Chapter 17 - THE FATHER WHO CAME BACK|
Camille listened to the recording seven times.
Every time, the same words reached her.
Don't trust Gideon with the final page.
She wanted to believe there was an explanation. Perhaps her father had recorded the message years ago, when he did not know Gideon. Perhaps someone had edited it. Perhaps the warning referred to something Gideon had done before she met him.
But there was no mistaking the voice.
It was older than she remembered, roughened by time, but it was her father's.
Gideon stood by the window while she listened.
“Tell me what you're thinking,” he said.
“My father told me not to trust you.”
“I heard.”
“Did you know he was alive?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Gideon turned.
“Camille, I have spent sixteen years looking for him. If I knew where he was, I would have gone to him.”
“Then why did he mention the final page?”
“I don't know.”
She looked down at the blue note.
“Maybe he thinks you want the ledger for yourself.”
“I wanted the truth. I still do.”
“That isn't the same as telling me everything.”
Gideon accepted the accusation.
“You're right.”
The location in the recording led to a bend in the river outside the city. A narrow road passed an old ferry landing, now abandoned. Camille insisted on going before midnight.
Gideon arranged for a discreet team to watch the surrounding area. He did not bring armed men into the landing itself.
The air was heavy with rain when they arrived.
Camille stepped out of the vehicle.
“Dad?”
No answer.
She walked toward the old ferry shelter.
A figure stood beneath the roof.
He was thinner than the man in her childhood photographs. His hair had turned almost entirely gray, and he leaned slightly to one side as if his body had spent years carrying a weight no one else could see.
But his eyes were the same.
“Camille.”
The sound of her name broke something inside her.
She ran to him.
Her father caught her in his arms, and for a moment she was eleven again, standing in the kitchen while he explained the difference between a forged signature and a careless one.
She cried against his shoulder.
“You're alive.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You were gone for sixteen years.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”
She pulled away.
“You don't get to decide that for me.”
He nodded, tears shining in his eyes.
“No. I don't.”
Gideon remained several feet away.
Étienne looked at him.
“Gideon.”
“Étienne.”
They stared at each other.
“You're older,” Étienne said.
“So are you.”
A faint smile crossed the older man's face, then disappeared.
“You found the archive.”
“Yes.”
“And the recording?”
“Yes.”
Étienne looked at Camille.
“Then you know what happened.”
“Not all of it.”
Her father lowered his eyes.
“I need to tell you something. The ledger is only half the evidence. The final page contains the names of people who are still alive, people who have spent years buying silence.”
“Why didn't you give it to Gideon?”
“Because one of those names belongs to a man who has been protecting him.”
Gideon's expression tightened.
“Who?”
Étienne looked toward the road.
“Someone who has been standing beside you for years.”
Before anyone could ask another question, headlights appeared through the rain.
A vehicle approached without slowing.
Étienne pushed Camille behind him.
“Get down!”
The first shot struck the wooden post beside the shelter.
Gideon pulled Camille toward the ground as Tobias shouted from the road.
The vehicle stopped.
A door opened.
And a man stepped out carrying an umbrella.
It was Harold Mercer, the attorney who had given them Elena Ferraro's letters.
May you like
He looked at Étienne.
“I'm sorry,” Mercer said. “You should have stayed hidden.”
