Chapter 10 - The Funeral They Planned
Grace had buried her father eighteen years earlier.
At least, that was what her mother told her.
Thomas Miller had supposedly died in a construction accident in New Jersey.
Closed casket.
Company settlement.
No questions.
Grace was twelve.
Now Veronica claimed he had survived.
Not only survived.
Disappeared.
I expected Grace to cry.
Instead she became frighteningly calm.
“Show me.”
Veronica opened an encrypted message from Sam's phone that she had secretly copied weeks earlier.
There was a reference:
MILLER, THOMAS — KELLER FEDERAL MATTER / relocated 2009
Grace stared.
“Why would Keller have information about my father?”
Veronica looked at me.
Then back at Grace.
“Because your father worked for Peter Keller's construction company.”
The pieces moved.
Construction.
Keller.
Financial records.
Witness protection.
Grace's mother had hidden the truth to protect her daughter.
“Did he testify?” I asked.
“I don't know,” Veronica said.
Grace's voice was almost inaudible.
“I remember men coming to our apartment.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“What men?”
“I don't know. Suits.”
Keller's empire had been built long before Bellhaven.
Perhaps Thomas Miller had seen its foundations.
We couldn't investigate further.
Not yet.
At 9:34 p.m., Dr. Leonard Shaw arrived.
He wore a white coat.
Carried a tablet.
Smiled professionally.
Veronica sat beside me holding my hand.
Grace was gone.
Officially.
In reality, she watched from a room across the hall with Carlo and two investigators we had finally decided to trust.
Not local police.
Federal financial-crimes agents connected through a former prosecutor Carlo knew.
We had given them enough Keller files to earn attention.
Not enough to surrender control.
At 9:48, Shaw examined me.
Light in the eyes.
Reflex test.
Pain response.
I gave him exactly what an unconscious man would.
Nothing.
At 9:56, Samuel Rusk entered.
He wore a charcoal suit.
No tie.
The appearance of a loyal attorney who had rushed from home.
“Veronica.”
She stood.
He embraced her.
I could feel her disgust from six feet away.
“Any change?” Sam asked.
“No.”
“You've been crying.”
“I’m losing him.”
Excellent performance.
Maybe that hurt more than it should have.
Shaw finished.
Sam asked, “Well?”
The doctor removed his glasses.
“In my opinion, the neurological prognosis is catastrophic.”
Michael, standing near the monitor, crossed his arms.
“I disagree.”
Shaw expected that.
“You're emotionally involved.”
“He's my patient.”
“Exactly.”
Sam intervened.
“Gentlemen.”
He produced the forged directive.
Michael stared at his fake signature.
“This isn't mine.”
Sam looked surprised.
Oscar-worthy.
“Michael.”
“I never signed this.”
Veronica began trembling.
Also convincing.
Sam said, “Are you certain?”
Michael glared at him.
“I know my signature.”
Shaw stepped forward.
“The directive remains witnessed.”
“By a fraudulent signature.”
Sam's expression hardened almost imperceptibly.
Then he did what we expected.
He reached for his phone.
The door opened before he could use it.
Anthony entered.
His arm was bandaged beneath his coat.
Sam stared.
“What are you doing here?”
“Visiting family.”
“You need to leave.”
Anthony smiled.
“You don't own the hospital.”
“Anthony,” Veronica whispered, pretending surprise.
He ignored her.
Sam's composure cracked.
Only slightly.
But cameras were recording everything.
Hidden cameras this time.
Our cameras.
“Tonight isn't the time,” Sam said.
“For what?”
“You know what.”
Anthony walked closer.
“Tell me what I know.”
Sam glanced toward Shaw.
Mistake.
Anthony noticed.
“So he's the second doctor.”
Shaw stiffened.
“I don't know what you're implying.”
Anthony laughed.
“I've spent a week with people implying things.”
Sam stepped toward him.
“Go home.”
“No.”
“Anthony.”
“You promised me Dominic's voting control.”
The room froze.
Veronica gasped theatrically.
Michael stared at Sam.
Shaw looked toward the door.
Sam lowered his voice.
“You're upset.”
“I’m very calm.”
“You're confused.”
