Chapter 8 - THE BLUE LEDGER
My father had been dead for six years.
Arthur Mercer had built our company from a regional architecture firm into an international development empire.
He was demanding.
Difficult.
Proud.
But I had never believed he was corrupt.
Simon shattered that belief in less than five minutes.
"Our father created the first offshore accounts."
I shook my head.
"No."
"It's true."
"Why?"
"Bribes."
Ortiz remained silent.
Simon continued.
"Permits."
"Contracts."
"Foreign development rights."
"Sometimes he paid people."
"Sometimes people paid him."
I stared through the interview room window at my reflection.
My entire adult life had been built around Mercer.
My name was on buildings in five countries.
Now I wondered what had been buried beneath every foundation.
"Mara discovered the old accounts while auditing the company after Dad died."
Simon nodded.
"She started tracing them."
"And you restarted them."
"I needed money."
"You needed courage."
He lowered his eyes.
Ortiz tapped the table.
"Focus on Mara."
Simon took a breath.
"The ledger was our father's."
"A physical ledger?"
"Blue leather."
"Why wasn't it destroyed?"
"Dad kept everything."
"Where?"
"Private safe."
"Then how did Mara get it?"
"She found the safe key."
I thought about Scout.
Mara had always been careful.
She had known she was in danger long before she told me.
"Did Rhea see the ledger?"
"Yes."
"Why does she want it now?"
"Because Dad wrote actual names."
"Politicians?"
"Businesspeople."
"Bankers."
"Anyone who helped move money."
Ortiz frowned.
"Rhea's name?"
"No."
"Then why risk everything?"
Simon looked at me.
"Because her father's name is there."
I felt another piece fall into place.
"Who is her father?"
Simon whispered.
"Warren Voss."
The medical examiner.
The man who falsified Mara's death.
Rhea had never told me.
She had said her father died when she was a teenager.
Another lie.
Ortiz stood immediately.
"We need Voss picked up."
An officer left.
I remained facing Simon.
"Where would Rhea take Mara?"
"I don't know."
"Think."
"Rhea owns nothing under her real name."
"Think."
Simon rubbed his forehead.
"Her mother had a cabin."
"Where?"
"Lake Maren."
Ortiz stopped.
"Address?"
"I've never been there."
I pulled out my phone.
Mercer had designed properties around Lake Maren fifteen years earlier.
I searched old project records.
One parcel belonged to a company called Vale North LLC.
The name sent a chill through me.
Cedar Vale.
Mary Vale.
Vale North.
Rhea reused pieces of the same cover names.
Ortiz requested a warrant.
Simon spoke again.
"Caleb."
I ignored him.
"Caleb."
I turned.
"If Mara is at that cabin, Rhea won't be alone."
"Who else?"
Simon hesitated.
"Voss."
"Anyone else?"
"I don't know."
I walked toward the door.
Simon called my name once more.
This time his voice cracked.
"I am sorry."
I stopped without turning around.
"For what?"
"Everything."
I looked over my shoulder.
"You don't get to put everything into one word."
Then I left.
Two hours later, officers reached the Lake Maren property.
The cabin was empty.
But the fireplace was still warm.
A syringe lay in the sink.
Fresh tire tracks crossed the mud.
On the bedroom floor was a torn strip from a hospital gown.
And scratched into the wood beside the bed were three words.
HE KNOWS NOW.
May you like
Mara had been there.
She knew I was looking.
