Chapter 9 - The Truth Preston Wouldn’t ReadPreston tightened his grip on the gun.
He was not allowed anywhere near it.
Detective Grant made that absolutely clear.
“You are staying in Chicago.”
“He wants something from my father’s archive.”
“And if he’s there, armed?”
“Then arrest him.”
“That’s exactly what we intend to do without putting you in front of him.”
Daniel disliked losing control.
His heart disliked stress even more.
Dr. Reid threatened to readmit him if he continued ignoring medical instructions.
So Daniel waited.
At 1:40 p.m., Grant called.
The lake house had been entered.
The basement archive had been searched.
The steel box was missing.
Preston had beaten them there.
But he had left something behind.
A photograph.
Daniel’s father.
William Mercer stood beside Preston’s father outside Great Lakes Commercial Bank.
The photograph appeared ordinary.
Until forensic technicians noticed handwriting on the back.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHY HE KEPT THE SECOND BOOK.
Daniel stared at the message.
“What second book?”
Nobody knew.
Rebecca dug through archived corporate litigation.
Marcus contacted former employees of Great Lakes Bank.
Most were retired.
Several were dead.
Finally, they found one person who remembered the case.
Helen Walsh.
Eighty-one years old.
Former commercial loan auditor.
She lived in Evanston.
Daniel spoke to her by video call.
The elderly woman adjusted her glasses.
“William Mercer?”
“My father.”
“I remember him.”
“What happened with Vale Urban?”
Helen leaned back.
“That was a terrible mess.”
“Did my father cause their collapse?”
“No.”
Daniel’s shoulders loosened slightly.
“But he uncovered something.”
“What?”
“Two sets of accounts.”
Daniel understood immediately.
Fraud.
Helen continued.
“Vale Urban was showing the bank healthy books while maintaining a private ledger reflecting debts and diverted funds.”
“Did my father keep the ledger?”
“He took a copy.”
“Why?”
“He planned to give it to federal investigators.”
“Did he?”
“I assumed so.”
Rebecca asked, “Was Mr. Vale charged?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Helen’s expression changed.
“William withdrew the complaint.”
Daniel stared.
“My father withdrew?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
The call ended.
Daniel felt betrayed by a dead man.
If his father possessed evidence of fraud and suppressed it, Preston might have discovered only part of the story.
The second ledger could prove the elder Vale caused his own company’s collapse.
Or it could prove William had participated.
Either way, Preston wanted it.
At 4:12, Daniel received a text from an unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
The steel box.
Open.
Inside was an old black ledger.
Then another message.
Your father lied to everyone.
A location followed.
An abandoned Mercer warehouse on Chicago’s south side.
Daniel immediately handed the phone to Detective Grant.
She read it.
“He wants you there.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not going.”
Another message arrived.
A photograph of a man tied to a chair.
Marcus Bell.
Daniel stood.
“When did you last see Marcus?”
Grant grabbed her radio.
Marcus had left forty minutes earlier to meet one of William Mercer’s former associates.
He never arrived.
Daniel stared at the photo.
Blood ran from Marcus’s temple.
Then Preston called.
Daniel answered on speaker.
“Hello, Daniel.”
It was the first time he had heard Preston’s voice in fourteen years.
“You hurt Marcus.”
“He interfered.”
“Let him go.”
“You always did think money made you powerful.”
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“The ledger?”
A laugh.
“I have the ledger.”
“Then what?”
“You.”
Grant motioned for Daniel to keep talking.
“Why?”
“Because your father ruined mine, and you profited from it.”
“My father discovered fraud.”
“Is that what they told you?”
“There are records.”
“There are always records, Daniel. Men like your father make sure of that.”
“What does the ledger say?”
“Come see.”
“I’m not stupid.”
“No. But you are loyal.”
Preston paused.
“Marcus has twenty-eight minutes before loyalty becomes expensive.”
The call ended.
Grant immediately mobilized tactical units.
Daniel said, “I’m going.”
“No.”
“He won’t keep Marcus alive if I don’t.”
“We’ll enter.”
“He’s expecting police.”
“He’s expecting you.”
“Exactly.”
Rebecca grabbed Daniel’s arm.
“You can barely walk across a room without resting.”
“I can walk into a warehouse.”
“And die?”
Daniel looked at her.
“I’m done letting other people pay for decisions made around me.”
Grant studied him.
Then said, “If you go, you follow every instruction.”
Rebecca looked horrified.
“Leah.”
“He’s right about one thing. Preston wants him visible.”
Daniel nodded.
Grant continued.
“We use that.”
Twenty-five minutes later, an armored police vehicle stopped three blocks from the warehouse.
Daniel wore a protective vest beneath his coat.
A microphone was secured beneath his collar.
Tactical officers moved into positions.
Grant looked directly at him.
“You do not improvise.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“I built eighty-two million dollars by improvising.”
“Tonight you’re broke.”
He nodded.
“Understood.”
Daniel walked toward the warehouse alone.
Rain fell.
The building had once been one of his first acquisitions.
He had bought it during the Vale bankruptcy.
Of course Preston chose this place.
The door stood open.
Inside, one light burned.
Marcus sat bound to a chair.
Preston stood behind him with a handgun.
In his other hand was the black ledger.
Daniel stopped twenty feet away.
“Let him go.”
Preston smiled.
“You look remarkably alive.”
“Disappointed?”
“Very.”
Marcus looked at Daniel.
“You idiot.”
“Nice to see you too.”
Preston pressed the gun toward Marcus.
“Enough.”
Daniel raised his hands.
“You wanted me. I’m here.”
Preston lifted the ledger.
“Do you know what this is?”
“My father’s copy.”
“Your father’s confession.”
Daniel frowned.
“Read page forty-three.”
Preston tossed the ledger across the floor.
Daniel picked it up.
Page forty-three contained handwritten notes from William Mercer.
Daniel read quickly.
Then stopped.
Because the truth was not what Preston believed.
William had discovered that Preston’s father had diverted millions from Vale Urban.
But he had also discovered something else.
The stolen money had been used to pay medical expenses and debts connected to dozens of employees whose pension fund was collapsing.
William withdrew the criminal referral after the elder Vale agreed to return assets and surrender the company quietly.
He had protected him from prison.
Preston’s father had not been destroyed by William Mercer.
William had saved him from public disgrace.
Daniel looked up.
“Preston.”
“Now you understand.”
“No.”
Daniel held up the book.
“You never finished reading it.”
May you like
Preston’s smile vanished.
And behind the warehouse walls, police moved closer.
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