Chapter 12: Midnight
My mother refused to leave me.
"No.""
"Mom.""
"No, Sarah.""
Special Agent Mercer had arranged a protected location for her.
She stood in the federal office hallway with her arms crossed, looking exactly like she had when I was sixteen and tried to sneak out after curfew.
"I'm not leaving you alone.""
"You're not leaving me. You're going somewhere safe.""
"And where are you going?""
I hesitated.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Exactly.""
I took her hands.
"Mom, whoever is doing this has been watching us.""
"Then we stay together.""
"That's what they want.""
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then her expression softened.
"You sound like your father.""
That hurt more than I expected.
"I barely remember his voice.""
"You have his stubbornness.""
Reed, standing several feet away, said, "That's definitely true.""
I gave him a look.
Mom almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Mercer approached.
"Mrs. Miller, transport is ready.""
She hugged me tightly.
"Come back.""
"I will.""
"That's not a casual promise.""
I swallowed.
"I know.""
After she left, Mercer gathered Brooks, Reed, Nolan, and me.
"We have less than four hours until midnight.""
Brooks pointed toward the threat photograph.
"They expect Sarah to do something.""
"Or deliver something," Mercer said.
"The money," Reed replied.
I shook my head.
"I don't know where it is.""
Mercer looked at me.
"But your father may have told you.""
"I was fourteen.""
"Maybe not directly.""
That made me think.
Dad had loved puzzles.
Every birthday, he hid my presents and gave me clues.
Ridiculous clues.
Riddles taped under cereal boxes.
Numbers hidden inside books.
One memory surfaced.
My fourteenth birthday.
Two months before he died.
He'd given me a wooden music box.
"Every Miller needs somewhere safe for treasure," he'd said.
I stood so fast my chair fell backward.
"My music box.""
Reed looked at me.
"What about it?""
"It's at Mom's house.""
Mercer called her protection team immediately.
The box was retrieved.
Thirty minutes later, it sat on the table.
Old walnut.
Brass hinges.
A tiny ballerina inside.
I hadn't opened it in years.
I turned the key.
The melody began.
Nothing.
Reed examined the bottom.
"Sarah.""
One felt pad was thicker than the others.
We peeled it back.
A tiny strip of paper had been hidden underneath.
Three groups of numbers.
Mercer photographed them.
Nolan searched financial databases.
"No direct match.""
Brooks looked at me.
"Could be another code.""
I stared at the numbers.
Then remembered Dad's favorite birthday game.
Bookshelf coordinates.
First number: book.
Second: page.
Third: line.
But there were only three groups.
I looked at Mom's box of Dad's possessions sitting nearby.
She'd brought it from home.
Inside were old photographs, letters, and one battered novel.
The Count of Monte Cristo.
Dad's favorite book.
I almost laughed.
"Of course.""
I opened it.
Page 117.
Line 4.
A sentence about waiting.
Page 83.
Line 9.
A word.
Bank.
The final coordinates produced:
NORTHSTAR.
Nolan typed it into his search.
"Northstar Financial Trust.""
Mercer leaned closer.
"Private asset management.""
The account existed.
Created fourteen years ago.
The balance wasn't three million.
It was $2.86 million.
Untouched.
Reed whispered, "That's what they're after.""
I stared at the number.
"Whose name?""
Nolan hesitated.
"Yours.""
I felt sick.
My father had put stolen money in my name.
Mercer immediately corrected the thought.
"Tracing funds doesn't make them yours legally. Don't touch anything.""
"I wasn't planning to.""
Brooks asked, "Can we use the account?""
Mercer understood.
"As bait.""
We didn't need to wait long.
At 10:41 p.m., an email arrived through the address associated with the account.
One sentence.
TRANSFER THE BALANCE OR YOUR MOTHER DOESN'T SEE MORNING.
My blood turned cold.
"She's protected.""
Mercer was already calling the team.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
"What happened?""
He hung up.
"The transport vehicle was found abandoned.""
I stood.
"No.""
"Sarah—"
"Where is my mother?""
"We don't know.""
My knees nearly gave out.
Reed caught me.
I shoved his hand away.
"This is because of me.""
"No," Brooks said.
"It's because of them.""
Nolan suddenly spoke.
"Wait.""
He was staring at the account.
"What?""
"There's a transfer authorization pending.""
Mercer moved beside him.
"From where?""
"The Northstar account.""
"I didn't authorize anything," I said.
Nolan's fingers moved quickly.
"Someone accessed it twenty minutes ago.""
"Can they transfer the money?""
"No. The account requires two-factor physical verification.""
"Meaning?""
Nolan looked at me.
"They need you.""
A video call appeared on the laptop.
Unknown source.
Mercer nodded.
"Answer.""
I did.
Victor Hale appeared.
His face was bruised.
His expensive suit was gone.
He looked exhausted.
But he was smiling.
"Hello, Sarah.""
"Where is my mother?""
"Safe.""
"Let me see her.""
Victor's smile faded.
"You're still making demands.""
"Let me see her.""
The camera shifted.
My mother sat in a chair inside what looked like an empty office.
She was frightened.
But alive.
"Sarah, don't—"
The camera moved away.
Victor returned.
"Midnight. North loading dock.""
"Why should I trust you?""
"You shouldn't.""
"Then give me something.""
He studied me.
"Fine.""
He leaned closer.
"Your father didn't die because of the money.""
My chest tightened.
"Then why?""
"Because he discovered who Margaret Price was protecting.""
"Cross?""
Victor smiled.
"No.""
Behind him, a door opened.
Someone entered the room.
Victor immediately stood straighter.
Nervous.
Submissive.
The newcomer remained outside the camera frame.
Then a woman's voice spoke.
Older.
Calm.
"Enough, Victor.""
I recognized it from my father's cassette.
Margaret Price.
Victor moved aside.
An elderly woman stepped into view.
She looked directly into the camera.
Directly at me.
And smiled.
"You have your father's eyes, Sarah.""
My hands curled into fists.
"Give me my mother.""
"Bring me what James stole.""
"The money?""
Margaret laughed.
A quiet, chilling laugh.
"Oh, sweetheart.""
She leaned toward the camera.
"I don't care about the money.""
I froze.
"Then what do you want?""
Her smile disappeared.
"The list.""
"What list?""
Margaret stared at me.
"The one containing every name your father uncovered.""
My mind raced.
Cross.
Hale.
Price.
Maybe dozens more.
"I don't have it.""
Margaret's expression didn't change.
"Yes, Sarah.""
She glanced toward my mother.
"You do.""
The screen went black.
And suddenly I understood the terrible truth.
The $2.86 million wasn't my father's most dangerous secret.
May you like
It was only the lock.
Somewhere inside that account was the key to exposing everyone.
