Chapter 3 - THE SECRET INSIDE MY WALLBy morning, everyone seemed to have decided what I should do except me.
Detective Hale wanted me moved into a protected hotel.
The hospital wanted another set of scans.
Rachel wanted to disappear.
Gideon wanted his people guarding my room.
I wanted coffee.
Real coffee.
Not the watery hospital sludge somebody had left beside my bed.
“I’m going home,” I said.
Three people objected at once.
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s a terrible idea.”
I looked at Gideon, Hale, and Rachel.
“Great. Democracy.”
Hale folded his arms.
“Someone broke into your apartment last night.”
“Which is exactly why I want to go there.”
“To do what?”
“Find out what Tyler hid in my home.”
Gideon leaned against the window.
“Police can search.”
“It’s my apartment.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I have crutches.”
“You have pain medication.”
“I also have eyes.”
His mouth twitched.
Hale intervened before the argument escalated.
“We can take you there under supervision.”
Gideon said, “I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Hale exhaled.
“Why do I feel like nobody here cares that I’m law enforcement?”
“Because you’re the least frightening person in the room,” Rachel muttered.
Even I laughed.
Two hours later, I was back inside the apartment.
The place looked different in daylight.
Smaller.
Sad.
The broken plate had been bagged as evidence.
A dark stain remained on the tile.
I avoided looking at it.
Gideon noticed.
He positioned himself so his body blocked my view.
It was such a subtle act that I almost missed it.
Hale didn’t.
Neither of us commented.
The intruder had emptied drawers, overturned cushions, opened cabinets, and pulled books from shelves.
Nothing valuable was missing.
My laptop remained on the desk.
Television untouched.
Jewelry box unopened.
Whoever entered had wanted one thing.
“Where would Tyler hide something?” Hale asked.
I leaned on my crutches.
“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be hidden.”
We searched for nearly an hour.
Inside vents.
Behind photographs.
Under drawers.
The freezer.
Toilet tank.
Old shoe boxes.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the bookshelf.
Not what was on it.
What wasn’t.
One framed picture was crooked.
Tyler hated crooked things.
He could ignore unpaid bills and leave dirty dishes in the sink for three days, but a crooked picture drove him insane.
I pointed.
“That.”
Hale removed the photograph.
Nothing.
Gideon studied the wall.
“Move.”
He tapped along the drywall.
Three solid sounds.
Then one hollow.
Hale looked annoyed.
“Don’t damage anything.”
Gideon pushed his thumb against the wall.
A narrow panel moved.
“You were saying?”
Inside was a small black flash drive.
Rachel began crying again.
Hale placed it into an evidence bag.
“Nobody touches this.”
Gideon’s expression revealed nothing.
“You think it’s about me?”
“I think we’ll find out.”
A crash sounded in the hallway.
Gideon moved before anyone else.
One second he stood beside me.
The next, he was between me and the door.
His men drew weapons.
Hale’s hand went to his holster.
My pulse exploded.
Someone pounded on the apartment door.
“Police!”
Hale frowned.
“I didn’t call backup.”
That was when Gideon’s head turned.
“Get down.”
The first gunshot shattered the window.
Glass erupted across the room.
Gideon grabbed me around the waist and pulled me behind the couch.
Pain ripped through my leg.
I bit back a scream.
Hale shouted into his radio.
A second shot struck the wall.
Rachel crawled toward the kitchen.
One of Gideon’s guards dragged her behind cover.
“Shooter across the courtyard!” someone yelled.
Gideon crouched over me.
His body shielded mine.
“Look at me.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
“So are you.”
He glanced at his hand.
He wasn’t.
“That was metaphorical,” I snapped.
To my surprise, he laughed.
During gunfire.
The man was insane.
Sirens screamed outside.
The shooting stopped.
Minutes later police flooded the building.
The sniper escaped.
But the message was clear.
Someone didn’t want that drive opened.
At the precinct, technicians began examining it.
Hale made everyone wait in separate rooms.
I hated waiting.
Pain medication made the ceiling move.
