Chapter 48: Twenty-Four Hours to Confess

Nobody moved after reading the message.

The photograph had been taken less than a minute earlier.

Someone had watched them inside Locker 14.

Without being seen.

"Arthur," Victor said calmly, "seal both exits."

Arthur sprinted into the corridor.

He returned less than thirty seconds later.

"Empty."

"No footprints except ours."

"No vehicles outside."

Victor wasn't surprised.

"They wanted us to know they were watching."

"Nothing more."

Damien looked at the phone in my hand.

"Can you trace the number?"

"Already trying," Arthur answered.

"It's bouncing through encrypted relays."

"Professional."

Victor closed Nathaniel's surveillance notebook.

"We've reached the next stage."

"They're no longer hiding their presence."

"They're controlling the pace."

I looked once more at the photograph of Professor Julian Mercer.

"Then we change the pace."

"How?" Damien asked.

I turned toward him.

"By forcing someone to make a mistake."

Back at Verline, the conference room became headquarters once again.

Arthur pinned every document across a large evidence board.

Nathaniel's photograph.

The forged insurance form.

The Hawthorne Project.

Raven Capital.

Colette's false employment file.

Professor Mercer's picture.

Red strings connected almost every piece.

Almost.

One gap remained.

"What's missing?" Rose asked quietly.

Victor pointed toward the empty space in the centre.

"The person giving orders."

"We have accomplices."

"We have victims."

"We still don't have the architect."

Damien suddenly stood.

"Maybe we do."

Everyone looked at him.

"Three years ago, Nathaniel requested a private meeting with me."

"I cancelled it."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because someone told me he intended to blackmail the company."

"Who?" Victor asked.

Damien closed his eyes briefly.

"Eleanor."

Silence filled the room.

"She said Nathaniel wanted money in exchange for silence."

"So I refused to see him."

"Two days later... he died."

Victor folded his arms.

"Did you ever verify her story?"

"No."

"That was my mistake."

I watched Damien carefully.

For the first time since our marriage, he wasn't defending himself.

He was admitting failure.

Arthur's phone suddenly rang.

"It's Detective Harris," he said.

"The officer helping us reopen Nathaniel's case."

He answered immediately.

"Yes?"

His expression changed.

"When?"

"Are you certain?"

He ended the call slowly.

"Someone broke into police evidence tonight."

"What was stolen?" Victor asked.

"Only one file."

"Nathaniel Carter's original crash investigation."

"Everything else was untouched."

Victor swore under his breath.

"They're cleaning up."

"Or panicking," I replied.

"Exactly."

Rose entered carrying fresh coffee.

"Someone is asking for you downstairs, Madam."

"Who?"

"She refused to give her name."

"She said you'll recognise her voice."

Victor immediately stood.

"Nobody goes alone."

They walked together to the reception hall.

A woman stood near the entrance.

Dark coat.

Hair tied back.

Large sunglasses despite the evening rain.

The moment she heard my footsteps, she removed them.

I recognised her instantly.

"Laura Briggs," I said.

The journalist gave a tired smile.

"Thank you for coming."

"You know who I am?" Damien asked.

"Of course."

"Everyone knows Damien Ashford."

Victor stepped forward.

"Your father witnessed a forged insurance document."

"Why are you here?"

Laura's face lost all expression.

"Because my father is missing."

Nobody spoke.

"He disappeared yesterday morning," she continued.

"Before leaving, he gave me this."

She handed Victor a sealed envelope.

"He told me if anything happened... I was to find Vivian Carter."

Not Vivian Ashford.

Vivian Carter.

My maiden name.

Victor opened the envelope carefully.

Inside was a handwritten statement.

Only one page.

Signed by Detective Samuel Briggs.

Victor read silently.

His face became pale.

"What is it?" I asked.

He slowly handed me the document.

The first sentence read:

"I falsified evidence in Nathaniel Carter's crash investigation."

My hands trembled.

The statement continued.

"I did not act willingly."

"Someone threatened my family."

"I have twenty-four hours to confess publicly before they kill me."

The room fell silent.

Laura wiped a tear from her face.

"He left that on my kitchen table."

"Then he disappeared."

"Do you know where he is?"

Victor looked at the clock.

9:04 p.m.

"If this letter is genuine..."

"Then your father has less than twenty-four hours left."

I folded the confession carefully.

"Then we find him before they do."

My phone vibrated once again.

Unknown number.

One final message.

"Twenty-four hours."

"Save the detective..."

"Or bury him beside your brother."