Chapter 8 - A Lie Buried at the South Docks
Tomas refused to fly.
Too many cameras.
Too many records.
They drove.
Ruth.
Tomas.
And an attorney named Rebecca Shaw, the woman Agnes had trusted with one copy of the drive.
Rebecca spent most of the trip making calls.
By the time they reached Chicago, she had filed an emergency petition requesting a stay of execution.
The prosecutor's office responded within hours.
The evidence was “untested.”
The witness was “unreliable.”
The allegations were “untimely.”
Rebecca slammed her phone onto the dashboard.
“They're going to fight.”
Ruth looked at Tomas.
“Why?”
“Because admitting this could mean the original investigation was corrupted.”
“Even if an innocent man dies?”
Rebecca glanced at her.
“Systems defend themselves.”
Tomas spoke quietly.
“Salvatore isn't innocent.”
Ruth turned.
“No.”
“He ran the docks.”
“I know.”
“He ordered beatings.”
“I know.”
“He destroyed lives.”
“I know.”
Tomas looked surprised.
Ruth continued.
“But he did not kill my family.”
That distinction had become essential.
Not because Ruth had forgiven Salvatore.
Not yet.
But because truth mattered even when the person benefiting from it was flawed.
Especially then.
They met with federal investigator Daniel Mercer.
Not connected to Miguel.
No relation.
Mercer had been recommended by Rebecca.
He listened to Tomas.
Then examined the USB.
“This could reopen everything.”
“Can it stop the execution?” Ruth asked.
“If authenticated.”
“How long?”
“Days.”
“We don't have many.”
Mercer looked grim.
“I know.”
Then Tomas mentioned Harlan Voss.
Mercer's expression changed.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Detective Voss?”
“Yes.”
Mercer leaned back.
“That creates a problem.”
“What?”
“Voss is now deputy chief.”
Ruth felt sick.
The man who allegedly leaked Tomas's identity to Caruso had been promoted.
Mercer continued.
“If Voss is involved, we do this quietly.”
“How?”
“Start with the docks.”
That night they entered an abandoned warehouse once controlled by Salvatore.
Tomas remembered a hidden office.
Inside, dust covered everything.
But behind one wall panel they found an old safe.
The code was unknown.
Ruth called Stateville.
Salvatore came to the phone.
“Warehouse fourteen,” she said.
Silence.
“What are you doing there?”
“Looking for proof.”
“You shouldn't be there.”
“Safe code.”
“No.”
“Salvatore.”
“No.”
“Tomas is with me.”
Silence.
Then:
“He came?”
“Yes.”
Salvatore breathed.
“Is Elena safe?”
“Yes.”
“Her son?”
“Yes.”
“Safe code.”
Salvatore finally answered.
“0417.”
Ruth frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“My mother's birthday.”
The safe opened.
Inside were ledgers.
Photographs.
A handgun.
And an old tape recorder.
Tomas picked it up.
“I've seen this.”
“Where?”
“Rafael used it.”
Rebecca pressed play.
Static.
Then voices.
Rafael.
Caruso.
Rafael said, “Salvatore knows.”
Caruso answered, “Then Salvatore disappears.”
Another voice laughed.
Ruth recognized it from television.
Harlan Voss.
“Leave that part to me.”
Ruth's skin prickled.
The recording continued.
Caruso:
“What about the accountant?”
Voss:
“Accidents happen.”
Rafael's breathing became audible.
He had secretly recorded them.
Then Caruso said something worse.
“If Bianke won't become the monster we need, we'll manufacture one.”
The tape ended.
Nobody moved.
Rebecca whispered, “This is enough.”
Mercer shook his head.
“No.”
Ruth stared.
“What do you mean no?”
“Defense attorneys will claim chain-of-custody issues.”
“We found it in Salvatore's warehouse.”
“Exactly.”
“So?”
“So the state will argue Salvatore created it.”
Tomas slammed his fist against the table.
“He's going to die while lawyers argue about tape?”
Mercer looked at the gun.
“Maybe not.”
He lifted it carefully.
“What?”
“This weapon is old.”
Rebecca frowned.
“And?”
Mercer examined the markings.
“If this is one of the firearms connected to the grocery-store shooting, ballistics can tell us.”
Ruth stared at it.
Police had said both murder weapons were recovered years ago.
If this was a third weapon—
Then someone had lied.
Mercer bagged it.
“We need the lab.”
A sound came from outside.
Metal scraping.
Everyone froze.
Mercer drew his service weapon.
“Stay here.”
The lights went out.
Tomas whispered, “Not again.”
Then flames appeared beneath the warehouse door.
Rebecca shouted, “Fire!”
Smoke filled the room.
Someone had locked them inside.
Ruth coughed.
Mercer kicked the side door.
Nothing.
Tomas grabbed a chair and smashed a window.
They climbed through one by one.
Ruth was last.
As she dropped outside, the warehouse erupted behind her.
Fire consumed the evidence they had not carried out.
Across the street, a black sedan pulled away.
Mercer stared after it.
Ruth knew the shape.
The photograph from Salvatore's trial.
Same model.
And on the rear window—
a white falcon.
Vincent Caruso was no longer hiding.
He was warning them.
May you like
And the closer they came to the truth, the more dangerous he became.
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