PART 4 — THE TRAITOR INSIDE MY OFFICE
“Because, Julia, your father didn’t make me disappear.”
A pause.
“I disappeared because someone in your office was helping Grant steal millions.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Below my apartment window, Elias Vance stood between my father and Grant beneath the yellow glow of the parking-lot light.
My mother was behind me, gripping the edge of the kitchen table.
I pressed the phone harder against my ear.
“What did you just say?”
Elias looked directly up at my window.
“You heard me.”
“Who?”
“Not over the phone.”
“That isn’t how this works.”
A humorless laugh came through the speaker.
“You think I’ve stayed hidden for eighteen months because I trust how things work?”
“I’m not coming downstairs.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Good.”
“We’re coming up.”
“No.”
I hung up.
Immediately, I called Rebecca Shaw.
Straight to voicemail.
“Rebecca, this is Julia. Something has changed. Call me immediately.”
I ended the message and called 911.
Before I pressed the final digit, my mother grabbed my wrist.
“Wait.”
I stared at her.
“Mom.”
“If Elias wanted to hurt us, he had plenty of chances.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know him.”
“You apparently knew an allegedly missing man was alive and forgot to mention it.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You just recognized him from twenty feet away.”
“Because I met him before he disappeared.”
I lowered the phone.
“Once?”
She hesitated.
“Several times.”
Of course.
Every answer uncovered another lie.
A knock sounded at my door.
Mom flinched.
Three knocks.
Then Dad’s voice.
“Julia.”
I didn’t move.
“Julia, please.”
Grant said something behind him.
Dad snapped, “Shut up.”
That alone told me the power inside their relationship had changed.
I walked to the door but didn’t open it.
“If anyone enters this apartment without my permission, I’m calling the police.”
Elias answered from the hallway.
“You should call them anyway.”
I looked at Mom.
Then back toward the door.
“Why?”
“Because by morning, somebody is going to know I’m alive.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
“It becomes yours when they learn I spoke to you.”
I hated how calmly he said it.
I opened the door with the security chain still fastened.
Dad stood closest.
Grant was behind him.
Elias stood farther down the hall.
He looked older than he had in the photograph.
Thinner.
Gray beard.
Deep lines around his mouth.
But it was unmistakably the same man.
“Grant stays outside,” I said.
“What?” my brother snapped.
“You heard me.”
“This involves me.”
“That is exactly why you stay outside.”
Dad looked at Grant.
“Do it.”
Grant laughed.
“You’re taking her side now?”
Dad turned.
“For once in your life, stop making everything about sides.”
Grant went silent.
I looked at Elias.
“You come in alone.”
Elias nodded.
Dad started to protest.
“You too, Dad. Hallway.”
“Julia.”
“No.”
His expression tightened.
Then he stepped back.
I closed the door.
Removed the chain.
Opened it again.
Elias entered.
I immediately locked the door behind him.
My mother stared at him.
“Elias.”
He looked at her.
“Margaret.”
She crossed the room and slapped him.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the apartment.
Elias barely reacted.
“You let us think you were dead.”
“I know.”
“My husband thought he was going to prison.”
Elias glanced toward the door.
“He still might.”
Mom stepped back.
I pointed to a chair.
“Sit.”
He did.
I stayed standing.
“I am not investigating this case.”
“I know.”
“I have formally disclosed my conflict.”
“I know that too.”
My skin prickled.
“How?”
“Because the person helping Grant knows everything happening inside your office.”
There it was again.
I folded my arms.
“Name.”
“No.”
“Then leave.”
His expression barely changed.
“You really are exactly like Thomas described you.”
“That doesn’t buy you another minute.”
“It wasn’t criticism.”
“Name.”
“I’ll give you evidence.”
“I didn’t ask for evidence.”
“You need it.”
“No. The appropriate investigators need it.”
“And if the investigators report to the person I’m accusing?”
I stopped.
Elias leaned forward.
“That’s the problem, Julia.”
“You’re making an extraordinary allegation.”
“I know.”
“Then make it to state police.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Seventeen months ago.”
“What happened?”
“The detective I contacted asked me to meet him near Fredericksburg.”
“And?”
“I arrived early.”
Elias looked down.
“I saw someone else arrive first.”
“Who?”
“The person I was trying to report.”
Mom covered her mouth.
