Chapter 8
Dad almost collapsed into a chair.
“No.”
Angela covered her mouth.
I stared at the speaker.
The recording ended.
Silence filled the house.
I looked at Dad’s left hand.
He still wore his wedding band.
Four years after Mom died.
He had never taken it off.
“Mom’s ring was buried with her?”
“Yes.”
His voice was barely audible.
“I insisted.”
Angela whispered, “Why would she put anything inside it?”
Dad shook his head.
“Her ring wasn’t hollow.”
“How do you know?”
“I designed it.”
Of course he did.
Richard Harrison owned one of the largest jewelry chains in the country.
Mom’s wedding ring was custom.
Dad suddenly stood.
“The center stone.”
“What?”
He looked at me.
“The diamond had a hidden gallery underneath.”
Angela frowned.
“For what?”
“A small engraved plate.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I never put anything there.”
“Mom did.”
We all understood at once.
Not the entire paper ledger.
A data device.
Microfilm.
A memory chip.
Something small.
Angela whispered, “She took it to the grave.”
Dad’s face twisted.
“She knew no one would disturb her there.”
Then his phone rang.
He checked it.
Cemetery administration.
My stomach turned before he answered.
“This is Richard Harrison.”
He listened.
His face collapsed.
“When?”
Angela grabbed my arm.
Dad whispered, “We’re coming.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at us.
“Your mother’s grave was opened.”
Angela gasped.
“What?”
“Groundskeeper found it twenty minutes ago.”
We drove faster than I thought my father was capable of driving.
Police were already at the cemetery.
Floodlights lit the grass.
Mom’s grave looked destroyed.
The stone was intact.
The earth wasn’t.
I stopped walking.
I couldn’t go closer.
Angela did.
Then she turned away crying.
Dad stood beside the grave.
He looked older than I had ever seen him.
A detective approached.
“The casket was opened.”
Dad’s voice shook.
“Was anything taken?”
“We believe jewelry.”
I closed my eyes.
Too late.
Again.
A technician walked over holding an evidence bag.
Inside was Mom’s wedding ring.
Dad stared.
“You found it?”
The technician nodded.
“On the ground.”
Hope surged.
Dad looked closely.
Then his expression changed.
“That isn’t her ring.”
I stared.
“It looks like it.”
“It’s a copy.”
“How can you tell?”
“The prongs.”
He pointed.
“I made hers by hand.”
The detective frowned.
“You personally made it?”
“Yes.”
Dad’s voice hardened.
“And whoever did this replaced it.”
Angela looked sick.
“So they have the real ring.”
I walked toward the grave.
Anger replaced grief.
Somebody had opened my mother’s coffin for information.
Whatever this ledger contained, people were willing to kill for it.
I said, “Who knew about the ring?”
“Only us,” Angela replied.
“And whoever broke into your house.”
Dad stared at the grave.
“No.”
I turned.
“What?”
He looked toward me.
“Someone knew before the recording played.”
“How?”
“The grave was already disturbed.”
Angela checked the timestamp on her security system.
Dad was right.
The cemetery breach occurred before we heard Mom’s message.
My stomach tightened.
“That means someone already knew.”
Dad nodded.
“Margaret told someone else.”
I thought about Daniel.
Marcus.
Her attorney.
Doctors.
Friends.
Then I remembered something.
“The jeweler.”
Dad frowned.
“What?”
“Mom couldn’t have modified the ring herself.”
Dad stared.
Angela whispered, “Someone installed whatever was inside.”
Dad immediately took out his phone.
He called Harrison corporate archives.
“Find every service record attached to Margaret Harrison’s wedding ring.”
He waited.
Five minutes.
Then ten.
Finally, an employee called back.
Dad put the phone on speaker.
“There’s one service record from five years ago.”
One year before Mom died.
“Which store?”
“Private workshop. Harrison flagship.”
“Jeweler?”
A pause.
“Thomas Reed.”
Dad’s face changed.
“Tom?”
Angela asked, “Who is he?”
Dad looked at us.
“My first master jeweler.”
“Still working?”
“Retired.”
