Chapter 5 - THE DEAL MARCUS WANTEDMy daughter weighed four pounds, eleven ounces.
She spent the first week of her life in the neonatal intensive care unit beneath a knitted pink cap that was too large for her head.
I spent most of those seven days beside her incubator.
Marcus spent them trying to save himself.
His attorneys requested meeting after meeting with federal prosecutors.
He offered accounts.
Names.
Encrypted drives.
Foreign transfers.
Evidence against Martin Vale.
In return, he wanted the word murder removed from every charge associated with Rebecca Lane.
When Lieutenant Alvarez told me, I laughed.
“Of course he does.”
“He's willing to plead to kidnapping you.”
“How generous.”
“And conspiracy.”
“What about trying to kill me?”
“We're not giving him the deal he wants.”
That was the first good thing I heard that day.
My father sat across the NICU lounge, drinking coffee.
He had slept perhaps ten hours that entire week.
I pointed at him.
“And somebody needs to deal with that.”
Alvarez glanced over.
“Your father?”
“He thinks caffeine is sleep.”
Dad ignored us.
He was reading documents.
I walked over and took them from his hands.
“Go home.”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“No.”
“You're seventy-four.”
“I was seventy-four yesterday too.”
“You have bags under your eyes.”
“They're hereditary. Look in a mirror.”
“Edward Bennett.”
That worked.
Using his full name had been my mother's weapon.
He stared at me.
“You sound exactly like her.”
“Good. Go sleep.”
He reluctantly left under orders to return after six hours.
I watched him walk away.
Alvarez sat beside me.
“He's something.”
“That's one word.”
“You really didn't know what he did?”
“Nothing beyond vague government work.”
“He has a reputation.”
I turned.
“What kind?”
“The kind where criminals discover retirement isn't always retirement.”
I frowned.
“Is he in danger?”
Alvarez hesitated.
That was answer enough.
Martin Vale had disappeared.
By the time federal agents reached his home outside Washington, it was empty.
His vehicles were abandoned.
His accounts had been drained.
He knew the investigation was coming.
Worse, someone inside law enforcement appeared to be helping him.
Three sealed warrant applications had leaked.
A surveillance address had been compromised.
And a witness connected to one of the missing women vanished hours before federal agents arrived.
Vale was running.
But not blindly.
He still had eyes inside the system.
Marcus knew those eyes.
That was his leverage.
On the eighth day after Rebecca's birth, he asked to speak with me.
I refused.
Then he sent a handwritten letter through his attorney.
I almost threw it away unopened.
Instead, I read it.
Claire, I know you hate me. You should. But you don't understand what's happening. Vale will kill everyone connected to this. Your father knows that. I can help protect you and Rebecca. Meet me once. That's all I'm asking.
I read it twice.
Then walked into my daughter's NICU room and watched her sleep.
Protect Rebecca.
Marcus still used her name as if he had any claim to our child.
I ripped the letter in half.
My father found the pieces later.
“You should meet him.”
I stared at him.
“Whose side are you on?”
“Yours.”
“Then why?”
“Because desperate people reveal things.”
“You want me to manipulate him.”
“I want you to hear what he knows.”
“I spent seven years hearing what Marcus wanted me to hear.”
Dad nodded.
“Then perhaps it's time he talks while you listen differently.”
I hated that he made sense.
Two days later, I entered a secured interview room at the county detention center.
Marcus sat behind a bolted table.
No expensive suit.
No watch.
No perfect hair.
Orange uniform.
Pale face.
For several seconds, he simply stared at me.
Then his eyes filled with tears.
“Claire.”
I remained standing.
“How's the baby?”
“You don't get to ask.”
His face crumpled.
Whether the emotion was real didn't matter.
“You named her?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
I almost refused.
Then decided he deserved to hear it.
“Rebecca.”
Marcus's face went completely blank.
The room seemed to lose sound.
“You named her Rebecca?”
“Rebecca Grace Bennett.”
He lowered his head.
For the first time, I saw something in Marcus I'd never seen before.
Shame.
Real shame.
“You found her.”
“They dug underneath the cage.”
His breathing changed.
“I didn't kill Rebecca.”
“Then tell me who did.”
He looked toward the mirrored glass.
I knew Alvarez and federal investigators were watching.
“Vale.”
“Explain.”
“I was twenty-eight. Broke. I owed money.”
“To Vale?”
“To people connected to him.”
Marcus rubbed his hands over his face.
“He introduced me to Rebecca.”
My stomach tightened.
“So your relationship was planned.”
“At first.”
“At first?”
“I loved her.”
I almost laughed.
“You have an interesting definition of love.”
“I did.”
“Did you put her in that basement too?”
“No.”
“Marcus.”
“I swear.”
He leaned forward.
“Rebecca discovered what Vale was doing. He used men like me to get close to women with assets.”
My father's theory.
Marcus continued.
“Some were relationships. Some marriages. Some business partnerships. Once we got access to the financial information, Vale moved money.”
