Chapter 7: The Deputy Chief’s Orders
I read the message three times before the words stopped blurring together.
*Bring the ledger to the blue door, or the boy dies first.*
Below it was an address on the outskirts of Columbus and a second line that made my hands tighten around my phone.
*Ask Deputy Chief Harris why he ordered Rebecca's death.*
Sergeant Collins stood beside Officer Ruiz, pressing gauze against the cut above her eyebrow.
“Bennett,” she said quietly, “don't do anything stupid.””
I looked toward the empty road.
“They have Noah.””
“And Emily.””
“Then we get them back.””
Collins rose slowly. There was blood on her fingers, and her face had changed. The grief I'd seen when she discovered her sister's file had hardened into something far more dangerous.
“We have one advantage,” she said.
“They think we're going to bring them the ledger.””
I glanced at the evidence bag in my hand. We'd taken the cassette and several documents from Unit 214, but the original ledger was still missing.
“They specifically asked for the ledger,” I said.
“Which means they don't have it.””
“Or they think the copy we found is incomplete.””
I opened the message again and examined the photograph of Noah. The picture had been taken inside a vehicle with dark leather seats. A strip of yellow tape was visible along the window frame.
Something about it looked familiar.
Then I remembered the industrial road near the warehouse. An abandoned municipal bus depot sat less than a mile away. Several vehicles there had yellow inspection tape on their windows.
I showed Collins.
“Could be the depot.””
“Could be a deliberate clue.””
“Either way, we need help.””
She shook her head.
“Not through dispatch. Not through the department. Harris has access to both.””
I looked at her.
“Then who can we trust?””
She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts.
“One person.””
She called a number and put it on speaker.
A man answered after two rings.
“Collins?””
“David, I need a favor.””
“It's eleven in the morning, Patricia. You don't call me for favors unless somebody's bleeding.””
“Someone's taken a child. I need a clean team, no department channels, and no paperwork until I tell you otherwise.””
The man fell silent.
“Is this connected to Rebecca?””
Collins closed her eyes.
“Yes.””
A chair scraped on the other end.
“Where are you?””
“East side. Near the old archive warehouse.””
“I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't move.””
The call ended.
I looked at Collins.
“Who was that?””
“David Shaw. Federal prosecutor. He handled the original corruption case that collapsed.””
“The case Ethan Ward testified in?””
“Yes.””
“Why would he help us?””
She looked at the cassette recorder in my hand.
“Because he was the one who put Ethan Ward into witness protection.””
Fifteen minutes later, a dark blue sedan pulled up beside the curb. A tall man in his late fifties stepped out wearing a rumpled suit and carrying a leather briefcase.
He looked at Collins, then at me.
“Show me what you've got.””
We played him the recording inside the sedan.
He listened without interrupting. When Ethan's voice mentioned the deaths of protected witnesses, Shaw's jaw tightened.
But when the recording revealed Thomas Vale's identity, he stopped the tape.
“That's impossible.””
“Why?”” I asked.
“Because Thomas Vale died eight years ago.””
Collins leaned forward.
“Apparently not.””
Shaw rubbed his forehead.
“Ethan Ward testified against a network that sold protected identities. Vale was one of the suspected buyers. When we prepared the case, Ethan identified him as the man who'd arranged several of the payments.””
“And Mercer?”” I asked.
“Mercer was a detective who worked with the task force. He had access to the evidence, but we never found enough to charge him.””
“So Vale stole Mercer's identity?””
Shaw shook his head.
“Or Mercer stole Vale's. We need the original fingerprint records.””
“Can you get them?””
“Not without alerting people who may be compromised.””
Collins placed the file concerning Rebecca's death on his lap.
“Then start here.””
Shaw read the handwritten note.
His expression crumpled.
“I knew she was investigating something. She came to my office the day before she died. She said she'd found evidence that someone inside the department was ordering hits on witnesses.””
“You never told Collins?”” I demanded.
“I couldn't prove it. And twenty-four hours later, Rebecca was dead.””
Collins stared at him.
“You let me believe my sister had been killed in a random accident.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
She slapped the folder against his chest.
“Everyone keeps saying that!””
Shaw didn't defend himself.
Instead, he opened his briefcase and took out a small flash drive.
“Rebecca gave me this before she died. I never opened it because I couldn't verify that it came from her.””
Collins took the drive with trembling fingers.
“What's on it?””
“I don't know. She told me to keep it until someone brought me the original ledger.””
I looked at the photograph of Noah.
“Then let's make sure someone gets to bring it.””
Shaw inserted the drive into an isolated laptop. A single audio file appeared.
He pressed PLAY.
Rebecca's voice filled the car.
“If you're hearing this, I wasn't able to get the evidence out. Harris is directing the operation. Mercer handles the local investigations. Price controls access to the witness-protection database.””
Collins covered her mouth.
Rebecca continued.
“But Harris isn't the one making the final decisions. Someone above him is paying for the identities. Someone who knows exactly which witnesses are dangerous.””
A pause followed.
Then Rebecca whispered a name.
“Senator Richard Bell.””
Shaw went rigid.
I knew Bell's name. He was a former federal prosecutor, now a powerful senator with a reputation for championing law enforcement.
Rebecca's recording continued.
“James Carter found the payment records. Ethan has the testimony. And the child has the only copy of the original ledger.””
The file ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then Shaw looked at me.
“Where's the boy?””
“Taken.””
“By whom?””
“We don't know yet.””
He stared at the message on my phone.
Then he pointed to the location.
“That's not the bus depot.””
“What is it?””
“A private training facility owned by Bell's security contractor.””
Collins opened the passenger door.
“Then we're going there.””
Shaw caught her arm.
“If Bell is involved, he'll have armed security. You can't storm that building.””
She pulled free.
“My nephew is in there.””
I looked at her.
“Your nephew?””
“Rebecca's son. Daniel took him into foster care after she died. I haven't seen him in years.””
She swallowed hard.
“His name is Noah.””
For a moment, the world seemed to tilt.
I stared at her.
“That's impossible. Noah is Emily's son.””
Collins looked at the photograph again.
Then she whispered something that chilled me to the bone.
“Unless James Carter isn't his biological father.””
My phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
This time, it contained a photograph of Deputy Chief Harris standing beside a man whose face was partially obscured.
The caption read:
*You have one hour. Bring the ledger. And come alone.*
I zoomed in on the photograph.
The man's face was familiar.
I had seen him in a missing-person bulletin.
May you like
His name was Ethan Ward.
And he was standing beside the man we'd been calling Daniel Mercer.
