Chapter 8
Darkness swallowed the building.
Someone screamed.
Gunfire cracked above us.
Dad threw himself over Sophie and me.
“Down!”
Police shouted commands.
Flashlights cut through the black.
I heard metal footsteps racing across the catwalk.
Then a crash.
A side door slammed.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Thomas was lying on the upper walkway.
Alone.
Elaine was gone.
Officers raced toward him.
Another team pursued her through the rear corridor.
Dad stood.
“Stay here.”
He ran toward the stairs.
I followed.
“Emily!”
I ignored him.
Thomas was conscious but weak.
A paramedic pressed gauze against his shoulder.
Dad dropped beside him.
“Where is Elaine?”
Thomas grimaced.
“Tunnel.”
“What?”
“Old service tunnel. Connects to the warehouse next door.”
Officers immediately moved.
I knelt on Thomas’s other side.
“Is Grandpa alive?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Tom.”
Dad grabbed his arm.
“Is he alive?”
Thomas nodded.
Dad stumbled backward.
I felt nothing.
No shock.
No anger.
Just emptiness.
My grandfather had died when I was seventeen.
At least that was what I believed.
I remembered his funeral.
Hundreds of people.
The closed casket.
Dad delivering the eulogy.
Me holding Thomas’s hand.
“Who did we bury?”
Thomas whispered, “A body.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Arthur had cancer.”
Dad shook his head.
“No. He died of a stroke.”
“He had pancreatic cancer too.”
“You’re lying.”
“He was given less than a year.”
Thomas coughed.
The paramedic told him not to speak.
He ignored him.
“Arthur didn’t want to die powerless. He had offshore money. Contacts. He staged the stroke after a real hospitalization.”
Dad looked horrified.
“You helped him.”
Thomas began crying.
“Yes.”
Dad stepped back as if Thomas had struck him.
“You helped him fake his death?”
“I was scared.”
“You were forty-two!”
“I was still scared of him!”
Dad’s face twisted.
I had never understood the relationship between my father and grandfather.
Arthur Bennett had always been charming with me.
Presents.
Trips.
Stories.
But Dad became different around him.
Quieter.
More careful.
Mom once called Grandpa “a man who thinks love is ownership.”
At eleven, I hadn’t understood.
Now I did.
Thomas continued.
“Arthur believed federal investigators were closing in on the old vendor network. He wanted out before they connected everything.”
“Margaret already had,” Dad said.
Thomas nodded.
“She found too much.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did Grandpa order Dad’s car sabotaged?”
Thomas’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
Dad turned away.
I put my hand over my mouth.
Thomas whispered, “He thought Daniel had copies of Margaret’s files.”
Dad’s voice broke.
“And Margaret died instead.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Not until afterward.”
“You knew afterward and said nothing.”
Thomas started crying harder.
“I was terrified.”
Dad grabbed Thomas’s hospital coat.
“You let me bury my wife while our father walked away!”
Police pulled Dad back.
“Sir.”
Dad struggled once.
Then stopped.
His entire body shook.
I had never seen him cry openly.
Not even at Mom’s funeral.
Now tears ran down his face.
“You knew.”
Thomas looked destroyed.
“I’m sorry.”
“You watched Emily grow up without her mother.”
“I know.”
“You came to birthdays.”
“I know.”
“You sat at my table.”
“I know.”
Dad turned away.
I wanted to hate Thomas.
Part of me did.
But there was more.
There was always more.
“Why help Caldwell now?” I asked.
Thomas wiped his face.
“Because Arthur came back.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Dad slowly faced him.
“What?”
“He contacted me through Elaine.”
Dad’s expression turned murderous.
“He wanted Bennett Hospitality?”
“He said Caldwell was getting too close to old accounts. Richard knew pieces of the original laundering network. Arthur wanted to control the merger before Richard found everything.”
“So you sabotaged the company for him.”
Thomas nodded weakly.
“At first.”
“At first?”
“I started realizing he intended to destroy Daniel.”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“That surprises you?”
“I thought he wanted control.”
“He always wanted control.”
Thomas looked at me.
“Then Arthur asked me to get information about Emily.”
My skin crawled.
“What information?”
“Where you lived. Who you spent time with. Whether you were dating anyone. Your schedule.”
Dad lunged again.
“You gave him that?”
“No!”
Thomas flinched.
“I refused.”
“Why should we believe you?”
“Because that’s when I started feeding Martin information.”
Martin.
I looked toward him.
He had been brought into the facility with detectives after the raid.
He nodded.
“Thomas contacted me six months ago.”
Dad stared at both of them.
“So everyone knew except me.”
Martin’s expression softened.
“You wouldn’t have believed us without proof.”
“Try me.”
“You didn’t believe Margaret.”
That destroyed whatever response Dad had.
Silence.
I saw it in his eyes.
A memory.
Mom bringing him suspicions.
Dad telling her not to jump to conclusions.
Maybe that was the real wound he carried.
Not simply that she died.
That she had warned him.
And he had asked her to wait.
One detective approached.
“No sign of Elaine. Tunnel exits into two adjacent structures and an alley. We’re locking the area down.”
Dad looked at Thomas.
“Where would she go?”
“To Arthur.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that!”
“I don’t!”
Thomas struggled to sit.
“He moves constantly. Private homes. Corporate apartments. Sometimes overseas.”
I stared.
“You’ve seen him?”
“Twice.”
“What does he look like?”
“Older. Thin. But it’s him.”
“How can a man like Arthur Bennett hide for seven years?”
Thomas gave a weak laugh.
“Money.”
