Chapter 9 - FIFTY-EIGHT MINUTES
Voss’s head hung forward.
Gray tape covered his mouth. His hands had been secured behind the chair, and a dark bruise marked his temple.
The video contained no sound.
The clock changed to 57:42.
Agent Ruiz ordered everyone away from the computer. Bennett photographed the screen and called for cybercrime support.
Evelyn leaned close without touching the keyboard.
“The feed is delayed.”
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“The second hand on the wall clock behind him doesn’t match the countdown. We may be looking at prerecorded footage.”
A new line appeared beneath the video.
BRING THE BLUE LEDGER TO PIER 19.
CLAIRE COMES ALONE.
Diane stood.
“No.”
I turned toward her.
Her face had drained to the same color it had when the knock sounded at the door.
“What is Pier 19?”
“An abandoned Parker Industrial warehouse on the Delaware River.”
My father closed it seven years earlier after a structural inspection found damage to the loading platform. Ray argued for reopening it. My father refused.
Agent Bennett read from his phone.
“Property was transferred last year to Bellweather Consulting.”
My stolen identity owned the place.
If Voss died there, the trail would lead directly to me.
Ruiz understood at the same moment.
“This is not a ransom exchange. It’s a scene they’re preparing.”
Evelyn turned toward Diane.
“Who knows Claire is here?”
“Everyone at the table.”
“Outside this house.”
Diane hesitated.
“My sister called this morning.”
I had not seen my aunt Laura in eleven years. She and Diane stopped speaking after a dispute over my grandmother’s estate.
“What did you tell her?”
“That Claire was coming to sign.”
“Why?”
“She called me. She already knew.”
Evelyn’s expression sharpened.
“How?”
Diane shook her head.
“I assumed Ray told her.”
Every answer pointed outward to another person.
Mercer controlled security. Ray carried out instructions. Voss prepared documents. Diane manipulated me. My aunt somehow knew about the meeting.
And somewhere inside that web was Northstar.
I picked up the damaged ledger.
Several pages remained attached to the spine. One contained a list of employee identification numbers beside initials.
DM—Security override.
RV—Counsel transfer.
DP—Family contact.
The final entry read:
NORTHSTAR—C.P. access only.
My initials.
“I’m Northstar?”
Evelyn looked over my shoulder.
“No. Your father said Northstar was a person.”
“Then why does it say I have access?”
“Maybe because you are the only one who can identify them.”
The computer chimed.
A second video window opened.
This one showed my father’s study from above.
The image had been recorded before his death. He stood beside the desk, alive, speaking to someone outside the camera’s view.
There was no audio.
The unseen person handed him a folder.
My father opened it, read one page, and staggered backward as if struck.
The person stepped partly into frame.
A woman.
Only her shoulder and one hand were visible.
She wore a distinctive gold ring shaped like a twisting vine.
I had seen that ring every Christmas of my childhood.
It belonged to Aunt Laura.
Diane gripped the chair back.
“That isn’t possible.”
The screen changed again.
A file-transfer bar appeared beneath the video.
NORTHSTAR IDENTITY PACKAGE: 12% UPLOADED.
Evelyn reached for the power cable.
“Don’t,” Bennett warned. “We could lose the source.”
“What happens when it reaches one hundred?” I asked.
No one knew.
The countdown beside Voss reached 52:08.
Then sound burst from the speakers.
Voss lifted his head.
Someone removed the tape from his mouth.
He coughed and looked toward a person behind the camera.
“I did what you asked,” he said. “I brought Claire to the table.”
A distorted voice answered.
“And she refused.”
Voss’s eyes filled with terror.
“Diane was supposed to convince her.”
“She failed.”
The unseen speaker moved closer.
A gold vine ring flashed beside the lens.
Then a woman’s natural, undisguised voice said, “Just like she failed with Henry.”
May you like
Diane whispered one word.
“Laura.”