I stayed quiet.
“What did you do?”
“I left.”
“And disappeared?”
“Not immediately.”
His fingers interlocked.
“I went home. Packed one bag. Withdrew cash. Left my phone on a bus heading north.”
“You expect me to believe nobody found you for eighteen months?”
“I used to do compliance work overseas.”
I remembered nothing about Elias from the case file.
Which suddenly felt important.
“What kind?”
“Financial tracing. Anti-corruption consulting. Mostly private firms.”
“So you knew how to disappear.”
“I knew enough.”
“Why return now?”
He looked toward the window.
“Because Grant started moving the money again.”
My jaw tightened.
“What money?”
Mom whispered, “Julia.”
I lifted one hand without looking at her.
Elias continued.
“Three years ago, Grant came to me with what he called a redevelopment opportunity.”
“Commerce Road.”
“Yes.”
“He needed investors. He said the building would be converted into mixed-use storage and office units.”
“Was that real?”
“At first.”
I waited.
“He raised almost four million dollars.”
Mom made a choking sound.
I stared at Elias.
“From whom?”
“Private investors. Friends of friends. Small business owners. Two retired couples. One dentist. A construction partnership.”
“And then?”
“Grant started moving portions of the money into other companies.”
“G.M. Strategic Holdings.”
“One of them.”
“How many?”
“At least eight.”
I forced myself not to ask another question.
This was becoming exactly what Rebecca had told me not to do.
I stepped away from the table.
“Stop.”
Elias frowned.
“I’m not the person you should be telling this to.”
“You’re the only person I trust.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know your reputation.”
“My reputation has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with it.”
“No. It means you think I’ll help you.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t.”
Mom stared at me.
“Julia.”
I ignored her.
“I will help you reach people who can handle this lawfully. That is all.”
Elias leaned back.
“You think rules are going to protect you from someone who has been using those rules as camouflage?”
“Yes.”
He almost smiled.
“That answer is why I came.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Because you still believe the system is worth protecting.”
“I prosecute criminals. Of course I do.”
“Good.”
He reached inside his coat.
My hand immediately went toward the kitchen counter where my phone sat.
“Slowly.”
Elias stopped.
Then removed a small black flash drive.
He placed it on the table.
Mom looked at it.
I didn’t touch it.
“What’s on that?”
“Everything I could save.”
“I told you I can’t accept evidence.”
“Then don’t.”
He pushed it toward the center of the table.
“Just make sure it reaches someone outside your chain of command.”
My stomach tightened.
“Outside my chain of command?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“Because the person helping Grant outranks you.”
Silence.
There were only a handful of people that could mean.
I didn’t let myself begin listing them.
Not mentally.
Not yet.
A violent pounding struck the door.
Grant.
“Are you kidding me? You’re just letting him tell whatever story he wants?”
Dad shouted from the hallway.
“Grant, stop.”
“He stole from me too!”
Elias closed his eyes.
I looked at him.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
That answer came instantly.
Mom stared.
“What?”
“I took money.”
“How much?”
“Eight hundred thousand.”
My stomach dropped.
Elias nodded toward the door.
“Grant calls it stealing because the money was in an account he controlled.”
“Was it his?”
“No.”
“Whose was it?”
“Investor funds.”
I stared at him.
“You stole investor money.”
“I moved it.”
“Without authorization?”
“Yes.”
“That is stealing.”
“I moved it to keep Grant from transferring it offshore.”
“Where is it?”
“In escrow.”
“Whose?”
“An attorney in Maryland.”
“Name?”
“I’ll provide it to investigators.”
I exhaled slowly.
“So everybody involved thinks they’re the hero.”
Elias actually smiled.
“That’s usually how these stories work.”
Another knock came.
This one gentle.
Dad.
“Julia.”
I opened the door but blocked the entrance.
“What?”
Dad looked exhausted.
“Grant left.”
I glanced down the hallway.
Empty.
“What do you mean left?”
“He went downstairs.”
“When?”
“Two minutes ago.”
My phone buzzed.
Grant.
A text.
YOU WANT THE TRUTH? COME TO DAD’S HOUSE.
I stared at it.
Another message.
ASK MOM WHAT SHE PUT IN THE SAFE.
I turned slowly toward my mother.
Her face told me she had read it over my shoulder.
“What safe?”
She looked away.