“Where does he live?”
Dad turned to the employee.
“Address.”
We were driving before the call ended.
Thomas Reed lived forty minutes away in a small house near a lake.
When we arrived, the front door was open.
Dad didn’t wait for police.
“Tom?”
I followed him inside.
“Dad.”
The living room was dark.
A lamp was overturned.
Angela stayed by the door calling 911.
Dad moved toward the kitchen.
Then stopped.
Thomas Reed sat at the table.
Alive.
A gun rested in his hand.
Pointed toward us.
Dad froze.
“Tom.”
The old man looked terrified.
“Close the door.”
I did.
“Are you hurt?” Dad asked.
“No.”
“Then put the gun down.”
“No.”
Thomas’s hand shook.
“Richard, you should never have come.”
Dad took one slow step.
“Margaret’s ring.”
Thomas’s eyes filled with tears.
“So they found it.”
“Who?”
He shook his head.
“I promised her.”
“Margaret is dead.”
“I know.”
“They opened her grave.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Oh God.”
Dad’s voice broke.
“They opened her coffin, Tom.”
The gun lowered slightly.
“I told her this would happen.”
“Then tell us what she put in the ring.”
Thomas stared at me.
“You’re Ethan.”
“Yes.”
He looked almost relieved.
“She said you might come someday.”
“What was inside?”
“A micro storage chip.”
Angela entered slowly.
“Containing the ledger?”
Thomas nodded.
“Copies.”
“Copies of what?”
“Everything.”
Dad leaned against the counter.
Thomas continued.
“Bank records. Names. Video files. Audio recordings.”
“Of Marcus?”
“Marcus and others.”
“How many others?”
Thomas laughed weakly.
“People you see on television.”
Nobody spoke.
“Politicians?” I asked.
“Businessmen. Judges. Police. Organized crime.”
My blood went cold.
No wonder people were killing for it.
Angela whispered, “Who took the ring?”
Thomas looked toward the dark window.
“They came here first.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t know them.”
“What did they want?”
“To know where Margaret hid the ledger.”
“You told them?”
“No.”
“Then how did they find the ring?”
Thomas’s eyes moved toward me.
“She left another clue.”
My heart sank.
“What clue?”
“Inside the old Harrison store.”
I stared.
“But the ledger wasn’t there.”
“No.”
Thomas shook his head.
“The instructions were.”
I thought about the people watching us.
The messages.
“They followed the same clues.”
“Yes.”
Dad whispered, “Where would they take it?”
Thomas looked down.
“The chip is encrypted.”
Angela leaned forward.
“With what?”
“Margaret chose the password.”
“Do you know it?”
“No.”
Thomas looked at me again.
“But she told me only one person would.”
“Me?”
He nodded.
I laughed helplessly.
“I don’t.”
“You will.”
“How?”
“She said it was the first promise Richard ever made you.”
I looked at Dad.
He looked completely confused.
“My first promise?”
I searched my memory.
Dad had made thousands.
Then something surfaced.
A story Mom used to tell.
I was three years old.
Terrified of thunderstorms.
Dad sat beside my bed all night.
I asked if he would leave.
He said four words.
“Not while you’re afraid.”
I whispered them.
Dad’s eyes widened.
Thomas nodded.
“That sounds like Margaret.”
Angela pulled out her phone.
“If that’s the password—”
A red dot appeared on Thomas’s chest.
I saw it before anyone else.
“DOWN!”
I tackled him.
The window exploded.
A bullet hit the wall.
Dad pulled Angela behind the counter.
Another shot shattered the lamp.
Thomas screamed.
“Back door!”
We crawled.
Outside, tires squealed.
By the time police arrived, the shooter was gone.
Thomas survived.
The bullet hadn’t touched him.
But something had changed.
The people hunting the ledger now knew we were close to the password.
And less than an hour later, I received another text.
A photograph of the real wedding ring.
Below it:
MIDNIGHT.
COME TO THE HARRISON FLAGSHIP.
May you like
BRING MARCUS VALE.
OR THE LEDGER DISAPPEARS FOREVER.
