Chapter 11 - The City Turned Its Eyes on Me
I did not resist.
That disappointed the cameras.
By the time police escorted me through the front gates, television crews lined both sides of the road.
Reporters shouted questions.
“Mr. Moretti, did you order Daniel Bennett killed?”
“Are you connected to the payments released this morning?”
“Is Victor Kane cooperating with police?”
The last question almost made me laugh.
Victor wasn't cooperating with the law.
He was conducting it.
From the front steps, Claire watched.
Lily stood beside her.
Someone should have taken Lily inside.
Instead she saw the handcuffs.
Her face crumpled.
“Mr. Adrian!”
I stopped.
An officer touched my arm.
“Keep moving.”
I looked back.
Lily ran down two steps before Claire caught her.
“You said you would come back!”
Every camera captured it.
I hated Victor more in that moment than I had when he kidnapped her.
“I will.”
“Promise?”
I shouldn't have.
I did.
“I promise.”
Then the police car door closed.
Detective Ortiz sat across from me three hours later.
No cameras.
No lawyers yet.
Just a table.
“You should wait for counsel,” she said.
“I have counsel.”
“Mercer?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I almost smiled.
“You suspect him?”
“I suspect everybody.”
“We have that in common.”
She opened her file.
“Tell me about the recording.”
“Fake.”
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
“We're analyzing it.”
“You'll find edits.”
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
“You sound certain.”
“I remember conversations in which I order murders.”
Ortiz studied me.
“That's not a particularly reassuring sentence.”
“Wasn't meant to be.”
She closed the folder.
“Off the record.”
“There's no such thing in this room.”
“Fair.”
She leaned back.
“I don't think you killed Daniel Bennett.”
I said nothing.
“But someone wants me to think you did.”
“Yes.”
“Victor Kane?”
“Yes.”
“Evidence?”
“A great deal.”
“Then why hasn't it reached police?”
“Because Daniel believed some police worked for Victor.”
She didn't react.
“Names?”
“One former detective. Marcus Vale.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You know him?”
“Everyone does.”
“He was at Daniel's crash.”
That got her attention.
“Proof?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“Can you give it to me?”
“Not yet.”
She stood.
“Then I can't help you.”
“I didn't ask.”
“No. People like you rarely do.”
She reached the door.
“Detective.”
She stopped.
“Judge Jonathan Hale.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“What about him?”
“Look at Kane Maritime rulings.”
“I have.”
That surprised me.
“Then we're having a different conversation than I thought.”
Ortiz left.
My new lawyer arrived.
Rachel Donovan.
Forty-two.
Former federal prosecutor.
Zero patience.
She entered the room carrying three binders.
“You look terrible.”
“Good afternoon to you too.”
“You're not speaking anymore.”
“I just spoke.”
“Practice stopping.”
Rachel reviewed the allegations.
The audio.
My father's ledger.
Daniel's crash.
She hated everything.
Which meant she was competent.
“Bail hearing tomorrow.”
“Victor will interfere.”
“He already has.”
“How?”
“Prosecution requested detention based on flight risk.”
“I'm six-foot-three and apparently recognizable enough to attract news helicopters.”
“I'll use that.”
Meanwhile, Claire did something I hadn't expected.
She went public.
At 4:20 p.m., standing outside the estate gates, Daniel Bennett’s widow faced thirty cameras.
I watched from a holding cell television.
“My name is Claire Bennett,” she said.
Noise quieted.
“My husband died almost three years ago.”
She looked terrified.
She did it anyway.
“Today people are using Daniel's death to accuse Adrian Moretti of murder.”
A reporter shouted a question.
Claire raised her hand.
“I am asking you to let me finish.”
They did.
“I have recently learned that my husband's death may not have been an accident. I have also learned that Daniel attempted to contact Mr. Moretti before he died.”
I leaned closer to the television.
“Adrian Moretti did not know my husband.”
Technically accurate.
“At least not in the way people are being told.”
Another reporter shouted.
Claire continued.
“I will not discuss evidence. But I will say this: someone kidnapped my three-year-old daughter yesterday.”
