Chapter 7 - The Man in the Leather Jacket
I stopped breathing.
“No.”
Marcus took my phone.
His face hardened.
“When was this sent?”
“Now.”
He called the hospital.
I could hear enough of the conversation to understand before he hung up.
Mom had been moved for imaging twenty minutes earlier.
During transport, someone wearing medical scrubs redirected the orderly.
Security was searching the building.
Mom was gone.
My knees weakened.
“This is because of me.”
Marcus grabbed my shoulders.
“This is because of the people who took her.”
“We brought the evidence out.”
“And that was the right thing.”
My phone rang.
Grant.
I answered.
“Where is my mother?”
His voice was calm.
“You have something my family needs.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“If you hurt her—”
“I have no interest in hurting an elderly woman.”
“You kidnapped her.”
“Words become complicated in family disputes.”
“Not that one.”
He laughed softly.
“Bring the originals.”
“Where?”
“You’ll receive instructions.”
“Let me speak to her.”
The line went silent.
Then Mom’s voice.
“Chloe?”
“Mom!”
“I’m okay.”
A sound.
The phone changed hands.
Grant returned.
“Two hours.”
He disconnected.
I turned to Marcus.
“We give him the documents.”
“No.”
“He has Mom.”
“And if you give him the only leverage you have, he still has Mom.”
“I don’t care about leverage.”
“You will if he keeps both.”
I hated him for being logical.
Then police vehicles moved toward the Cole building.
Grant was inside.
Or had been.
Valerie was inside too.
Mom somewhere else.
This was bigger than anything I could solve by walking into a room with paperwork.
So, finally, I stopped trying.
I gave investigators everything.
Every message.
Every photograph.
Every recording.
Every location.
Then we waited.
Waiting was worse than fear.
At 10:17 p.m., officers entered the Cole building.
At 10:29, Valerie came out.
Alive.
She was crying.
Grant wasn’t with her.
“He left before police arrived,” she said.
“How?”
“Private garage.”
“Where’s Mom?”
“I don’t know.”
Valerie looked genuinely horrified.
“I swear, Chloe. I didn’t know he would take her.”
I wanted to scream at her.
Instead, I asked the only useful question.
“What did Grant say?”
She wiped her face.
“He kept talking about Dad’s recorder.”
“What specifically?”
“He said Dad recorded something he wasn’t supposed to hear.”
Marcus stiffened.
“What?”
Valerie looked at him.
“Your voice.”
Silence.
I turned toward Marcus.
“What is she talking about?”
He said nothing.
Valerie continued.
“Grant said Marcus was there the night Dad died.”
My entire body went cold.
I looked at the man who had helped me.
Protected me.
Led me to Dad’s evidence.
“You were there?”
Marcus stared at the pavement.
“Yes.”
“You told me you didn’t know whether Dad was murdered.”
“I don’t.”
“You were there.”
“I arrived afterward.”
“How long afterward?”
“Minutes.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Your father made me promise.”
“My father was dead!”
Marcus flinched.
It was the first time I had seen him lose control.
“He was alive when I found him.”
Everything around me disappeared.
“What?”
Marcus swallowed.
“He was alive.”
“And?”
“He told me not to trust the police officer who was coming.”
“Which officer?”
“I didn’t know.”
“What happened?”
“I went to get help.”
His voice cracked.
“When I came back, your father was dead.”
A patrol officer had already arrived.
The accident was processed normally.
Marcus later discovered that officer had retired unexpectedly and moved overseas.
“Name?”
Marcus looked at me.
“Thomas Vale.”
Valerie made a sound.
“What?”
She pulled out her phone.
Opened a photograph.
The picture showed Grant entering the conference room earlier that evening.
Behind him stood an older man.
Gray hair.
Heavy shoulders.
A familiar face Marcus recognized instantly.
“That’s him,” Marcus whispered.
Thomas Vale.
May you like
The officer who had been alone with Dad minutes before he died.
And according to Valerie, he was the man who had taken Mom from the hospital.
