Chapter 9
Dr. Raymond Hale was still working.
That was the worst part.
While police searched Warehouse 47, Ortiz checked hospital records.
Hale had treated more than thirty patients connected to people named in Dad’s archive.
Five were dead.
Nine had developed unexplained illnesses.
Three had withdrawn testimony in major financial cases after becoming sick.
Dad stared at the list.
“He was Victor’s cleaner.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A person who removes problems.”
I wished I hadn’t asked.
Samuel sat beside me.
“You don’t need to see this.”
“Yes, I do.”
Dad looked at him.
“He deserves the truth.”
For once, nobody tried to protect me with lies.
Ortiz contacted federal agents.
A warrant was issued.
But when officers reached Hale’s home, he was gone.
His hospital office was empty.
Computer wiped.
Phone disconnected.
Dad looked at the list again.
“He knew the archive went public.”
Martin asked, “Where would he go?”
Dad pointed to one patient name.
“Not where. Who.”
The name belonged to Angela Mercer.
A federal prosecutor.
Scheduled to testify that afternoon before a grand jury.
If Hale was still working for Victor, she was in danger.
Ortiz called her security detail.
No answer.
Then dispatch reported Mercer’s car had been found abandoned.
We raced back toward Chicago.
I sat beside Dad.
Neither of us spoke for twenty minutes.
Then I asked, “Did Mom know she was being poisoned?”
His jaw tightened.
“Near the end, yes.”
“Did she know who did it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were you supposed to meet her at the hospital?”
Dad looked surprised.
“Who told you?”
“Grandpa.”
He glanced toward Samuel in the front seat.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you show up?”
Dad looked out the window.
“I did.”
My heart jumped.
“You saw her?”
“No.”
“I waited in the parking garage for six hours.”
“What happened?”
“She texted me.”
“What did she say?”
Dad pulled an old phone from his pocket.
He had kept it.
The message read:
DON’T COME UP. THEY KNOW.
“That was her last message to me.”
I stared.
“Then she came home.”
“Yes.”
“She died the next day.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I learned two weeks later.”
“You didn’t come to the funeral.”
“I couldn’t.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Victor had people waiting.”
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like an excuse.”
Samuel shifted in the front seat.
Martin stared ahead.
Dad looked at me.
“You’re right.”
I wasn’t expecting that.
He continued.
“I was afraid.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
He gave a bitter laugh.
“I spent years pretending fear made me careful.”
His eyes were wet.
“Sometimes fear just makes you absent.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I asked the thing that hurt most.
“If Mom had lived, would you have come back?”
“Yes.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes.”
“You promise?”
Dad looked at me.
“I won’t make promises about what I would have done.”
He took my hand.
“I can only promise what I do now.”
That felt more honest.
We reached Chicago.
Federal agents located Angela Mercer’s security vehicle beneath an abandoned medical clinic.
One guard was unconscious.
The other missing.
Mercer had been taken inside.
Ortiz ordered me to remain in the command vehicle.
This time, I agreed.
Not because I suddenly liked being left behind.
Because Dad had to go.
And for the first time, I trusted he would come back.
He leaned through the door.
“Stay with Samuel.”
“I will.”
He hesitated.
Then hugged me.
“Back in five.”
“That’s a promise.”
He smiled.
“Then ten.”
I almost laughed.
Agents entered the clinic.
Minutes passed.
Gunshots.
I gripped Samuel’s hand.
He looked calm.
But his fingers squeezed mine hard.
Then Ortiz’s voice came over the radio.
“Mercer found. Alive.”
I exhaled.
“Where’s Dad?”
Samuel radioed.
“Nathaniel?”
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
My chest tightened.
Then Dad’s voice.
“Basement.”
“What are you doing?” Samuel snapped.
“I found Hale.”
I jumped up.
The radio crackled.
Dad whispered, “He has Victor.”
Everyone in the command vehicle froze.
Ortiz responded.
“Say again.”
“Hale has Victor Shaw.”
That made no sense.
Victor and Hale were partners.
Ortiz ordered units downstairs.
Then Dad said, “Wait.”
A second voice came over the radio.
Victor.
“Ethan.”
I moved toward it.
Samuel grabbed me.
Victor sounded weak.
“Hale killed Claire.”
Dad shouted, “Stop talking.”
Victor laughed painfully.
“You still don’t understand.”
Hale’s voice came next.
“Drop the radio.”
Then static.
Gunfire.
I screamed Dad’s name.
No response.
Agents rushed into the basement.
Thirty seconds felt like an hour.
Then Ortiz:
“Nathaniel is okay.”
I nearly collapsed.
“Hale fled through an underground service tunnel.”
Victor had been shot.
But alive.
When they brought him out, he looked nothing like the man from the bank.
Blood on his shirt.
Face gray.
Paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher.
He saw me through the vehicle window.
“Ethan.”
Dad immediately stepped between us.
“No.”
Victor smiled weakly.
“He deserves to know.”
“Know what?”
I asked.
Dad looked at me.
Victor whispered, “I didn’t order Claire’s death.”
Dad grabbed the stretcher rail.
“You expect us to believe you?”
“No.”
Victor coughed.
“But Hale did more than I told him.”
Ortiz stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
Victor looked toward her.
“Hale was paid by someone else.”
“Who?”
Victor laughed.
“You published the archive.”
“So?”
“You think the archive contains everyone?”
Dad’s face changed.
“It contains the network.”
“It contains my network.”
Victor leaned back.
“Hale had another employer.”
Samuel whispered, “Who?”
Victor looked at Martin.
Then Dad.
Then me.
“A person Claire trusted.”
My stomach twisted.
“Name.”
Victor smiled.
“I never learned it.”
Dad grabbed his shirt.
“Who?”
Victor winced.
“Hale called the person ‘Crown.’”
Samuel went pale.
Dad noticed.
“What?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“Dad.”
Samuel backed away.
I had never seen him afraid like that.
“You know that name.”
He looked at me.
Then whispered, “Crown was Nathaniel’s childhood nickname.”
Dad froze.
“What?”
Samuel swallowed.
“Not yours.”
He looked toward me.
“Your brother’s.”
I stared at Dad.
“You have a brother?”
Dad’s face went empty.
“No.”
Samuel closed his eyes.
“You had one.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He disappeared when you were thirteen.”
Dad stepped toward him.
“My brother died.”
“That’s what I told you.”
Everyone went silent.
Dad’s voice dropped.
“You told me Daniel drowned.”
Samuel looked broken.
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel tried to kill you.”
Dad stopped.
Samuel continued.
“He was sixteen.”
“What happened?”
“He pushed you through the ice during winter.”
Fragments seemed to hit Dad.
A memory.
He whispered, “I fell accidentally.”
“No.”
Samuel shook his head.
“Daniel watched you drown.”
Dad’s face twisted.
“You sent him away.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A psychiatric hospital.”
“He died there.”
Samuel looked at him.
“No.”
Dad’s breath stopped.
Samuel whispered, “Daniel Cross is alive.”
Victor started laughing from the stretcher.
Even injured, he understood before we did.
Dad looked at him.
May you like
Victor whispered one word.
“Crown.”