“Mom.”
Dad stepped into the doorway.
“What is he talking about?”
She remained silent.
Dad’s expression changed.
“Margaret.”
“There were papers.”
“What papers?”
She backed toward the table.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
Dad entered despite my earlier rule.
For once, I didn’t stop him.
“What papers?”
“Things Grant gave me.”
Dad went white.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What things?”
Mom began crying.
“He said if anything happened to him, I should keep them.”
Elias stood.
“What kind of papers?”
She looked at him.
“Account numbers.”
Dad cursed.
“Margaret.”
“And copies of signatures.”
Dad stared at her.
“What signatures?”
“Yours.”
The apartment went silent.
My father’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Mom looked at me.
“And Julia’s.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
“I didn’t understand.”
“Say that again.”
“There were documents with your signature.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I saw your name.”
“My name or my signature?”
She hesitated.
“Your signature.”
Dad sank into a chair.
Elias looked at me sharply.
“Were you ever an authorized signer for any of Grant’s companies?”
“No.”
“Did you ever notarize anything for him?”
“No.”
“Loan documents?”
“No.”
“Corporate resolutions?”
“No.”
“Anything?”
“No.”
My voice rose.
“I have never signed a single business document for my brother.”
Elias nodded once.
“Then someone forged you.”
The words landed hard.
Mom sat beside Dad.
“I told Grant the signature didn’t look right.”
I stared at her.
“And you kept that to yourself?”
“He said it was an electronic copy.”
“For a year?”
She cried harder.
“I believed him.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You chose to believe him.”
Mom flinched.
My phone rang.
Rebecca.
I answered immediately.
“Rebecca.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Alone?”
I looked around the room.
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Who is there?”
“My parents.”
I hesitated.
“And a man named Elias Vance.”
Silence.
Then a sound like a chair moving.
“Julia, repeat that name.”
“Elias Vance.”
“Get out of the apartment.”
My pulse jumped.
“What?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
“Do not ask questions. Leave.”
I looked at Elias.
He watched my face.
“Rebecca, what is happening?”
She lowered her voice.
“Elias Vance is listed in the Redding supplemental file.”
“I know he was a business partner.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“He was a confidential informant.”
I stared at him.
Elias’s expression didn’t change.
Rebecca continued.
“He was cooperating with us before he disappeared.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“With whom?”
“That’s why I’m telling you to leave.”
“Rebecca.”
“Julia, our internal access logs were reviewed tonight.”
My heart began pounding.
“Why?”
“Because after you disclosed your conflict, ethics checked who had accessed financial records connected to G.M. Strategic.”
I looked at Elias.
“And?”
“There were unauthorized accesses.”
“How many?”
“Several.”
“By whom?”
“I can’t discuss it over the phone.”
“You called me.”
“To get you out of that apartment.”
“Rebecca, tell me whether Elias is dangerous.”
“We don’t know.”
Elias laughed quietly from across the room.
Rebecca heard it.
“Is he listening?”
“Yes.”
“Leave.”
I grabbed my keys.
“Mom, Dad. We’re going.”
Dad stood.
Mom looked confused.
“Where?”
“Anywhere public.”
Elias didn’t move.
I pointed at him.
“You stay.”
He shook his head.
“That would be a mistake.”
“You don’t get a vote.”
“What did Rebecca tell you?”
I stared.
“How do you know who called?”
For the first time, he looked caught.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
My skin went cold.
“Elias.”
He stood slowly.
“You said her name when you answered.”
No.
I hadn’t.
I replayed it in my head.
Rebecca.
I had said Rebecca.
Maybe he was telling the truth.
Maybe.
My phone vibrated.
Another text from Grant.
I’M AT THE HOUSE.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHO USED YOUR SIGNATURE.
Then a photograph.
A document sitting on my father’s dining-room table.
Even through the phone screen, I recognized my own name.
Julia Anne Mercer.
Below it was a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
The document authorized transfer of $1.8 million.
My stomach turned.
Dad saw it.
“Oh my God.”
Elias walked closer.
“Let me see.”
I turned the screen away.
“No.”
Another message appeared.
Grant:
YOU THINK I DID THIS.
I DIDN’T.
Then:
THE PERSON WHO FORGED YOU IS COMING HERE.
Rebecca’s voice came through the phone.
“Julia?”
