Chapter 8 - The Last Man Standing
The letter had no fingerprints.
No return address.
No usable DNA.
But the paper told them something.
It came from Vance Hospitality headquarters.
The company watermark appeared faintly beneath the ink.
Rachel Kim placed it under a forensic lamp.
“Who has access?”
“Hundreds.”
“Who has access to Joanne’s rehabilitation address?”
Mason’s expression hardened.
“Far fewer.”
The investigation narrowed to six people.
One was Emma Ross.
That surprised Mason.
Again.
Emma came into his office voluntarily.
“You think I threatened Joanne?”
“I think somebody used corporate stationery and knew where she was.”
Emma placed her phone on the desk.
“Search everything.”
“You’re not offended?”
“I’m terrified.”
That answer felt truthful.
Investigators cleared her within hours.
Another suspect was a senior board director named Graham Pierce.
Pierce had served with Mason’s father for twenty-two years.
He had been the loudest voice demanding Mason stop cooperating with federal investigators.
Rachel discovered he had called Richard forty-three times in the month before Brandon kidnapped Natalie.
Mason confronted him.
Graham did not deny it.
“You’re destroying what Charles built.”
Mason stared at him.
“Charles built a criminal network.”
“He built an empire.”
“With stolen money.”
“With money powerful men were already moving.”
Mason almost laughed.
“That’s your defense?”
“You’re young.”
“I’m forty.”
“You still think corporations survive by being clean.”
“No.”
Mason leaned forward.
“I think they survive by not imprisoning women under hotels.”
Graham’s smile vanished.
Rachel arrested him that afternoon.
But he wasn’t the letter writer.
The real answer came from Lily.
Again.
She was visiting Mason’s office after school while Joanne attended therapy.
Lily looked at a photograph of the threatening letter on his desk.
“What’s that?”
“Something boring.”
“You always say that when it isn’t boring.”
Mason turned the photograph over.
She had already seen enough.
“The letters look weird.”
“What?”
“The typing.”
“Typing?”
“The little ‘a’ leans.”
Mason stared.
Lily pointed.
“Mom had papers like that.”
“What papers?”
“From when she got fired.”
Mason stopped moving.
Joanne’s termination letter.
They retrieved it.
Same printer defect.
A faint offset on lowercase a.
Corporate facilities traced the machine.
Not headquarters.
Grand Crest administrative office.
Old printer.
Stored after Jeffrey’s arrest.
Who had access after the arrests?
Only hotel compliance staff.
And one temporary consultant.
Richard Vance.
Mason’s stomach dropped.
Again.
Richard had been allowed limited access while cooperating with investigators.
Mason called him.
No answer.
He called Rachel.
“Find my uncle.”
Too late.
Richard had checked out of his supervised apartment.
Natalie arrived at Mason’s office.
“You think Richard threatened Joanne?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“He saved Mom.”
“He also stole millions.”
“People can do both.”
“I’m getting tired of everybody in this family being complicated.”
Natalie almost smiled.
“Bad genes.”
Then Lily’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Mason’s heart stopped.
“Don’t answer.”
Too late.
Lily had already pressed the button.
“Hello?”
Richard’s voice.
“Lily.”
Mason took the phone.
“Richard.”
“I need you to listen.”
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“The letter wasn’t a threat.”
Mason laughed bitterly.
“It said Joanne should have stayed quiet.”
“It was bait.”
“For who?”
“Graham.”
“He’s arrested.”
“Yes.”
“So why disappear?”
“Because Graham wasn’t the last one.”
Mason stared at Natalie.
“Who?”
Richard whispered.
“Your father’s attorney.”
“Charles’s attorney died.”
“No.”
Everything in Mason’s life apparently had multiple definitions of dead.
“What’s his name?”
“Samuel Knox.”
Mason knew the name.
Vance Hospitality’s first general counsel.
Officially died in Mexico eight years earlier.
“Where is he?”
“San Antonio.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s been cleaning up Charles’s secrets for twenty-five years.”
“The letter?”
“I sent it knowing he monitors Joanne.”
“You endangered her to flush him out?”
“I know.”
Mason closed his eyes.
“You never learn.”
“I’m trying.”
“Where are you?”
“Old Hill Country Dairy warehouse.”
Mason froze.
The fake vendor.
The shell company.
The beginning.
Richard continued.
“Samuel is here.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“Leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
A different voice took the phone.
Older.
Calm.
Samuel Knox.
“Mason.”
“Put Richard back.”
“He’s unavailable.”
“If you hurt him—”
“What? You’ll suddenly forgive him?”
Mason said nothing.
Samuel chuckled.
“You’re so much like Charles.”
“No.”
“That’s what Anna always hoped.”
“What do you want?”
“The black ledger.”
“Federal custody.”
“I know.”
“Then you called the wrong person.”
“I called because you have something else.”
“What?”
“Your mother.”
Mason went cold.
Samuel continued.
“Anna can identify me.”
“So can Richard.”
“Richard is less sympathetic.”
Mason heard a sound in the background.
Richard groaned.
Samuel said, “Bring Anna to me.”
Mason’s voice became deadly calm.
“No.”
“Then Richard dies.”
Mason surprised himself.
“No.”
Silence.
Samuel clearly expected another answer.
Mason continued.
“My family has spent twenty-five years sacrificing one person to save another.”
He looked at Natalie.
“We’re done.”
He ended the call.
Natalie whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Calling Rachel.”
Federal agents surrounded the warehouse.
Mason did not go inside.
That was growth.
He hated it.
After thirty-seven minutes, Samuel Knox emerged with Richard at gunpoint.
Rachel spoke through a loudspeaker.
Samuel shouted that he wanted a vehicle.
Richard suddenly laughed.
Samuel snapped, “What?”
Richard said something nobody outside could hear.
Samuel looked toward him.
Richard drove his shoulder into Samuel.
Agents moved.
A shot fired.
Mason ran despite orders.
Richard was on the pavement.
Alive.
Shot through the leg.
Samuel was in handcuffs.
Richard looked at Mason.
“You came.”
“I said I wouldn’t trade Mom.”
“I know.”
“You understand?”
Richard smiled through pain.
“For once, yes.”
Mason crouched beside him.
Richard whispered, “I really did try to protect you.”
“I know.”
“I was terrible at it.”
“Yes.”
Richard laughed.
Then Mason took his hand.
It wasn’t forgiveness.
Not yet.
May you like
But it wasn’t hatred anymore.
And sometimes that was enough to begin.