Martin added, “And because nobody searches for dead people.”
That sentence chilled me.
Sophie grabbed my hand.
I had almost forgotten she was beside me.
She looked exhausted.
Bruises circled her wrists.
I hugged her.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t.”
“This happened because—”
“If you say because of you, I’ll slap you.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then she whispered, “They kept talking about tomorrow.”
I pulled back.
“What?”
“The men holding me. They said everything had to be finished before tomorrow afternoon.”
“Finished how?”
“I don’t know.”
“One kept saying ‘board vote.’”
Dad heard.
His face changed.
“What board vote?”
Laura, who had just entered, looked at him.
“There isn’t one scheduled.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Yes, there is.”
Everyone turned.
He looked at Dad.
“Emergency board meeting. Tomorrow at noon.”
“Who called it?”
“I did.”
Dad stared.
“Why?”
“Arthur ordered me to.”
Laura’s face hardened.
“What is the agenda?”
Thomas whispered, “Removal of Daniel Bennett as chairman and CEO.”
Dad almost laughed.
“On what grounds?”
“Financial misconduct.”
Laura shook her head.
“There is no basis.”
Thomas looked at Dad.
“There will be.”
“What does that mean?”
“Arthur has financial records.”
“Fake ones?”
“Some.”
Dad frowned.
“Some?”
Thomas looked terrified.
“Daniel, you need to tell them.”
Dad went still.
“Tell us what?” I asked.
He said nothing.
I stepped toward him.
“Dad.”
Laura’s expression changed.
“You do have undisclosed liabilities.”
Dad looked at her.
Then at me.
He seemed suddenly tired.
“Yes.”
My stomach sank.
“What?”
He sat on an old wooden crate.
“After your mother died, I started buying out the minority investors.”
“I know.”
“What you don’t know is how I financed it.”
Laura crossed her arms.
“Off-book guarantees?”
Dad nodded.
“I pledged personal assets and future distributions.”
“That isn’t illegal.”
“No.”
Thomas whispered, “Tell them about the foundation.”
Dad closed his eyes.
My heart pounded.
“What foundation?”
“The Margaret Bennett Foundation.”
My mother’s charity.
I had attended its gala every year.
Dad spoke carefully.
“During the financial crisis, the company was in serious trouble. Credit froze. Hotels were underwater.”
“When?”
“2009.”
I was seven.
“What did you do?”
“I borrowed money from a trust associated with the foundation.”
Laura’s eyes widened.
“Daniel.”
“I paid it back.”
“That is not the point.”
“It was restored within eleven months with interest.”
“Was the board informed?”
“No.”
“Was the foundation board?”
Dad said nothing.
Laura cursed under her breath.
“That can be characterized as self-dealing.”
“I know.”
“And if Arthur has the records—”
“He can make it look like embezzlement.”
Thomas nodded.
“Exactly.”
I stared at Dad.
“You took money from Mom’s charity?”
“To save the company she helped build.”
“Without permission.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?”
“Because I was ashamed.”
I laughed bitterly.
Tonight everybody had secrets.
Nobody had enough courage to tell the truth until a gun was pointed at someone.
Dad looked at me.
“I never stole a dollar. Every cent was returned.”
“But you hid it.”
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow they’re going to use that to remove you.”
“Yes.”
Laura was already thinking ahead.
“We disclose first.”
Dad looked at her.
“What?”
“Tonight. Full internal disclosure to the board and foundation counsel. Documents. Repayment records. Everything.”
Thomas shook his head.
“It won’t matter.”
“Why?”
“Arthur already has enough directors.”
Dad stared.
“What?”
“He’s been buying loyalty for years.”
“Who?”
Thomas gave us six names.
Two shocked Dad.
One shocked Laura.
The last shocked me.
“Eleanor?”
Dad’s older sister.
My aunt.
Thomas nodded.
“She knows Arthur is alive.”
Dad closed his eyes.
His own family.
Brother.
Sister.
Father.
Everyone orbiting a secret except him.
Laura spoke.
“Even with six, they don’t have enough votes.”
Thomas looked at me.
“They will if Emily votes with them.”
I almost laughed.
“I’m not on the board.”
Thomas looked at Dad.
“Tell her.”
Dad went still.
Not again.
I stared.
“Tell me what?”
Dad whispered, “Your mother left you shares.”
“I know. A trust.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You turned twenty-four last month.”
“So?”
“The trust terminated.”
My stomach tightened.
Dad continued.
“You now directly own eleven percent of Bennett Hospitality.”
I stared at him.
“Eleven percent?”
“Yes.”
“That gives me a board vote?”
“It gives you the right to appoint a director.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Not under the emergency clause.”
Laura suddenly understood.
“Founder-family direct vote.”
Dad nodded.
I looked between them.
“And nobody told me?”
“The transfer paperwork was being finalized.”
I laughed.
Of course.
Another secret.
Thomas spoke urgently.
“Arthur needs Emily’s shares. If he can’t control her vote, he doesn’t control the company.”
Sophie squeezed my hand.
My phone buzzed.
Everyone looked.
Unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
An elderly man sitting beside a fireplace.
Thinner than I remembered.
White hair.
Sharp eyes.
My grandfather.
Alive.
He held today’s newspaper.
Under the photo was one sentence.
HELLO, BLUEBIRD.
My blood turned to ice.
A second message appeared.
TOMORROW AT NOON, YOU WILL GIVE ME BACK MY COMPANY.
May you like
Then a third.
OR I WILL TELL YOU WHAT YOUR FATHER DID THE NIGHT YOUR MOTHER DIED.