I lifted it back to my ear.
“I’m here.”
“Police are on the way to your building.”
Elias cursed.
Dad looked at him.
“You said we should call them.”
“I said she should.”
“What’s the difference?”
Elias moved toward the window.
A moment later, red and blue light flickered against the opposite building.
He swore again.
Then he grabbed the flash drive from the table.
I stepped between him and the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t be here.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody will know.”
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“The same person who knew I was cooperating eighteen months ago.”
Sirens grew louder.
Mom began crying.
Dad stood beside her.
I said, “You’re staying.”
Elias’s eyes shifted toward the hallway.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“If they take me into custody through normal channels, I may not make it through the night.”
Dad stared.
“Who exactly are you afraid of?”
Elias looked at me.
“Ask your boss.”
I froze.
“Rebecca?”
He said nothing.
The apartment suddenly felt too small.
I lifted the phone.
“Rebecca, Elias just told me to ask you who he’s afraid of.”
Silence.
Then Rebecca said something I didn’t expect.
“Put him on.”
I held out the phone.
Elias stared at it.
“No.”
“She wants to speak to you.”
“No.”
“Why?”
His face tightened.
“Because Rebecca Shaw is the prosecutor I was supposed to meet eighteen months ago.”
I stopped breathing.
Rebecca’s voice crackled faintly through the phone.
“Julia?”
I stared at Elias.
“You were her informant?”
“Yes.”
“And you disappeared before meeting her?”
“Yes.”
“Because you believed someone inside the office compromised you?”
“Yes.”
“Was it Rebecca?”
He didn’t answer.
That answer terrified me.
Police lights filled the room.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
A firm knock struck my door.
“Richmond Police.”
I looked through the peephole.
Two uniformed officers.
I unlocked the door.
One of them immediately looked past me.
“Ms. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“We received a request to ensure your safety.”
“From the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Elias stepped backward.
The officer noticed him.
“Sir, can I see some identification?”
Elias raised his hands.
“I don’t have any on me.”
The second officer moved inside.
“What’s your name?”
Elias looked at me.
Then at Dad.
Then toward the window.
“Elias Vance.”
Both officers changed.
It was subtle.
But unmistakable.
The first officer touched his radio.
“Dispatch, confirm possible match.”
Elias whispered, “This is exactly what I was afraid of.”
“Match for what?” I asked.
The officer ignored me.
His radio crackled.
Then came the words.
“Confirmed. Subject Elias Vance. Active material-witness hold.”
Elias closed his eyes.
The officers moved toward him.
“Mr. Vance, turn around.”
“I’m not resisting.”
“Hands behind your back.”
Mom gasped.
I stepped forward.
“Why is he being detained?”
“Ma’am, step back.”
“I’m an assistant district attorney.”
The officer looked at me.
“Then you know we can’t debate an active order in your living room.”
Fair enough.
Elias held his wrists behind him.
Before they cuffed him, he looked at me.
“Julia.”
I didn’t answer.
“Do not let them take that drive.”
I looked at the table.
Empty.
My heart jumped.
The flash drive was gone.
I scanned the floor.
Nothing.
Elias smiled faintly.
Then I realized he had slipped it into my coat pocket when he moved past me earlier.
I felt its tiny weight against my hip.
One officer led him toward the door.
The other stayed with us.
Then Elias twisted his head toward me.
“Your brother doesn’t know the whole truth.”
“About what?”
“The forged documents.”
“Who forged them?”
The officer pulled him forward.
Elias raised his voice.
“Julia, look at the dates.”
“What dates?”
“Your court dates.”
My blood went cold.
“What are you talking about?”
“Every transfer using your signature happened while you were in court.”
Then he disappeared into the hallway.
I stood motionless.
Dad stared at me.
Mom whispered, “Why would that matter?”
I already knew.
Because my court appearances were public.
Someone could verify exactly where I was.
Someone had deliberately chosen times when I could later prove I was nowhere near the transactions.
That wasn’t careless forgery.
It was calculated.
Someone had wanted my name on the documents without actually putting me at risk of conviction if the scheme collapsed.
Someone was using me as both camouflage and insurance.
My phone buzzed.
Grant again.
COME NOW.
I looked at Dad.
“Give me the address to your house safe.”
Mom whispered, “Julia.”
“Combination.”