The reporters exploded.
“Was Victor Kane involved?”
“Is Lily safe?”
“Why wasn't the kidnapping reported?”
Claire looked directly at the main camera.
“My daughter is safe now.”
Then she said the thing Victor had not anticipated.
“She is safe because Adrian Moretti brought her home.”
News changed instantly.
The accused murderer had rescued the victim's child.
Contradictions attract attention.
Victor preferred simple stories.
Claire destroyed his.
Back at the estate, Gabriel and Samuel continued analyzing Daniel's files.
They found metadata proving parts of the public ledger had been altered.
Not enough to clear me.
But enough to create doubt.
Michael Grant preserved Claire and Russo's toxicology samples.
Both showed the same sedative.
A supplier record traced the compound to a Kane Maritime medical contractor.
Another thread.
Another piece.
At 9:10 p.m., Ortiz returned.
This time she brought coffee.
“For me?”
“No.”
She drank it.
I disliked her more.
“Judge Hale denied a request to search Kane Maritime offices.”
“Surprising.”
“Request wasn't mine.”
“Whose?”
“Financial crimes.”
She placed a photograph on the table.
Judge Hale entering a restaurant.
Victor Kane beside him.
Time stamp: six weeks earlier.
“Friendly city.”
“Too friendly.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Everything.”
“That is broad.”
“Start with Daniel's evidence.”
I thought of Lily.
Claire.
Gabriel.
Elias.
Samuel.
Trust had become expensive.
Ortiz saw my hesitation.
“You think I'm compromised.”
“I think everyone is.”
“Reasonable.”
“Convince me.”
She pulled out her phone.
Opened a file.
Marcus Vale's employment history.
One line was highlighted.
He had left the Chicago Police Department after an internal investigation.
Lead investigator:
Detective Lena Ortiz.
“I tried to put Vale in prison eight years ago,” she said. “Evidence disappeared.”
“Who was judge?”
“You already know.”
Jonathan Hale.
That was enough.
I told her about the laptop.
Not its location.
About Ava Reynolds.
The ledger.
Victor.
The storage fire.
Elias.
Samuel.
She listened.
When I finished, she said, “You realize half of this sounds insane.”
“My week hasn't been subtle.”
Ortiz stood.
“I'll verify what I can.”
At midnight, Rachel entered.
“Good news.”
“I'm listening.”
“Forensic audio team found splice markers in the recording.”
“When do I leave?”
“Tomorrow if Hale doesn't block bail.”
“He will.”
“Probably.”
My phone privileges included one monitored call.
I called Claire.
She answered immediately.
“Adrian.”
“How is Lily?”
“Angry.”
“At me?”
“At the police.”
Reasonable child.
“Can I talk to her?”
Claire put her on.
“Mr. Adrian?”
“Hi, bug.”
“Are you in jail?”
“Temporarily.”
“Do you have your own bed?”
“Sort of.”
“Is it nice?”
“No.”
“Do they have pancakes?”
“I haven't checked.”
Long pause.
“Are you disappearing?”
“No.”
“You promised.”
“I remember.”
“Okay.”
Then she whispered, “Mommy cried when you left.”
Claire immediately returned to the phone.
“Lily.”
“What? You did.”
I heard Claire sigh.
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then Claire's voice changed.
“Adrian, we found something.”
“What?”
“Daniel had another storage location.”
“How?”
“A charge on an old credit card.”
“Where?”
“A place called North Star Storage.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before he died.”
“What unit?”
“We don't know.”
“Don't go.”
Silence.
“Claire.”
“I know.”
“Say it.”
“I won't go.”
I knew she was lying.
Apparently Lily's honesty lessons were not hereditary.
“Claire.”
“I said I won't.”
The call ended.
At 2:17 a.m., Gabriel called Rachel.
Rachel woke me.
Claire had left the estate.
Her car was discovered outside North Star Storage.
Driver door open.
Phone on the seat.
No Claire.
On the windshield, someone had drawn one letter in the snow.
V.
Victor had taken Lily once.
Now he had Claire.
May you like
And this time I was behind locked doors.
---
