Chapter 5 - The Family BusinessThomas Hayes answered his door in pajamas.
He looked genuinely confused to find me and Detective Coleman standing outside at six in the morning.
That made me trust him even less.
“Daniel?”
“Where’s Margaret?”
He blinked.
“My wife?”
“Yes, Thomas. Your wife.”
“She’s sleeping.”
“Check.”
His expression hardened.
“This is ridiculous.”
Coleman showed her badge.
“Mr. Hayes, please.”
Thomas disappeared upstairs.
Thirty seconds later, he returned pale.
“She’s not there.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Last night. Eleven, maybe.”
“Where did she say she was going?”
“She didn’t.”
Thomas glanced at me.
“What happened?”
“Arthur is missing.”
His reaction was small.
Too small.
“Arthur who?”
“My accountant.”
“Oh.”
I stepped closer.
“He said not to trust you.”
That landed.
Thomas looked away.
Coleman noticed.
“What do you know?”
“Nothing.”
“Try again.”
Thomas sat down.
For a long moment, he stared at his hands.
Then he said, “Margaret was always better with money than people realized.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That’s your defense?”
“No.”
He looked up.
“It’s my confession.”
The story began nine years earlier.
Margaret had inherited a small amount of money from an uncle and started trading commodities without telling Thomas.
She lost almost all of it.
Then borrowed more.
Lost that too.
By the time Thomas discovered the truth, their debts were enormous.
That was when Lauren asked me for help.
I paid off the mortgage.
But apparently there were other debts I never knew about.
Margaret began looking for another solution.
She found Eric.
Back then, Dalton-Reeves Logistics was expanding rapidly.
Eric had ambition and very little patience.
Margaret had access to Lauren.
Together, they created consulting companies.
At first, the theft was small.
Twenty thousand.
Thirty thousand.
Amounts easy to bury inside a growing company.
Thomas discovered it two years later.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“Because Margaret said Lauren was involved.”
I stopped.
“How involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thomas.”
“She said if I exposed them, Lauren would go to prison.”
“So you protected her.”
“Yes.”
“And let them keep stealing from me.”
His voice cracked.
“Yes.”
There are apologies too small for what they are supposed to repair.
Thomas gave me one.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t answer.
Coleman asked, “Where would Margaret take Arthur?”
Thomas shook his head.
Then stopped.
“There’s a cabin.”
“Where?”
“My brother owned it before he died. Margaret uses it sometimes.”
Within twenty minutes, officers were moving.
The cabin sat ninety miles north.
Arthur wasn’t there.
But evidence that he had been was everywhere.
His glasses lay broken near the fireplace.
A torn piece of his shirt hung from a nail.
And on the table was a laptop.
Destroyed.
Someone had driven a hammer through it.
Marcus examined the remains.
“Hard drive’s damaged.”
“Can you recover it?”
“Maybe.”
Coleman discovered tire tracks behind the cabin.
Two vehicles.
One matched Margaret’s SUV.
The second belonged to an older pickup.
Thomas recognized the tire brand.
“My truck.”
Everyone looked at him.
“I haven’t driven it in months.”
“Where is it?”
“Garage.”
It wasn’t.
Thomas turned white.
“Margaret has the spare key.”
The deeper we went, the stranger the conspiracy became.
By afternoon, Eric had posted bail.
That nearly sent me through the ceiling.
Coleman explained that the attempted-murder case was complicated without a clear recording of the most incriminating statements and with Lauren suddenly supporting Eric’s claim.
Lauren told investigators I had become unstable.
She claimed I attacked Eric.
She said they brought me to the overlook because I demanded to go there.
It was brilliant.
Disgusting.
But brilliant.
My wife was turning my survival into evidence against me.
At four, I returned to the company with Rebecca and Marcus.
My access card didn’t work.
I tried again.
Red light.
Security approached.
“Mr. Reeves…”
“What?”
“I’ve been instructed not to allow you upstairs.”
“By whom?”
“Mr. Dalton.”
I laughed.
“I own half the building.”
The guard looked miserable.
“There’s a board resolution.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Show us.”
The resolution stated that because of my “recent mental-health crisis,” executive authority had temporarily transferred to Eric.
Martin Hale had certified it.
Now I understood the plan.
If I died, Eric took control.
If I survived, they would portray me as unstable and take control anyway.
Elegant.
Rebecca smiled.
It was not a friendly smile.
“Wonderful.”
The guard looked confused.
“What?”
“Nothing. Please tell Mr. Dalton we’ll see him soon.”
Outside, I stared at the logo above the building.
DALTON-REEVES LOGISTICS.
My own name.
And I wasn’t allowed inside.
Marcus’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at me.
“The lab finished testing the drink.”
“And?”
“Enough sedative to make the average person unconscious within thirty minutes.”
Rebecca crossed her arms.
“That helps.”
Marcus shook his head.
“There’s something else.”
The glass contained fingerprints.
Mine.
Lauren’s.
And Martin Hale’s.
Our attorney.
Apparently Martin hadn’t merely forged papers.
He may have handled the drink intended to incapacitate me.
At 6:15, my phone received a text.
Unknown number.
IF YOU WANT ARTHUR ALIVE, COME ALONE.
Below it was an address.
An abandoned distribution warehouse on the industrial waterfront.
Coleman wanted a tactical team.
The message warned against police.
I didn’t care.
This time, I had learned.
Going alone was exactly what people who wanted you dead preferred.
At 9:00 p.m., officers surrounded the warehouse from a distance.
I entered through the front door.
Darkness.
“Arthur?”
A light came on.
Someone sat tied to a chair.
My heart jumped.
“Arthur!”
I ran toward him.
Then stopped.
It wasn’t Arthur.
It was Martin Hale.
Our attorney’s face was bruised.
His shirt was soaked with blood.
“Daniel.”
I moved closer.
“What happened?”
“Untie me.”
“Where’s Arthur?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who did this?”
“Eric.”
That surprised me.
Martin struggled against the ropes.
“He knows I was going to talk.”
“You were going to talk?”
“Yes.”
“After helping steal millions?”
“I made mistakes.”
“You drugged me.”
“I touched the glass. I didn’t put anything in it.”
Convenient.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because Eric has Margaret.”
I froze.
“What?”
“And Arthur.”
Martin swallowed.
“He’s cleaning up.”
A sound came from the far side of the warehouse.
Metal scraping.
Martin’s eyes widened.
“He’s here.”
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Not Eric.
Lauren.
My wife carried a gun.
She aimed it directly at me.
“Daniel,” she said.
Her hand trembled.
“I need you to listen very carefully.”
I stared at her.
Behind me, Martin whispered:
“Don’t believe a word she says.”
Lauren’s eyes filled with tears.
May you like
Then she said something I never expected.
“Eric killed my mother.”
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