Dad stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the documents before Grant destroys them.”
“You cannot go there.”
“He says someone is coming.”
“Then call police.”
“I will.”
I dialed Rebecca again.
No answer.
That bothered me.
The officer still inside my apartment was speaking into his radio.
I approached him.
“My brother may be at my parents’ home with documents related to an active fraud investigation.”
He immediately became attentive.
“Address?”
Dad gave it.
The officer relayed it.
Then dispatch responded.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Units are already being sent there.”
“Why?”
He hesitated.
“A 911 call.”
My stomach dropped.
“From Grant?”
“Unknown caller.”
“What was reported?”
The officer stared at me.
“Possible gunshot.”
Mom screamed.
Dad grabbed the back of a chair.
I was already moving.
The officer blocked the door.
“Ma’am.”
“That’s my brother.”
“You cannot go.”
“Move.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
He didn’t.
And he was right not to.
Dad took out his phone and called Grant.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Mom sobbed.
“He’s been shot.”
“We don’t know that.”
“He’s been shot.”
“We do not know that.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered immediately.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Then breathing.
“Grant?”
Silence.
A man finally spoke.
Not Grant.
“Ms. Mercer.”
My entire body tightened.
“Who is this?”
“You need to stop asking questions.”
I looked at the officer and pointed to my phone.
He moved closer.
“Who is this?”
The man continued.
“Your brother had the same problem.”
“What did you do to him?”
“You prosecutors always ask questions you already know the answer to.”
The voice sounded familiar.
Not personally familiar.
Professionally familiar.
I had heard it before.
In a hallway.
A courtroom.
A staff meeting.
Somewhere.
“Where is Grant?”
“You should be more worried about the documents.”
The call ended.
I immediately handed my phone to the officer.
“Trace whatever you can.”
He nodded.
My mind raced.
The voice.
Where had I heard it?
Then my mother whispered behind me.
“Julia.”
I turned.
She had opened the brown envelope.
Inside were photocopies.
Bank records.
Corporate filings.
Wire instructions.
She lifted one page.
“I found this months ago.”
I took it before remembering I shouldn’t.
At the top was a transfer authorization.
G.M. Strategic Holdings.
Amount: $640,000.
Authorized by: Grant Mercer.
Approved by: Julia Mercer.
My forged signature appeared at the bottom.
Then I saw the witness line.
A third signature.
The name beneath it made my knees weak.
Rebecca Shaw.
I stared at it.
“No.”
Dad stepped closer.
“What?”
I handed him the page.
He didn’t know the name.
Mom did.
“She’s your boss.”
I pulled my phone out.
Opened my contacts.
Rebecca Shaw.
I hit call.
It rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then someone answered.
But no one spoke.
“Rebecca?”
Silence.
“Rebecca, are you there?”
A faint noise came through.
Then a voice.
The same male voice from the anonymous call.
“Julia.”
I stopped breathing.
He had Rebecca’s phone.
“Who are you?”
A soft laugh.
“You really don’t recognize me?”
I searched my memory.
Courtrooms.
Investigators.
Defense lawyers.
Supervisors.
Police.
Then he said one sentence.
“You were right about the contradiction in my witness three weeks ago.”
Everything inside me stopped.
The Redding hearing.
Judge Parker’s courtroom.
The defense attorney who had spent an hour trying to bury me in procedural objections.
I remembered his face.
I remembered his voice.
Daniel Cross.
One of the most respected criminal defense attorneys in Richmond.
And Miles Redding’s lawyer.
“You,” I whispered.
“Finally.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where is Rebecca?”
“Safe for now.”
“Where is Grant?”
A pause.
“Less safe.”
“What do you want?”
“The drive Elias gave you.”
I said nothing.
Daniel laughed.
“I know you have it.”
The officer beside me was already signaling for another unit.
Daniel continued.
“Bring it to your father’s house.”
“No.”
“Then your brother dies.”
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad went white.
I kept my voice steady.
“You expect a prosecutor to walk into a crime scene carrying evidence because you threatened her brother?”
“No.”
He paused.
“I expect a sister to.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Dad whispered, “Give him the drive.”
I looked at him.
“Thomas,” Mom said.
“Give it to him.”
“Dad.”
“I don’t care what’s on it.”
He grabbed my arms.
“That’s my son.”
