Chapter 6 - Lauren’s ChoiceFor a second, nobody moved.
Lauren held the gun with both hands.
It looked too large for her.
“Put it down,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know who followed you.”
Martin shouted from the chair.
“She’s lying!”
Lauren swung the gun toward him.
“Shut up.”
I stepped between them.
“If Margaret is dead, where is she?”
Lauren’s face crumpled.
“I saw it.”
“What did you see?”
“Eric hit her.”
“Where?”
“The cabin.”
She swallowed hard.
“She wanted out.”
That almost made me laugh.
“After three years?”
“Longer.”
“What?”
Lauren looked at Martin.
“Tell him.”
Martin stared at the floor.
“Tell me what?”
Lauren’s voice became quiet.
“This didn’t start three years ago.”
My stomach sank.
“How long?”
“Twelve.”
Dalton-Reeves had existed only thirteen years.
Lauren continued.
“Eric was taking money almost from the beginning.”
“How?”
“Fuel rebates. Cash contracts. Fake mileage reports.”
“Why did your mother help him?”
“She didn’t at first.”
Martin finally spoke.
“Eric was paying Margaret.”
“For what?”
“Information.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
The room felt colder.
Lauren lowered the gun slightly.
“My mother knew when you were traveling. Which contracts were coming. Which vendors you trusted. She gave Eric everything.”
“And you?”
Lauren started crying.
I felt nothing.
Not yet.
“At first, nothing. I swear.”
“When did you start?”
“Four years ago.”
“And sleeping with him?”
She closed her eyes.
“Eight months.”
Eight months.
Oddly, that detail hurt more than the money.
Maybe because money was numbers.
The affair had memories attached to it.
Birthdays.
Dinners.
Nights she said she was tired.
Weekend trips she canceled.
All rewritten instantly.
“Why?”
She had no good answer.
People rarely do.
“I was angry.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“You were never home.”
I stared at her.
“I was building the company that paid for everything.”
“I know.”
“You wanted the house.”
“I know.”
“The trips.”
“I know.”
“Your parents’ mortgage.”
“I KNOW!”
Her scream echoed through the warehouse.
Then she broke.
“I know.”
Silence.
Finally, she whispered, “Eric made me feel like you were the problem.”
“No. Eric didn’t make you kiss him.”
She flinched.
“He didn’t make you steal from me.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t make you help drag me toward a cliff.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“I know.”
There it was.
No excuse left.
Only guilt.
“Why are you here?”
“Because Eric lost control.”
She explained.
After our confrontation at Northpoint, Margaret wanted to surrender.
Eric refused.
Arthur had apparently discovered a second set of accounting records Margaret maintained as protection.
The master ledger.
Names.
Accounts.
Payments.
Dates.
Even recordings.
Margaret believed evidence was insurance.
Eric viewed it as a death sentence.
At the cabin, they argued.
Eric struck Margaret with a fireplace tool.
Lauren claimed her mother was still breathing when Eric took her away.
“So you don’t know she’s dead.”
“I saw the blood.”
“Where is Arthur?”
“Eric moved them both.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Martin spoke.
“I might.”
Lauren aimed the gun again.
“Why didn’t you say that?”
“Because I’d prefer not to be shot.”
I untied him.
Martin rubbed his wrists.
“There’s an old cold-storage facility near the rail yard. Eric owns it through one of the shell companies.”
Lauren stared.
“How do you know?”
“I created the company.”
Of course he did.
Police entered moments later.
Lauren dropped the gun immediately.
Coleman handcuffed her.
She didn’t resist.
As an officer led her past me, she stopped.
“Daniel.”
I looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I loved you.”
“That’s what makes it worse.”
She lowered her head.
Then she was gone.
The raid on the cold-storage facility began at 11:40 p.m.
I wasn’t allowed inside.
This time, I didn’t argue.
Twenty-one minutes later, paramedics arrived.
Then another ambulance.
Coleman came toward me.
“We found Arthur.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“And Margaret?”
Coleman hesitated.
“Alive.”
Lauren had been wrong.
Eric hadn’t killed her.
But Margaret was in critical condition.
Arthur had a broken wrist, two cracked ribs and a concussion.
At the hospital, he looked terrible.
But when I walked into his room, he smiled.
“I told you to follow the numbers.”
“You also told me not to trust Thomas.”
“That too.”
“Why?”
Arthur explained that Thomas had secretly been paying money into one of Margaret’s accounts for years.
Not because he was part of the theft.
Because he was trying to replace what she stole.
“He thought if he quietly repaid enough, nobody would notice.”
“That may be the dumbest financial strategy I’ve ever heard.”
Arthur laughed, then winced.
“It was surprisingly dumb.”
“Where’s the ledger?”
His smile disappeared.
“I don’t have it.”
“You said you found it.”
“I found where Margaret kept it.”
“Where?”
“Safe-deposit box.”
“Which bank?”
“She never told me.”
“But Eric thinks you know.”
“Yes.”
That explained the kidnapping.
Margaret regained consciousness the next morning.
Coleman questioned her briefly.
She gave one piece of useful information before doctors stopped the interview.
The bank.
Unfortunately, when detectives reached it, the box was empty.
Someone had arrived the previous afternoon with proper identification and removed the contents.
Security footage showed a woman wearing sunglasses.
Not Lauren.
Not Margaret.
I watched the video three times.
Something about her seemed familiar.
Then Marcus enlarged the image.
Rebecca stared at the screen.
“Oh my God.”
I recognized her too.
Monica Dalton.
Eric’s ex-wife.
The woman he claimed hated him.
She had the master ledger.
And according to airline records Marcus uncovered an hour later, Monica had booked a one-way flight to Switzerland.
Departure time:
May you like
6:45 p.m.
We had less than four hours.
