Chapter 6 - The Investigation My Father Never Finished
The federal agents introduced themselves as Special Agent Naomi Blake and Special Agent Aaron Whitaker.
Neither wasted time.
“We’re investigating a series of freight transactions dating back more than a decade,” Blake said.
“How does that involve me?”
Whitaker placed a folder on my desk.
Inside were shipping manifests carrying Hawthorne Logistics routing codes.
The dates began fifteen years earlier.
Before I ran the company.
Before Daniel.
Before my father became ill.
“What am I looking at?”
“Cargo transfers connected to Mercer Freight.”
I looked up.
“Mercer Freight went bankrupt.”
“Yes.”
“Fifteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
Blake pointed toward three highlighted entries.
“Several Hawthorne employees facilitated rerouting of Mercer Freight cargo through Hawthorne distribution centers shortly before the bankruptcy.”
“What cargo?”
“High-value electronics, controlled industrial equipment, restricted components.”
My stomach tightened.
“Smuggling?”
“Customs fraud, sanctions violations, falsified manifests. Possibly more.”
I thought of my father.
All those nights he came home furious during the final years before my mother died.
All the conversations that stopped when I entered rooms.
“What does Leonard Shaw have to do with this?”
Both agents became still.
That answered more than words could.
Blake said, “Why did you mention Mr. Shaw?”
“Someone told me my father suspected him.”
“Who?”
“I’m not ready to say.”
Whitaker leaned back.
“That’s not how federal investigations work.”
“And corporate control battles don’t usually begin with someone drugging their wife.”
Blake’s expression changed.
“We’re aware of the hospital incident.”
“Then you understand why I’m careful.”
She nodded reluctantly.
“What did your father leave you?”
That question frightened me.
“How do you know he left anything?”
Neither agent answered.
Someone had told them.
Samuel?
Evelyn?
Leonard?
Daniel?
“I need my attorney.”
“Reasonable.”
I called Rebecca, not Samuel.
Twenty minutes later, she arrived.
Only then did I show the agents copies of the ledger and the relevant portions of my father’s letter.
Not the originals.
Blake read silently.
When she reached the references to Mercer Freight, she exchanged a glance with Whitaker.
“Your father contacted federal investigators eleven months before his cancer diagnosis,” she said.
My throat tightened.
“About this?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He stopped cooperating.”
“Why?”
“We never knew.”
That didn’t sound like my father.
“He wouldn’t just stop.”
“We agree.”
“Did Samuel know?”
“We believe so.”
Everything kept circling back to Samuel.
Then Blake placed another photograph on the desk.
My father.
Walking from a Washington restaurant.
Beside him was Samuel.
And behind them—
Leonard Shaw.
The photograph was dated three weeks before my father stopped communicating with federal investigators.
“You think Leonard threatened him?”
“We don’t speculate.”
I almost smiled.
“You just carry photographs around instead.”
Blake ignored the comment.
“We believe your father stored evidence separately from Hawthorne’s primary systems.”
“The hidden compartment.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I had almost given away too much.
The agents left at 3:30.
At 3:44, Rebecca received an email.
It appeared to come from Samuel.
DON’T LET CLAIRE TRUST THE FBI.
There was an attachment.
A photograph.
Samuel Price sitting in a chair.
His hands bound.
Rebecca went pale.
Then another email arrived.
THIS ENDS IF CLAIRE SIGNS OVER HER VOTING AUTHORITY FOR 72 HOURS.
I read it twice.
“No.”
Rebecca whispered, “Claire—”
“No.”
“They have Samuel.”
“And if I sign, they’ll have Hawthorne.”
“We need police.”
I forwarded everything to Agent Blake and Detective Ortiz.
Within minutes, both agencies were coordinating.
The ransom demand contained no location.
Only instructions.
At 6 p.m., I was to authorize an emergency voting proxy naming Daniel Mercer.
Daniel.
Not Leonard.
Not Samuel.
Daniel.
That meant either Daniel was controlling this—or someone wanted me to believe he was.
I called him.
His attorney answered.
“Daniel cannot speak with you directly.”
“Someone kidnapped Samuel Price and demanded I give Daniel my voting rights.”
Silence.
Then Bellamy said, “I’ll call you back.”
Daniel called forty seconds later.
“No lawyers,” he said.
“Did you take Samuel?”
“What?”
I forwarded the photo.
His breathing changed.
“Jesus.”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“Did you tell someone about the safeguard?”
“I don’t even know what safeguard you’re talking about.”
“Then why does someone want the voting proxy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else knows what you were planning?”
Daniel went quiet.
That was the wrong response.
“Daniel.”
“My mother.”
“Who else?”
“Patrick.”
My heart dropped.
“Your brother?”
“He helped prepare some documents.”
“You told me he was barely involved in our finances.”
“I lied.”
“Obviously.”
“Claire, listen to me.”
“No.”
“Patrick introduced me to someone.”
“Who?”
“A consultant.”
“What consultant?”
“He said there was a way to have you temporarily declared incapable without making it permanent.”
I gripped the phone.
“Name.”
“I only knew him as Mr. Vale.”
Rebecca typed quickly on her laptop.
“Where did you meet him?”
“Twice. Private club downtown.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Daniel, what exactly did you ask him to do?”
“I didn’t ask him to hurt you.”
“YOU PUT POWDER IN MY SOUP.”
“It was supposed to make you sleep!”
Rebecca looked at me.
I had Daniel on speaker.
And recording.
His breathing became ragged.
“It was a sedative. That’s all.”
“You drugged me.”
“I was going to get you upstairs. Then a physician was supposed to document confusion, disorientation, medication misuse—”
I felt physically sick.
“You planned to frame me as mentally incompetent.”
“I was angry.”
“For three months?”
“I thought the company should be partly mine.”
“It isn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“No, Daniel. You knew it then.”
Silence.
Then he whispered:
“Patrick said nobody would get hurt.”
My anger vanished.
Replaced by something colder.
“Where is Patrick?”
“I don’t know.”
At that exact moment, my phone received a video call.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Samuel appeared on screen.
Still tied to the chair.
A masked person stood behind him.
Then another figure entered the frame.
Patrick Mercer.
Daniel’s brother smiled directly into the camera.
“Hi, Claire.”
Daniel heard his voice through the speaker.
“Patrick?”
Patrick’s smile widened.
May you like
“Tell my brother he was never smart enough for this.”
The screen went black.
