Chapter 10 - THE NIGHT PRESTON DISAPPEARED|
The call ended before Camille could ask another question.
Gideon was already moving.
“Tobias. Get the car.”
Camille followed him toward the elevator.
“You're not leaving me behind.”
“Preston is not your responsibility.”
“He has a file with my father's name.”
“And he may be bait.”
“Then we go prepared.”
Gideon looked at her for a long moment before nodding.
They reached Whitfield and Associates just before midnight. The lobby was dark except for the security lights. A receptionist's desk stood empty, and the elevator doors were open on the sixth floor.
Tobias moved ahead.
Gideon kept Camille behind him.
Preston's office door hung partly open.
Inside, papers covered the floor. One desk drawer had been pulled out and emptied. A framed photograph of Preston with his father lay broken beneath a chair.
Preston was gone.
Camille spotted a dark smear on the carpet.
“Blood,” she whispered.
Gideon crouched and examined it.
“Not much.”
Tobias found a phone beneath the desk. Its screen was cracked, but the last message remained visible.
Bring the girl to the river. Come alone.
Camille's stomach tightened.
“He means me.”
“He wants you to think that,” Gideon said.
A second message appeared on the screen.
It came from a number Tobias recognized.
“It's Sloane,” he said. “He sent a location.”
The address led to a disused warehouse near the riverfront. Gideon contacted two trusted officers and arranged for them to approach from the opposite side. He did not intend to enter blindly.
Camille sat in the back seat, gripping the edge of her coat.
“Why would Preston have my father's file?”
“Because his firm handled our old legal accounts. Salvatore used them to move documents between shell companies.”
“Did Preston know?”
“Maybe not at first.”
“And now?”
Gideon glanced at her.
“Now he knows enough to be afraid.”
The warehouse stood beside a row of rusted loading docks. A single light burned above the entrance. Gideon and Tobias entered first. Camille remained near the vehicle until a distant crash made her turn.
A man emerged from the side door.
Preston.
His shirt was torn, and his lower lip was bleeding. He stumbled toward the car, clutching a thick folder against his chest.
Camille rushed to meet him.
“Preston!”
He grabbed her wrist.
“Don't let him take it.”
Gideon reached them.
“Let her go.”
Preston released her.
“They know where the ledger is,” he said. “Sloane knows everything.”
“Where is the file?” Gideon asked.
Preston held it out.
“Here.”
Gideon opened the folder. Inside were copies of old shipping manifests, legal transfers, and a photograph of Étienne Tibido standing beside Salvatore Ferraro.
Camille stared at the image.
Her father looked younger, but his expression was unmistakable.
“Why was he with him?”
Preston swallowed.
“Because your father was hired to authenticate the original documents. He found out they were fake. Salvatore paid him to keep quiet.”
Camille felt the ground shift beneath her.
“My father would never take money to hide a crime.”
“He refused,” Preston said. “That's why they went after him.”
A shot cracked from the warehouse.
Gideon pulled Camille behind the car.
Tobias returned fire from the loading dock.
Preston dropped to the ground.
“Get down!” Gideon shouted.
The exchange lasted only seconds, but when the silence returned, the warehouse entrance was empty.
Gideon helped Camille stand.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
Preston was still on the ground, clutching his side.
Camille knelt beside him.
“Stay still.”
He looked at her with frightened eyes.
“I didn't know they would do this.”
“You knew enough to call me.”
“I thought I could bargain.”
“You always think everything can be bought.”
His face crumpled.
“I’m sorry.”
Camille did not forgive him. Not then.
But she pressed her coat against his wound until the ambulance arrived.
As the paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher, Preston grabbed her hand.
“There's one more thing.”
“What?”
He looked past her at Gideon.
“The person who gave Sloane the file wasn't Adrian.”
Camille frowned.
“Who was it?”
Preston's lips moved.
May you like
Then he whispered a name.
“Rosalind Ashmore.”
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