Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE
We reached our house twelve minutes later.
The front door was open.
One window was broken.
Our alarm had been disabled.
Daniel tried to enter first.
I stopped him.
“Behind me.”
He looked furious.
“This is my house.”
“And somebody may be inside it.”
Chief Reed nodded at two officers.
They cleared the first floor.
Then the second.
Empty.
Nothing stolen.
At least nothing obvious.
That scared me more.
Burglars take things.
Professionals leave messages.
I walked into my office.
My desk drawers had been opened.
The locked cabinet behind the bookshelf stood wide.
Daniel saw it.
“What was in there?”
“Case files.”
“What case files?”
I ignored him and checked the hidden compartment.
Empty.
My stomach dropped.
Reed came in.
“Gone?”
“Yes.”
Daniel stared between us.
“Would somebody please tell me what the hell is happening?”
I shut the cabinet.
“Seven years ago, the task force investigated a network that laundered money through construction firms, charities, political donations, and private foundations.”
“Vale Holdings?”
“Not then.”
“Then why now?”
“Because one of the names buried in the old files was your father’s.”
Daniel stepped back.
“My father?”
“Richard Vale.”
“My father died ten years ago.”
“I know.”
“You’re telling me my father was a criminal?”
“I’m telling you his name appeared in a ledger.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That could mean anything.”
“It could.”
“What did you believe?”
Before I could answer, Chief Reed spoke.
“We believed Richard Vale was helping us.”
Daniel turned.
“What?”
Reed leaned against my desk.
“Your father contacted federal investigators three months before his death.”
Daniel looked stunned.
“He never told me.”
“He was gathering evidence.”
“Against who?”
That was the question we had never solved.
The old investigation collapsed after an ambush.
Three officers died.
Reed was shot.
I was shot.
My brother disappeared.
And Richard Vale died in what police called a boating accident.
Daniel sat heavily in my desk chair.
“All these years…”
I walked toward him.
“I didn’t marry you because of your father.”
He looked up.
“But you knew his name before you met me.”
“Yes.”
His face twisted.
“Jesus, Elena.”
“I didn’t know who you were when we first met.”
“When did you find out?”
“Three weeks later.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“I was ordered not to.”
“You weren’t ordered to marry me.”
That hurt.
Because he was right.
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A video file.
I opened it.
Thomas appeared on screen.
Behind him sat Peter Sloan.
Alive.
Terrified.
Tom leaned toward the camera.
“Little sister, if you want the accountant alive, come alone.”
He gave an address.
Daniel stood.
“No.”
Tom smiled on the video.
“And Elena?”
He held up the files stolen from my office.
May you like
“Bring Daniel.”
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