Chapter 5 - Someone Inside the Task Force
I stared at my phone.
There are accusations you dismiss immediately.
Then there are accusations that fit one unexplained piece too many.
Vale had known I was an investigator.
He knew enough to avoid me.
He knew enough about my family to identify Dad as leverage.
Some information could have been obtained through surveillance.
Some through public records.
But not all of it.
I called my supervisor.
I did not call Ramirez.
Not because I distrusted him.
Because Dad had said someone inside.
Until that claim was tested, compartmentalization mattered.
An internal security team took over.
For the next forty-eight hours, I knew almost nothing.
And that was torture.
Meanwhile, my family imploded.
Mom arrived at my apartment.
Natalie tried to stop her.
I opened the door anyway.
Helen looked exhausted.
No makeup.
Wet hair.
Same beige coat she had worn for years.
“I owe you an apology.”
I said nothing.
“For more than one thing.”
“Come inside.”
She sat across from Grandma.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Mom whispered, “Evelyn, I’m sorry.”
Grandma looked at her.
“You watched him take my phone.”
“I know.”
“You watched him stop me from leaving.”
“I know.”
“You told me to sign.”
Mom began crying.
“I thought we were losing everything.”
Grandma’s voice remained steady.
“So you decided to lose me instead?”
Mom covered her face.
That sentence broke something.
Not loudly.
But permanently.
Eventually Mom told us the truth.
Dad had confessed months earlier that their retirement accounts were nearly gone.
Vale had convinced him that one final investment could recover everything.
It required collateral.
Grandma’s house.
Mom objected.
Dad insisted Grandma would understand.
Then Vale began calling.
Threatening lawsuits.
Exposure.
Prison.
Dad panicked.
Mom panicked with him.
Fear turned into justification.
Justification turned into coercion.
“I kept telling myself we were borrowing,” Mom whispered.
Grandma asked, “Did you believe that?”
Mom looked at her.
“No.”
It was the first completely honest thing she had said.
Three days later, internal investigators found the leak.
It wasn’t Ramirez.
It wasn’t my supervisor.
It was a civilian contractor with access to case-management systems.
Vale had paid him for information.
Suddenly the investigation accelerated.
Search warrants.
Frozen accounts.
Digital seizures.
Interviews across three states.
And then Martin Vale disappeared.
He abandoned his apartment.
His vehicle was found near the airport.
No confirmed flight.
No reliable sighting.
But investigators found something else.
A storage unit.
Inside were boxes containing copies of victims’ financial records.
Fake IDs.
Prepaid phones.
And photographs.
One photograph showed Grandma leaving the grocery store.
Another showed Natalie outside her office.
Another showed Mom gardening.
And one showed me.
I was walking out of my apartment.
The photograph had been taken from across the street.
On the back, someone had written:
SHE DOESN’T KNOW YET.
That night, Grandma refused to be frightened.
“We change the locks,” she said.
“We already did.”
“We install cameras.”
“Already done.”
“We buy a large dog.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You hate dogs.”
“I hate criminals more.”
I laughed.
For the first time in days, it felt good.
Then the doorbell rang.
Every person in the apartment froze.
I checked the camera.
Dad.
Alone.
Grandma’s face hardened.
Natalie whispered, “Don’t.”
But Grandma stood.
“Let him in.”
Dad entered looking smaller than I remembered.
He didn’t sit.
He looked at his mother.
“I’m sorry.”
Grandma said nothing.
“I thought I could fix it.”
Still nothing.
“I lost money. Vale offered me a way out. Every time I realized how bad it was, I had already gone further.”
Grandma finally spoke.
“You stole from me.”
“Yes.”
“You frightened me.”
“Yes.”
“You used Maya’s identity.”
Dad looked at me.
“I gave Vale information. I didn’t know what he planned to do with it.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“I know.”
He cried then.
I had seen my father cry once before.
At his father’s funeral.
This was different.
He wasn’t grieving someone else.
He was grieving the person he had believed himself to be.
“I called you a failure,” he whispered to me.
“Yes.”
“Because every time I looked at you, I was angry.”
“Why?”
His answer surprised me.
“Because you didn’t care what people thought.”
I stared at him.
“You lived in that little apartment. Drove that old car. Never competed with Natalie. Never tried to impress anyone. I thought that meant you lacked ambition.”
He swallowed.
“But I think I hated that you were free from something I could never escape.”
“What?”
“The need to look successful.”
For once, Dad wasn’t making excuses.
He was admitting something ugly.
And true.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He looked at it.
His face drained.
I immediately understood.
“Vale?”
Dad nodded.
“Answer it.”
He did.
Speakerphone.
Silence.
Then a man’s voice.
Calm.
Almost friendly.
“Richard.”
Dad looked at me.
“Yes?”
“You’ve been talking too much.”
Nobody moved.
Vale continued.
“Tell Maya the blue bird should have stayed quiet.”
The call ended.
Grandma looked at me.
And smiled.
Not because she was amused.
Because Vale had just made a mistake.
A very big one.
He had called the one house in Portland where every device was now being monitored under lawful investigative authority.
May you like
And somewhere across the city, technicians had just received the first live signal from Martin Vale in days.
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