Chapter 6 - The Last File on the Drive
Gabriel wanted to dismiss Marcus’s accusation immediately.
I could see it.
Not because he was unwilling to consider evidence.
Because some accusations cut too close to childhood.
“Marcus lies,” he said.
We were in a private medical suite two floors below Gabriel’s residence, away from Cross Tower and whatever cameras might still have been compromised.
His wound had been cleaned and sutured.
My leg had been stitched again.
Toby slept in the next room under guard.
Daniel sat across from us with his hands loosely cuffed in front of him.
“You believe him?” Gabriel asked Daniel.
“No.”
“Then explain his confidence.”
Daniel looked tired.
“Marcus has spent his life turning partial truths into weapons.”
“What partial truth?”
Daniel hesitated.
Gabriel leaned forward.
“My father.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Elias met Peter after the crash.”
The room became silent.
I stared at him.
“You knew my father survived?”
“For several hours.”
My chair scraped backward.
“You knew?”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“I arrived at the crash site after Elias.”
“And you let me bury an empty coffin?”
“I was told Peter died before dawn.”
“Told by whom?”
“Elias.”
Gabriel stood.
His face went blank.
Dangerously blank.
“Start talking.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Peter discovered Marcus’s network. Elias wanted to move him into protection until we could identify everyone involved.”
“Then the crash happened.”
“Yes.”
“Was it Marcus?”
“We believed so.”
“And Peter survived.”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
“Elias took him to a Black Harbor clinic.”
Gabriel’s hands clenched.
“A clinic I never knew existed.”
“Your father kept several properties outside your knowledge.”
“For situations where I might be compromised?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt him.
I could see it.
“What happened at the clinic?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I was sent away to collect Toby.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“Elias wanted both children moved.”
“But we weren’t moved.”
“When I returned, Peter was dead.”
“Body?”
“I never saw it.”
Gabriel looked at him sharply.
“You never saw the body?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Elias told me.”
The room grew colder.
Marcus’s accusation suddenly no longer sounded impossible.
I remembered my father’s message.
Elias Cross is not responsible.
But that video had been recorded before the crash.
Before Elias was alone with my father.
Gabriel walked toward the window.
“You need to sit,” I said.
“I’ve been shot, not wounded in my ability to stand.”
“You’re bleeding through the bandage.”
He looked down.
He was.
Elena entered, saw it, swore, and ordered him back to the bed.
He obeyed only after she threatened to remove him from his own building.
While she changed the dressing, I returned to the silver flash drive.
The original drive.
The one I had carried through Chicago.
The one that had contained the hidden H.M. folder.
“There might be more.”
Daniel looked at me.
“The countdown file?”
“Yes.”
I opened the isolated laptop.
The H.M. folder still existed.
But now there was another subfolder.
LAST.
Password protected.
“What could unlock it?” Gabriel asked.
I thought of my father.
His games.
Dates.
Family memories.
Then I remembered the phrase in his letter.
If you are reading this together.
“Toby.”
Gabriel sent for him.
My brother arrived half-awake, bruised, wearing borrowed clothes.
“What happened?”
“We need a password Dad might have given both of us.”
Toby frowned.
“Like what?”
“Something we shared.”
“Mom’s birthday?”
“Tried.”
“His birthday?”
“Tried.”
“Our old house number?”
“Tried.”
Toby stared at the screen.
Then laughed suddenly.
“What?”
“Bluebird.”
My chest tightened.
“Seriously?”
“Dad used it for everything.”
“That was because you couldn’t remember passwords.”
“I was nine.”
I typed BLUEBIRD.
Unlocked.
Toby smiled.
“I finally contributed.”
The folder contained one audio recording.
No date.
No label.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then my father’s voice.
“If this is being heard, I hope Elias kept his promise.”
Gabriel stopped breathing.
My father continued.
“The crash was not an accident. Marcus’s men forced my car from the road. Elias reached me before they could finish the job.”