“No, Sam. I was confused when you told me nobody would get hurt.”
Another piece of evidence.
Sam's face went pale.
“Stop talking.”
Anthony smiled.
“Why?”
“Because you're grieving.”
“No.”
Anthony looked at my body.
Then back at Sam.
“I stopped grieving when I realized you killed Nico.”
Sam lunged.
Not with a weapon.
For Anthony's coat.
Maybe to stop a recorder he suspected was hidden there.
Carlo and federal agents entered instantly.
“Hands where we can see them.”
Shaw backed against the wall.
Sam froze.
Veronica began sobbing.
This time partially real.
An agent identified himself.
Samuel Rusk looked around.
Then at Michael.
Then Anthony.
Then Veronica.
Finally at me.
His eyes narrowed.
Something changed.
He walked slowly toward the bed.
“Dominic.”
Nobody moved.
Sam smiled.
“I know you can hear me.”
Silence.
“Very clever.”
I remained still.
Then he said:
“But not clever enough.”
My eyes opened.
Sam's smile disappeared.
“Hello, Sam.”
The color drained from his face.
Behind him, federal agents moved closer.
I sat up as far as my ribs allowed.
“You really should've picked a better notary.”
Sam stared at me.
Then laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You think this ends with me?”
“No.”
“It doesn't.”
“I know.”
“Keller owns people you haven't even met.”
“Then introduce me.”
His expression changed.
“You don't understand what you found.”
“Pier 17B?”
Sam froze.
That was confirmation.
I continued.
“Interesting filing system.”
“You went there.”
“Yes.”
“You took something.”
“Maybe.”
He looked toward the agents.
Then back at me.
“If Keller thinks you copied that archive, everyone in this building becomes a target.”
Grace watched from the doorway.
Sam saw her.
His face changed.
Recognition.
Then fear.
Not because Grace was dangerous.
Because he recognized her name.
“Miller.”
Grace stepped into the room.
“What about it?”
Sam's eyes narrowed.
“Thomas Miller's daughter.”
Grace went rigid.
“You knew my father?”
Sam smiled.
And for the first time that night, I wanted to leave the bed and hit him myself.
“Knew of him.”
“Is he alive?”
Sam said nothing.
Grace stepped closer.
“Is my father alive?”
An agent moved between them.
Sam looked at me instead.
“You have no idea why Keller wants Bellhaven.”
“Then explain.”
“He doesn't want the land.”
“The archive?”
“Not that either.”
“What?”
Sam smiled again.
“He wants what's buried under Pier 17B.”
Veronica had used almost the same words.
I stared at him.
“What is it?”
Sam leaned closer.
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Twenty-three years ago, Peter Keller wasn't a councilman.”
“I know.”
“He was a developer.”
“And?”
“He built the Eastbridge Towers.”
Grace made a sound behind us.
Everyone turned.
Her face had gone white.
“My father worked at Eastbridge.”
Sam looked at her.
“Yes.”
Grace whispered, “The building where the workers died.”
The memory came back.
A construction collapse.
Three men killed.
Officially an accident.
Thomas Miller supposedly died a year later.
Sam continued.
“Your father discovered why that building collapsed.”
Grace stared.
“What did he find?”
“Fraud. Cheap materials. Bribed inspectors.”
“And Keller?”
“Approved everything.”
Grace's hands trembled.
“So my father testified.”
“Yes.”
“Then where is he?”
Sam looked around the room.
“If Keller gets that archive back, maybe alive.”
Grace stepped forward.
“And if he doesn't?”
Sam's eyes met hers.
“I wouldn't wait for another funeral.”
The agents pulled him away.
Grace stood motionless.
I called her name.
She turned.
Before I could say anything, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A man's voice came through.
Older.
Shaking.
“Gracie?”
Her knees nearly gave out.
She knew the voice.
Even after eighteen years.
“Dad?”
A sob broke from her throat.
The man continued.
“You need to listen carefully.”
Grace pressed the phone tighter against her ear.
“Where are you?”
“No time.”
“Dad—”
“Peter Keller found me.”
The line crackled.
Then Thomas Miller said:
May you like
“He's coming for you next.”
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