
For one horrifying second, the scene became my house again.
Sophia above a drop.
Someone trying to use her to destroy me.
Not again.
I drove my shoulder into Evan.
He lost balance.
An officer reached the balcony and tackled him away from us.
I collapsed onto the floor with Sophia.
She wrapped herself around me.
“Daddy!”
“I’ve got you.”
She screamed and cried against my chest.
“I’ve got you.”
Thomas lay downstairs.
Bleeding from his shoulder but alive.
Police secured the gunmen.
Torres reached us.
“Daniel!”
“We’re okay.”
She crouched beside Sophia.
“You’re safe now.”
Sophia refused to release me.
I didn’t blame her.
Evan shouted from across the balcony as officers handcuffed him.
“You still don’t have the ledger!”
Torres looked at him.
He laughed.
“Without it, Richard walks.”
I stared at him.
“Where is it?”
“You’ll never find it.”
Then Sophia lifted her head from my shoulder.
Her face was wet with tears.
She whispered:
“Mommy’s music box.”
I looked down.
“What?”
“Mommy put paper in my music box.”
Every adult in the room went silent.
“What music box?”
“The one Grandpa gave me.”
My heart stopped.
Richard.
May you like
Sophia whispered:
“Mommy told me never let Grandpa open it.”