I covered my mouth.
“He saved him,” Gabriel whispered.
The recording continued.
“I am badly injured. Elias says moving me again may kill me, but remaining will place Harper and Toby at risk.”
A second voice appeared.
Older.
Firm.
Elias Cross.
“You are not dying here.”
My father laughed weakly.
“That sounds like an order.”
“It is.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
His father.
Alive in sound after eight years.
My father said, “If I don’t survive, you protect my children.”
“I will.”
“Not through men.”
“What?”
“Through distance.”
A pause.
“Marcus watches you. If you suddenly protect Harper and Toby openly, he’ll know I gave you something.”
Elias said quietly, “Then what do you want?”
“Erase me. Make everyone believe I died in the crash.”
My heart stopped.
Toby grabbed my hand.
The recording continued.
Elias said, “And your children?”
“Better grieving than hunted.”
“No father believes that.”
“No father should have to.”
I was crying before I realized it.
Then came the sentence that changed everything again.
My father said, “Once I’m strong enough, I’ll disappear until Marcus’s network is exposed.”
Toby whispered, “He survived.”
The recording continued for another minute.
Elias agreed to create the archive.
To protect us invisibly.
To prevent Marcus from gaining direct control.
Then the audio jumped.
A different date.
My father sounded stronger.
“I am leaving Chicago tonight.”
I stopped breathing.
“If Marcus is still inside Cross operations, I cannot contact Harper or Toby.”
Then:
“Elias has arranged a new identity.”
Gabriel stared at the speaker.
My father had survived.
At least long enough to leave.
The final portion was recorded months later.
“I made it out.”
Toby started crying.
I did too.
“I am sorry, kids. Every day I stay gone is another day you remain outside Marcus’s focus.”
I wanted to scream at him through time.
We had never been outside Marcus’s focus.
Not Toby.
Not me.
My father continued.
“I have collected evidence on the people around Marcus. When I am certain the network can be dismantled, I will return.”
The recording ended.
No return.
No explanation.
Nothing.
Toby wiped his eyes.
“When was that recorded?”
Daniel checked metadata.
“Eleven years and four months ago.”
“What happened after?”
“No idea.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“You need to prepare for the possibility he died later.”
“I know.”
But hope is dangerous.
Once introduced, it refuses to leave quietly.
A knock sounded.
One of Gabriel’s lawyers entered with grim news.
Federal agents were preparing warrants.
Media outlets were publishing forged documents.
Board members were calling emergency meetings.
Banks were freezing accounts.
Marcus was destroying Gabriel’s legitimacy faster than any bullet could.
“What do we do?” Toby asked.
Gabriel looked at the ledger.
“We release everything.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Peter’s letter warned against one authority.”
“Then we don’t give it to one.”
Gabriel turned toward his attorney.
“Duplicate the evidence. Send copies simultaneously to federal prosecutors in three districts, two investigative journalists, the inspector general, and every board member.”
The lawyer nodded.
“What about your exposure?”
“If I’m guilty of anything in those records, I answer for it.”
I looked at him.
He meant it.
“Marcus expects you to protect yourself,” I said.
“Yes.”
“So don’t.”
Gabriel’s eyes met mine.
“Exactly.”
By morning, the story changed.
Not completely.
But enough.
Independent reporters verified several names in the ledger.
A federal judge recused himself.
Two executives resigned.
One police commander disappeared.
Marcus’s network began cracking.
Then came the message.
Not through email.
Not phone.
A physical envelope delivered by courier.
Inside was a photograph.
Marcus standing beside an older man at a gas station outside Milwaukee.
The image was dated three days earlier.
The older man had gray hair.
A beard.
A scar along one side of his face.
Toby dropped into a chair.
I couldn’t move.
Because even after twelve years, I knew those eyes.
My father.
Alive.
On the back of the photograph were six words.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT HIM ALIVE.
An address followed.
May you like
Marcus had found Peter Monroe before we did.
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