“And when the women noticed?”
His eyes dropped.
“They disappeared.”
My skin crawled.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Alvarez found six.”
“There are more.”
Silence.
“How many more?”
“Maybe twelve. Maybe twenty.”
I stopped breathing for a moment.
Marcus whispered, “I never knew the whole network.”
“What happened to Rebecca?”
“She confronted me. I told her everything.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“She wanted to go to the police.”
“So you killed her.”
“No.”
His fist struck the table.
A guard moved outside.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Vale arrived before we could leave. They argued. He hit her.”
“With the flashlight?”
Marcus's eyes filled again.
“She fell.”
“And you buried her.”
“I was afraid.”
“You buried the woman you supposedly loved underneath your house.”
“He told me if I talked, I'd be next.”
“So you married me instead.”
His silence answered.
“Was I another assignment?”
“Yes.”
The word hit harder than I expected.
I had known.
Of course I had known.
But hearing it stripped seven years of memories down to their ugly foundation.
Our first date.
Planned.
Our engagement.
Planned.
Our wedding.
Planned.
I sat down because my knees had gone weak.
“Did you ever love me?”
Marcus looked at me for a long time.
“Yes.”
“Don't.”
“I did.”
“You locked me in a cage.”
“I panicked.”
“No. You planned.”
His eyes closed.
“Vale contacted me when he learned about the trust.”
“And told you to kill me.”
“He said there was no leaving anymore.”
“So instead of protecting me, you obeyed.”
“I thought if I gave him what he wanted—”
“My money.”
“Yes.”
“He'd leave us alone.”
“Us?”
“You. Me. The baby.”
I stared at him.
“You moved your mistress into my bedroom.”
Marcus had no answer.
“Don't rewrite yourself because prison is uncomfortable.”
He looked away.
“What do you want from me?” he whispered.
“The truth.”
“I've told you.”
“No.”
I leaned forward.
“You want a deal.”
His eyes returned to mine.
“You want me to tell prosecutors you're useful. You want my father to push them.”
“Yes.”
“Then give me something worth trading.”
Marcus swallowed.
“I know where Vale keeps his ledger.”
Behind the glass, I imagined everyone moving at once.
“What ledger?”
“Every target. Every payment. Every person involved.”
“Where?”
“I'll tell your father.”
“No.”
“Claire—”
“You wanted me because I was supposedly easy to control. So here's the first lesson you've apparently missed in seven years.”
I stood.
“You negotiate with me now.”
His jaw tightened.
“Vale will kill you.”
“He already tried through you.”
“You don't understand him.”
“And you don't understand me.”
I walked toward the door.
“Wait.”
I stopped.
Marcus whispered an address.
A storage facility in Baltimore.
Unit 317.
The ledger, he claimed, was inside a locked metal case hidden beneath the floor.
I turned toward the mirrored glass.
The door opened immediately.
Alvarez entered.
“You heard?”
“Everything.”
Marcus looked terrified.
“You have to move now.”
Alvarez studied him.
“Why?”
“Because Vale checks that unit every month.”
“When?”
Marcus's face whitened.
“Today.”
Alvarez was already reaching for her phone when my father burst into the room.
He should have been behind the glass.
Instead, he looked at Marcus.
“What kind of trigger?”
Marcus stared.
“What?”
“The storage unit. Alarm? Camera? Remote sensor?”
Marcus hesitated.
Then whispered, “Pressure switch.”
Alvarez froze.
Dad swore.
“Evacuate the team.”
She called immediately.
Too late.
Her phone rang before she finished dialing.
She answered.
Everyone watched her.
Her face changed.
“What happened?”
Silence.
Then:
“Any casualties?”
My stomach dropped.
She ended the call.
“The unit exploded.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
My father stared at him.
“You knew.”
“No!”
“You knew it was trapped.”
“I knew there was a sensor. Not a bomb.”
Dad moved toward him.
The guard stepped between them.
Marcus shouted, “That's why I told you!”
“You nearly killed federal agents.”
“I tried to warn you!”
Alvarez raised her voice.
“Enough!”
Everyone stopped.
She looked at me.
“The team evacuated seconds before detonation. Minor injuries only.”
I exhaled shakily.
Then another agent entered the room.
He whispered something to Alvarez.
“What?”
She looked toward us.
“The explosion destroyed most of the unit.”
“Most?” Dad asked.
The agent held up a scorched plastic evidence sleeve.
“Fire suppression knocked a metal case through a rear partition.”
Inside the sleeve was a partially burned notebook.
Marcus stared.
The color drained from his face.
Dad stepped closer.
“Is that it?”
Marcus whispered, “Yes.”
The ledger had survived.
And on the first readable page, beside a series of account numbers and dates, investigators found a heading.
ACTIVE TARGETS.
There were three names.
Two were women I didn't know.
The third was mine.
But my name had been crossed out.
Beside it, written in red ink, were two new words:
BENNETT, EDWARD.
May you like
My father was no longer merely investigating Martin Vale.
He was next.
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