CHAPTER 11 - THE MAN BEHIND THE GLASS
CHAPTER 11 - THE MAN BEHIND THE GLASS
Russell reached me before the second shot.
He pulled me against the wall while security officers covered the windows.
My father entered from the adjoining room with blood on his sleeve.
A piece of glass had cut his arm.
The shots came from a rooftop across the street.
By the time police reached it, the shooter was gone.
They found a rifle, two shell casings, and a photograph weighted beneath a stone.
The photograph showed my mother leaving a hospital eleven years earlier.
A red circle had been drawn around her face.
On the back were four words.
SHE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED.
My father stared at the message.
“Daniel sent this.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“I know him.”
“You thought you knew him for thirty years.”
He looked at me.
The truth hurt both of us.
Russell confirmed Victor’s warning less than an hour later.
Daniel Cross had never reached federal custody.
The transport vehicle was found abandoned near Lower Wacker Drive.
Both agents were alive but unconscious.
The driver had used false credentials.
Someone had altered the transfer order inside the federal system.
This was larger than a corporate theft.
Daniel had people inside banks, government offices, and law enforcement.
My father ordered me moved to a secure Hartwell property outside the city.
I refused.
“Hiding is what Evelyn did for eleven years.”
“She survived.”
“She also allowed Daniel to grow stronger.”
Arthur slammed one hand against the desk.
“I will not bury my daughter.”
“Then help me stop him.”
Russell returned with a digital copy of the empty envelope from the bank.
A security camera had captured Camille holding it beneath the lobby light.
The paper inside was visible for less than a second.
A technician enhanced the image.
Only part of my mother’s writing could be read.
Olivia, if you are reading this, Arthur has finally told you—
The remaining words disappeared beneath Camille’s hand.
Another line was partially visible.
Do not trust the company records.
The final readable phrase was the most disturbing.
The accident was not an accident.
I looked at my father.
“What accident?”
He did not answer.
“My mother died from surgical complications.”
“That is what the hospital reported.”
“What did she believe happened?”
Arthur’s face turned gray.
“Six months before she died, your mother was involved in a car crash.”
I remembered the cast on her wrist.
The bruises she covered with long sleeves.
Everyone told me she had skidded on ice.
“The brakes failed,” he said.
“Was Daniel involved?”
“We never proved it.”
“Did Mom think he was?”
“She thought someone wanted her audit stopped.”
“And you allowed him to remain chief operating officer.”
“I had no evidence.”
“You had her fear.”
“I also had twelve thousand employees whose lives depended on the company remaining stable.”
His answer sounded reasonable.
That made it worse.
Power often hid cowardice behind responsibility.
A police officer entered the room carrying a sealed package.
It had been delivered to the front gate before the shooting.
Inside was a phone.
The screen lit when I touched it.
A video began.
Marcus Vane sat in a dark room.
His hands were tied to a chair.
Camille stood behind him.
She was no longer wearing a wig.
“Hello, Olivia,” she said.
“Your husband told you Marcus kept copies.”
“He was right.”
She placed one hand on Marcus’s shoulder.
“He also told you about the storage unit.”
“That was less helpful.”
Marcus lifted his head.
His face was bruised.
Camille smiled.
“You have until midnight to deliver Evelyn Shaw to the old Meridian concrete plant.”
“If you bring police, Marcus dies.”
The video ended.
Russell immediately began tracing the signal.
My father looked at me.
“You are not going.”
“I know.”
He seemed relieved.
I continued.
“Evelyn is.”
From the doorway, a familiar voice answered.
“No, Olivia.”
May you like
Evelyn Shaw stepped into the room.
“We both are.”