“And walking into that house could give him two victims.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
He stared at me.
For once, there was no anger in his face.
Just terror.
“Please save your brother.”
I looked at the police officer.
Then at the forged document bearing Rebecca’s name.
Then at the tiny black flash drive hidden inside my coat.
And suddenly I understood something Daniel had not planned for.
He thought I had to choose.
My brother or the evidence.
Family or duty.
Love or law.
It was the same false choice my parents had forced on me my entire life.
Protect Grant or betray the family.
Stay silent or ruin everything.
Make myself smaller so someone else could escape consequences.
I reached into my pocket.
Pulled out the flash drive.
And placed it in the officer’s hand.
“My supervisor may be compromised.”
His expression changed.
“This contains evidence related to an ongoing corruption and fraud investigation. I am formally surrendering it to law enforcement.”
Dad stared at me.
“What are you doing?”
I looked at him.
“Saving Grant without protecting the people who put him there.”
The officer immediately sealed the drive inside an evidence bag.
Then his radio exploded with traffic.
Units arriving at my parents’ house.
Front door open.
Blood located in foyer.
No victim.
Mom collapsed into a chair.
Dad grabbed the officer.
“Where is my son?”
“Sir, let go.”
“Where is he?”
More radio traffic.
Vehicle leaving rear alley.
Possible suspect.
Then another transmission.
“Hold traffic. We have one male located in basement.”
Dad froze.
Mom stopped breathing.
The officer listened.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Condition?” I demanded.
He held up one hand.
The radio crackled again.
“Male is conscious.”
Mom sobbed.
Dad nearly fell against the wall.
Then came the next sentence.
“Victim identifies as Grant Mercer.”
I closed my eyes.
Alive.
Grant was alive.
The relief lasted less than two seconds.
The radio continued.
“Victim reports second hostage was removed from location approximately ten minutes ago.”
I opened my eyes.
“Second hostage?”
The officer repeated the question into his radio.
A response came back.
Female.
Approximate age fifties.
The officer looked at me.
“Do you know anyone who might have been with your brother?”
I already knew.
I lifted my phone.
Rebecca’s unanswered calls filled the screen.
“She’s sixty-one,” I said.
“Rebecca Shaw.”
The officer relayed the name.
A few seconds later, confirmation came.
Grant had identified the woman.
Rebecca Shaw.
Taken at gunpoint.
Dad whispered, “Who took her?”
My phone vibrated.
A video message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
Rebecca appeared on the screen.
Her hands were tied.
Blood ran from a cut above her eyebrow.
Behind her stood Daniel Cross.
He leaned toward the camera.
Then smiled.
“You gave the drive to police.”
I felt cold.
“So now we stop negotiating.”
The camera shifted.
They were inside a warehouse.
I recognized the faded wall.
The steel columns.
The loading doors.
Commerce Road.
Daniel turned the camera back toward himself.
“Midnight, Julia.”
Then he placed a pistol against Rebecca’s shoulder.
“Come alone.”
The video ended.
Immediately another file arrived.
A photograph.
A second person tied to a chair deeper inside the warehouse.
I zoomed in.
Elias Vance.
The man police had taken from my apartment less than fifteen minutes earlier.
My mouth went dry.
The officer beside me stared at the screen.
“That’s impossible.”
He grabbed his radio.
“Confirm transport status on Vance.”
Static.
Then:
Transport unit not responding.
The room went silent.
The officer slowly looked at me.
Somebody had intercepted Elias between my apartment and wherever police were taking him.
Which meant Daniel didn’t just have access to prosecutors.
He had access to law enforcement.
My phone vibrated one final time.
A text from Daniel.
NOW YOU UNDERSTAND.
Then another.
THIS WAS NEVER JUST YOUR BROTHER’S FRAUD.
And beneath it, a list of names.
Judges.
Police commanders.
Attorneys.
Business owners.
Public officials.
More than twenty people.
I stared at the screen.
At the very bottom was one final name.
Nathaniel Parker.
Judge Parker.
The man who had recognized me at dinner.
The man who had praised me.
The man whose daughter had nearly married Grant.
I read the name again.
And suddenly I didn’t know whether Judge Parker had accidentally walked into our family disaster that evening…
Or whether the entire dinner had been arranged because he was already part of it……………..
TO BE CONTINUED IN LAST PART…
