Chapter 5 - THE MANHUNTMilitary police met me before dawn.
My apartment was no longer considered safe.
Neither was my normal commute.
Captain Morrison pretended she wasn't shaken by the photograph Dad had sent.
I knew better.
“You don't have to apologize,” she told me.
“I brought this to your door.”
“No. Your father did.”
“He targeted you because of me.”
Morrison looked at me.
“Callahan, if I blamed victims for who criminals target, I'd be very bad at my job.”
Police moved me temporarily to a secured hotel under a different reservation name.
I hated it.
Not because of the room.
Because hiding felt like surrender.
Daniel disagreed.
“Staying alive is not surrender.”
“Easy to say.”
“Actually, yes. It is extremely easy to say.”
I glared at him.
He smiled.
It was the first time in days I had almost laughed.
Kelsey spent one night in custody before her attorney negotiated release conditions pending formal charging decisions.
I didn't understand how someone whose prints were on a possible murder weapon could walk out.
Daniel explained.
“Her attorney claims your father manipulated her.”
“She planted the gun.”
“Likely.”
“Her messages admit it.”
“They imply it.”
“She wrote, ‘They found it LOL.’”
“Jurors like nouns, Erin.”
I hated lawyers too.
Then the ballistics report arrived.
The gun hidden inside my couch had fired the bullet that killed Richard Voss.
There was no longer any ambiguity.
The murder weapon had been planted in my home.
And Dad was missing.
But the report created an unexpected development.
Whoever shot Voss had likely been standing within six feet.
Gunshot residue photographs from the original investigation existed.
So did security logs.
And one exterior traffic camera had captured several vehicles near the warehouse.
Detective Reed reopened the entire case.
She discovered Dad's truck did not arrive until twenty-seven minutes after the estimated time of death.
Mom's account had apparently been true.
Dad had robbed Voss.
But he probably hadn't murdered him.
So who had?
That question mattered to me for one reason.
If the real killer learned police had recovered the weapon, Dad wasn't the only dangerous person connected to this mess.
Richard Voss's daughter, Natalie, met investigators Monday morning.
She remembered a former employee who had threatened her father.
Cole Tanner.
He had been fired two days before the killing for theft.
Police located Tanner in Tennessee.
He initially denied returning to the warehouse.
Then investigators confronted him with traffic-camera evidence.
His story changed.
He claimed he had gone to apologize.
He found Voss already dead.
He panicked and left.
Reed did not believe him.
Neither did I.
Tanner was arrested on an unrelated outstanding warrant while homicide detectives continued building their case.
That meant my father hadn't murdered Voss.
But he had stolen evidence from the crime scene, taken money from the safe, concealed the weapon for six months, and then used it to frame his own daughter.
Somehow that almost felt worse.
Murder could happen in rage.
What Dad did required planning.
Tuesday afternoon, Tyler Boone met me at Daniel's office.
Kelsey's ex looked uncomfortable from the moment he entered.
He wore grease-stained work boots and kept twisting a baseball cap between his hands.
“I should've come forward sooner.”
“Yes,” I said.
Daniel gave me a look.
I ignored it.
Tyler nodded.
“I know.”
“When did you find out?”
“That morning.”
“The morning they broke into my apartment?”
“No. Before.”
My chair moved.
“What?”
“Kelsey told me Monday night they were going to ‘teach you a lesson.’”
“And you said nothing?”
“I didn't know about the gun yet.”
“You knew they were planning something.”
“I thought they were going to scare you about money.”
I stared at him.
He deserved anger.
But not all of it.
“Why did you send the storage-unit photo?”
“Because after they found the gun, Kelsey called me. She was laughing.”
His eyes dropped.
“She said your dad finally found a way to put you back in your place.”
My throat tightened.
Tyler continued.
“Then she told me where he'd been hiding documents. I knew that part was illegal. I figured police needed to see it.”
“Why anonymous?”
“I was scared of your dad.”
“You still came forward.”
“Eventually.”
Daniel asked, “Do you have anything else?”
Tyler hesitated.
“Yes.”
He removed an old phone from his pocket.
“This belongs to Kelsey.”
I looked at him.
“How?”
“She left it at my apartment two months ago after upgrading. She asked me to wipe it and sell it. I forgot.”
“What's on it?”
“Voice recordings.”
Daniel stopped moving.
“Kelsey records arguments sometimes.”
“Why?”
“She posts pieces online. Or used to. Family-drama stuff.”
Of course she did.
Tyler had found one recording from three weeks earlier.
Dad's voice was unmistakable.
“You don't understand, Kelsey. If Erin gets into those credit reports, we're finished.”
Kelsey:
“So what do you want me to do?”
Dad:
“She needs to remember loyalty.”
Kelsey:
“She blocked the payments.”
Dad:
“Then we give her something bigger to worry about.”
A pause.
Then Kelsey laughed.
“Like what?”
Dad answered.
“I have an idea.”
The recording ended.
It wasn't enough by itself.
But it supported everything.
Then Tyler played another.
This one had been recorded after my family returned from my apartment Tuesday morning.
Dad:
“She'll call police again if we go back.”
Mom:
“This has gone too far.”
Dad:
“It's already done.”
Kelsey:
“She didn't see me put it there.”
Mom:
“Oh my God.”
Dad:
“Then stop panicking.”
Kelsey:
“What if they don't search?”
Dad:
“We make them.”
My skin went cold.
Daniel paused the recording.
“That's it.”
“What?”
“That's the conspiracy.”
I stared at him.
He looked at Tyler.
“You need to give this device directly to Detective Reed. Do not alter anything.”
Tyler nodded.
For the first time, the case no longer depended on interpretation.
They had recorded themselves.
By evening, the district attorney's office began preparing felony charges against Kelsey.
Mom was offered consideration for cooperation but faced charges related to false statements and financial fraud.
Dad remained missing.
Until 11:42 that night.
A hotel clerk in Roanoke recognized him from a news report.
Police surrounded the property.
Dad escaped through a service exit seconds before officers reached his room.
Inside, they found cash.
A prepaid phone.
A loaded revolver.
And a printed photograph of me.
On the back, in Dad's handwriting, were four words:
SHE CAUSED ALL OF THIS.
The manhunt intensified.
Two hours later, Daniel called me.
“Your father's prepaid phone contained searches.”
“What searches?”
He hesitated.
My stomach tightened.
“Your hotel.”
My blood went cold.
“He knows where I am?”
“We don't know.”
“Daniel.”
“We're moving you.”
Military police arrived nine minutes later.
I packed one bag.
As we exited through the underground parking garage, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I showed the officer beside me.
“Don't answer.”
Then voicemail appeared.
I played it on speaker.
Dad's voice filled the garage.
Calm.
Almost gentle.
“Erin, sweetheart, I need you to understand something. None of this had to happen.”
I closed my eyes.
“You could have helped us.”
A pause.
“Instead, you chose strangers over your own blood.”
Then his voice hardened.
“So now I'm going to take away the one thing you care about more than us.”
The message ended.
The officer beside me looked worried.
I wasn't.
Because I knew exactly what Dad meant.
My career.
He wasn't coming for me physically.
He was going after the Army.
May you like
And somewhere in the eleven years of my military life was information my father believed could destroy me.
The problem was, I had no idea what it was.
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