Chapter 4 - THE DEAD BROTHERGideon’s brother had been dead for eleven years.
At least, that was what Gideon believed.
His name was Julian Locke.
Two years younger.
Brilliant, reckless, charming, and according to Gideon, born with absolutely no instinct for self-preservation.
“Julian disappeared after my father died,” Gideon explained as we sat inside a conference room at the police station. “His car was found near Lake Erie. Blood in the trunk. His watch on the shore.”
“But no body,” I said.
“No.”
“Then why did everyone assume he died?”
“Because people wanted him dead.”
Hale stood by the whiteboard.
“Including you?”
Gideon’s eyes sharpened.
“Careful.”
“It’s a legitimate question.”
“No. I never wanted my brother dead.”
“Did you two fight?”
“Constantly.”
“About the family business?”
“Yes.”
“Money?”
“Sometimes.”
“Control?”
“Always.”
Hale wrote JULIAN LOCKE across the board.
I watched Gideon.
The calm man who had faced bullets without blinking now looked like someone struggling to keep an old wound closed.
“What happened the night he disappeared?” I asked.
Gideon’s gaze shifted to me.
“He called.”
“What did he say?”
“That he had discovered something about our father’s finances.”
“What?”
“He wouldn’t tell me on the phone.”
“Did you meet him?”
“I tried.”
Gideon looked at his hands.
“He never arrived.”
For the first time, I understood why he had answered my accidental message so quickly.
Maybe he had spent eleven years wondering what would have happened if he had reached someone in time.
Hale’s phone rang.
He stepped outside.
I turned toward Gideon.
“You think Julian could be alive.”
“I think Tyler wanted me to believe it.”
“Is that different?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Tyler is afraid. Afraid men use whatever weapon they can reach.”
“Maybe.”
I hesitated.
“But when he said your brother’s name, you believed him for half a second.”
Gideon looked at me.
“You watch people closely.”
“I work in a dental office. People lie about flossing every day.”
That made him laugh quietly.
Then the conference-room door opened.
Hale came back inside.
“We found something.”
His face was pale.
“Security footage from Whitaker Dental.”
My stomach dropped.
“From when?”
“Three nights ago.”
He opened a laptop.
The screen showed our office after midnight.
Empty reception desk.
Dark hallway.
At 12:14 a.m., the rear door opened.
Tyler walked inside.
I clenched my jaw.
A second man followed.
Tall.
Lean.
Baseball cap.
His face partially hidden.
They entered the records room.
Fifteen minutes later, they left carrying two boxes.
Hale froze the image as the second man turned toward the camera.
Gideon stood so suddenly his chair struck the wall.
“What?”
He moved closer.
The man’s face was visible for less than a second.
Older than Gideon.
A thin scar along his cheek.
Same dark eyes.
Same jaw.
Gideon whispered, “Julian.”
Nobody spoke.
The dead brother wasn’t dead.
And somehow Tyler had been working with him.
Hale immediately ordered facial analysis.
Gideon made calls.
I sat there, staring at the frozen image.
“Why steal dental records?”
Hale answered without looking away from the screen.
“Maybe they weren’t after dental records.”
Our office also stored billing backups.
Insurance information.
Corporate lease paperwork.
And one other thing.
I remembered.
“The basement.”
Both men looked at me.
“What basement?” Hale asked.
“Our landlord renovated the building last year. During construction, contractors stored old file cabinets downstairs. Dr. Whitaker said some belonged to the previous tenant.”
“Who was the previous tenant?”
“I don’t know.”
Gideon did.
His expression hardened.
“My father.”
The building had once housed Locke Financial Services.
Before Gideon inherited the family empire.
Before he turned most of it legitimate.
Before Julian disappeared.
Hale grabbed his jacket.
“We’re going.”
The basement smelled like concrete, dust, and mildew.
Police searched every room.
Most cabinets were empty.
One had been forced open recently.
Inside were torn folders and a single photograph.
Two young men stood beside an older man.
Gideon.
Julian.
Their father, Dominic Locke.
Behind them was another man I recognized.
Victor Salerno.
The murdered accountant.
On the back someone had written:
THE FOUR ACCOUNTS.
Hale photographed it.
Gideon stared.
“What four accounts?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
A voice came from behind us.
“I do.”
We spun.
Dr. Whitaker stood at the basement entrance.
My boss looked twenty years older than he had yesterday.
“Doctor?” I whispered.
He closed the door.
“I hoped this would never come back.”
Hale reached toward his holster.
Whitaker lifted both hands.
“I’m not armed.”
Gideon’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you know?”
Whitaker looked at him.
“Your father came to me fifteen years ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t always a dentist.”
My mouth fell open.
Whitaker smiled sadly.
“I was an accountant first.”
“You worked for Dominic?”
“For three years.”
Gideon stepped forward.
“What were the four accounts?”
Whitaker sat on an old crate.
“Your father kept emergency funds overseas. Money nobody knew existed. Not even the government. Not even most of his organization.”
“How much?”
“At the time? About sixty million.”
I nearly dropped my crutch.
“Where is it?”
Whitaker shook his head.
“That’s the problem. The money vanished after Dominic died.”
“And Julian?”
“He discovered evidence that Victor Salerno had moved it.”
Gideon’s face tightened.
“But Victor worked for my father.”
“Yes.”
“Why would Julian disappear?”
Whitaker looked at him.
“Because your brother believed you stole the money.”
Silence filled the basement.
Gideon’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“I didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Because Victor came to me before he died.”
Everyone froze.
“When?” Hale asked.
“Three months ago.”
“What did he say?”
“That Julian was alive. That he had spent eleven years hunting for those accounts. And that recently, he found them.”
“Where?”
Whitaker looked at me.
“In her name.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“The money was hidden through a chain of dormant companies. Someone reactivated them seven months ago and began moving portions through newly created identities.”
“Mine.”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
Whitaker looked ashamed.
“Because you were convenient.”
Gideon said, “Tyler.”
Whitaker nodded.
“He needed someone with no criminal record. Stable employment. Good credit. Someone law enforcement would initially overlook.”
I felt physically sick.
“My entire relationship was fake.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
I stared at the floor.
Every birthday.
Every weekend trip.
Every apology.
Every promise.
How much had been real?
Then an alarm chirped upstairs.
Hale touched his radio.
“What is it?”
A voice crackled back.
“Detective, we have smoke on the second floor.”
Gideon’s head snapped up.
“Fire.”
We rushed toward the stairs.
Smoke rolled beneath the basement door.
Somebody had trapped us.
The hallway above was already burning.
Hale shouted for evacuation.
Whitaker coughed.
I couldn’t move fast enough with crutches.
Gideon took one look at me.
“No.”
“Don’t you dare—”
He lifted me into his arms.
“Argue later.”
“Put me down!”
“The building is on fire, Lena.”
Fair point.
We reached the rear exit seconds before flames spread across the ceiling.
Outside, firefighters rushed past us.
I clung to Gideon’s jacket, breathing hard.
Then a car across the street pulled away.
Black sedan.
Rear window lowered.
A man looked directly at us.
Gideon went motionless.
Even through smoke and distance, I saw the resemblance.
Julian.
May you like
He smiled at his brother.
Then the car disappeared.
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