Eventually Gideon entered carrying a paper cup.
I looked suspiciously at it.
“Coffee.”
“Hospital coffee?”
“No.”
I took it.
It was perfect.
“How did you know?”
“You complained about hospital coffee seventeen times.”
“It was three.”
“Seventeen emotionally.”
I smiled before remembering he was supposed to terrify me.
“Why does everyone fear you?”
He sat across from me.
“Because fear is useful.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’m giving.”
“Did you kill Victor Salerno?”
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
“Have you killed anyone?”
Silence.
That silence lasted too long.
“I spent years doing things I’m not proud of,” he said finally.
“That’s vague.”
“Intentionally.”
“Are you a criminal?”
“Depends which year you’re asking about.”
I stared.
He didn’t smile.
“My father built an organization around violence,” Gideon continued. “When he died, I inherited enemies, debts, businesses, and men who believed the only language worth speaking was force.”
“And you?”
“I learned another language.”
“What?”
“Money.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
He leaned back.
“I turned legitimate businesses into leverage. Bought properties. Acquired companies. Made certain people richer if they behaved and poorer if they didn’t.”
“So you became a businessman instead of a gangster.”
“That’s one version.”
“What’s the other?”
“A gangster with accountants.”
I almost choked on my coffee.
He smiled.
Then the door opened.
Hale stepped in holding several printed pages.
His face told me everything had changed.
“The drive was encrypted,” he said.
“But?”
“We cracked the first directory.”
He placed the papers on the table.
Bank transfers.
Company names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars moving between shell corporations.
“Most of these mean nothing to me,” I said.
“They mean something to him.”
Hale pointed at Gideon.
One company was Locke Development Partners.
Gideon studied the transfers.
“These aren’t mine.”
“Your company name.”
“Not my accounts.”
Hale nodded.
“We know.”
That surprised Gideon.
“The routing numbers belong to accounts opened using forged corporate documents.”
“Someone is laundering money through my identity.”
“Looks that way.”
I scanned the page.
Then froze.
One company name jumped out.
Whitaker Dental Management.
My employer.
“No.”
Hale pointed.
“Forty-eight thousand dollars transferred last month.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Your office manager handles payments?”
“Mostly.”
“Name?”
“Janice Bell.”
He wrote it down.
My eyes moved lower.
Then I saw another name.
LENA HARPER CONSULTING.
My hands went numb.
“What the hell is that?”
Hale leaned forward.
“That company was registered seven months ago.”
“I didn’t register any company.”
“There’s more.”
He turned the page.
An account under the same company held $312,000.
My name.
My address.
My Social Security number.
Someone had built a financial trail designed to make me look guilty.
Gideon looked at Hale.
“Tyler.”
“Likely.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
I swallowed.
“Insurance against what?”
Hale didn’t answer immediately.
Then he pulled out one final page.
A list.
Names.
Beside each name was a number.
Some were crossed out.
Victor Salerno was one of them.
So was Gideon Locke.
And at the bottom, written beside today’s date, was mine.
Lena Harper — 4:30 PM.
I checked the clock.
3:52.
“What happens at 4:30?”
Nobody knew.
Then my phone rang.
Tyler.
Calling from county detention.
Hale put it on speaker.
Tyler’s voice sounded strangely calm.
“Lena?”
“What do you want?”
“You found it.”
Not a question.
My grip tightened.
“You used my identity.”
“I can explain.”
“You broke my leg.”
Silence.
Then:
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Rage replaced fear.
“What was supposed to happen, Tyler?”
Another pause.
“You were supposed to stay out of this.”
Gideon leaned closer.
“Who hired you?”
Tyler’s breathing changed.
“So he’s there.”
“Answer.”
Tyler laughed nervously.
“You really don’t know, Locke?”
The line crackled.
Then Tyler said something that erased the confidence from Gideon’s face.
“Ask your brother.”
The call ended.
I stared at Gideon.
“You have a brother?”
He didn’t answer for several seconds.
Finally:
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
May you like
Gideon looked toward the window.
“Dead.”
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