Chapter 6 - The Witness Who Would Not Die
They reached Gideon’s facility to find two patrol cars outside and a nurse crying beside the reception desk. The room smelled of antiseptic and burnt coffee. A window in the rear hallway had been shattered, but the security system showed no forced entry.
“He’s gone,” the nurse said.
“The cameras were disabled for eleven minutes.” Mara felt the familiar cold spread through her chest.
“Did you see who took him?” “A man in a maintenance uniform. He had an identification badge, but it looked wrong.” Rhea examined the hallway.
“Was anyone expecting maintenance?” The nurse shook her head.
“No.” Nia arrived with a detective named Omar Price, who asked careful questions and did not treat Mara like a hysterical wife. Gideon’s room was untouched except for the bedside drawer, which had been opened.
His medication remained in place. A single piece of paper lay on the pillow. Mara recognized Gideon’s handwriting. Do not trust the woman who claims she saved me.
“That doesn’t sound like my father,” she said. Omar took the paper with gloved fingers.
“It may not be his.” Rhea stood at the window.
“Who knew he had the folder?” “Solomon, Jennifer, Charlotte,” Mara said.
“And now whoever took him.” “Your father may have told someone else.” Mara thought of the past six months. Gideon had become guarded after his stroke.
He had asked about the house, the cameras, and whether Solomon still handled the bills. She had assumed he was confused. The mistake hurt almost as much as the betrayal. By dawn, police had located Gideon’s wheelchair near a closed bus depot.
He was not inside. On the seat lay a silver cuff link bearing the initials C. R. Caleb Roane.
The name moved through the investigators like an electric current. Roane had supposedly died in Mexico three years earlier after fleeing charges. No official death certificate had ever been verified.
“If he’s alive,” Nia said, “he could be behind all of this.” Mara looked at the cuff link.
“Then why would Jennifer tell me to come to Briar House?” “Because she may be working for him,” Rhea said. At eight in the morning, Jennifer called from a blocked number.
Mara answered on speaker.
“You shouldn’t have gone to the facility,” Jennifer said.
“Where is my father?” “Alive.” “Put him on.” “I can’t.” “Then tell me why you were in my house.” Jennifer’s breathing trembled.
“Solomon told me there was money in the property. He said your father owed him.
I believed him at first.” “You believed he owned my house?” “I believed what he showed me.” “And the affair?” There was a painful pause.
“That was real.” Mara looked away. She had expected denial, not honesty.
The truth could be more brutal than a lie because it refused to give her anything to fight.
“Did you love him?” Mara asked.
“No,” Jennifer said.
“I loved what I thought he could help me recover.” “The missing client money.” “The money was not missing. It was being moved through Northbridge.
Solomon knew. He helped hide the transfers because Caleb Roane threatened his mother.” Mara glanced at Nia.
“What does Charlotte have to do with Roane?” Jennifer’s voice dropped.
“She was there the night Victor died.” The room went still.
“Charlotte saw who pushed him into the river,” Jennifer continued.
“She kept quiet because Roane had proof that Victor and Gideon had accepted illegal money. She thought silence would protect Solomon.” “Did it?” “No.
It made Solomon useful to Roane.” Mara gripped the phone.
“What does Roane want now?” “The original ledger and the recording. Gideon hid them in the house.
Solomon found the camera system and used it to search whenever you were gone.” “Where is the folder?” “I have it.” “Why should I believe you?” Jennifer’s voice broke.
“Because if I were working for Roane, you would already be dead.” The line went silent. Mara checked the call log.
The number disappeared from the screen a second later, replaced by a text. Come to the old boathouse at noon. Bring no one. If you bring police, Gideon dies.
Nia shook her head.
“You are not going alone.” “She asked for me.” “She asked for the woman who owns the evidence,” Rhea said.
“There is a difference.” Omar folded his arms.
“We can set surveillance, but we need your cooperation.
If Gideon is alive, a careless arrest could get him hurt.” Mara stared at the photograph of her father on the missing-person alert. He had spent years protecting her from a truth he believed would destroy her. Now everyone around her was using that truth as a weapon.
She agreed to the operation. At noon, she drove to the old boathouse with a tracking device hidden beneath her coat. The river rolled gray beneath a sky the color of steel. Inside the building, ropes hung from beams, and water tapped against the pilings.
Jennifer stepped from behind a stack of crates, holding the blue folder.
“Where is my father?” Mara asked. Jennifer looked past her toward the road.
“He was here.” “Was?” “Someone followed me.” A slow clap echoed from the loft above them. Solomon stepped into view.
He held a gun in one hand and Gideon’s recording device in the other.
May you like
“I’m sorry, Mara,” he said.
“But this is the only way to make you listen.”
