Chapter 6 - GABRIEL’S OWN BLOODGabriel stared at the photograph long enough for Helena to realize something was seriously wrong.
The man beside Rose Mercer had Gabriel’s eyes.
Older.
Harder.
But unmistakably related.
“Who is he?”
Gabriel didn’t answer immediately.
“My father.”
Helena looked from Gabriel to the photograph.
“I thought your father died.”
“He did.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
The photograph had been taken twelve years earlier.
One year before Gabriel’s father, Anton Voss, was killed in what police described as a gang dispute.
Gabriel had always believed the story.
Now he wasn’t sure.
Agent Brooks took the photograph.
“Why would Anton Voss be meeting with Rose Mercer?”
Gabriel’s voice became distant.
“I don’t know.”
Victor arrived from Chicago that evening.
When Gabriel showed him the picture, Victor cursed.
“You’ve seen this before?”
“No.”
“Did Anton ever mention Rose?”
“No.”
Victor frowned.
“What about Mercer Infrastructure?”
Gabriel shook his head.
Anton had operated nightclubs, shipping companies, warehouses, and various enterprises investigators liked to describe with euphemisms.
But construction had never been part of his portfolio.
At least, Gabriel had believed that.
They opened Rose’s ledger.
Most pages contained numbers.
Contract identifiers.
Payments.
Initials.
Dates.
But the final pages contained handwritten notes.
One appeared repeatedly.
A.V.
Anton Voss.
Gabriel’s stomach tightened.
Helena watched him.
“What does it say?”
He read silently.
Then again.
ANTON REFUSED PAYMENT. SAYS HE WILL TESTIFY IF NECESSARY.
Another entry:
A.V. BELIEVES C. AND D. RESPONSIBLE FOR KEPLER INCIDENT.
And finally:
ANTON AGREES WE MUST GO TO FEDERAL AUTHORITIES.
Two weeks later, Rose died.
Eleven months after that, Anton Voss was killed.
Gabriel closed the book.
For twenty years, he had believed his father died because of the world he had chosen.
Maybe he had died trying to leave it.
Naomi asked:
“Who was Kepler?”
A search produced the answer.
Thomas Kepler.
City procurement inspector.
Killed in a home invasion thirteen years earlier.
No arrests.
Every thread led back toward the same people.
Charles.
Damian.
Public contracts.
Missing money.
Deaths.
Helena looked toward Gabriel.
“Our families have been tied together for years.”
“Apparently.”
“Did your father know my grandmother?”
“More than I knew.”
Gabriel left the room.
Helena followed.
“Gabriel.”
“I need air.”
They stepped onto the hospital parking structure.
The city lights glowed in the distance.
“You don’t have to pretend this doesn’t affect you.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You haven’t changed expression in ten minutes.”
“That is my expression.”
Helena almost smiled.
Then Gabriel said:
“My father wasn’t a good man.”
She waited.
“He loved his family. He also hurt people.”
“You can love someone and still know what they were.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“You’ve learned that quickly.”
“My father gave me lessons.”
They stood together in silence.
Finally Gabriel said:
“If Anton was planning to testify, someone knew.”
“Damian?”
“Maybe Charles.”
“Would my father kill someone?”
Gabriel looked at her.
Helena nodded slowly.
“Right. Evidence.”
The next clue came from the flash drive.
Encrypted files.
Federal technicians cracked the first folder overnight.
Invoices demonstrated more than $240 million diverted through shell companies over fourteen years.
A second folder contained audio recordings.
Rose Mercer had secretly recorded conversations.
The first one changed everything.
Her voice came through the speakers.
“Charles, if you continue protecting Damian, someone is going to die.”
Charles answered.
“You don’t understand the people involved.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, Mother. You don’t.”
Then another voice.
Anton Voss.
“She understands better than you think.”
Gabriel leaned closer.
His father’s voice.
He had not heard it in eleven years.
Anton continued.
“I have names. Routes. Payments. Everything.”
Charles replied:
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
Anton laughed.
“Maybe.”
Rose said, “Then we go together.”
The recording ended.
The room remained silent.
Helena looked at Gabriel.
He looked almost pale.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was the most vulnerable answer she had heard from him.
She touched his hand.
Gabriel did not pull away.
The second recording was worse.
Damian’s voice.
You’re both making a mistake.
Rose responded.
Is that a threat?
Damian laughed.
Consider it advice.
Gabriel clenched his jaw.
Helena stared at the speaker.
The charming man she had married was eighteen years younger in the recording, yet his voice contained the same controlled arrogance she knew too well.
Naomi paused the audio.
“We can work with this.”
“Work with it?” Helena asked.
“It demonstrates motive and conspiracy, but it doesn’t prove homicide.”
Gabriel looked toward the ledger.
“Keep listening.”
They did.
Recording four.
Recording five.
Then number six.
Charles and Rose arguing.
“You don’t know Damian,” Charles said.
“I know exactly what he is.”
“He has information on Anton.”
“What information?”
“That his daughter’s disappearance wasn’t voluntary.”
Gabriel stopped breathing.
Helena turned toward him.
His sister.
Isabelle.
The recording continued.
Rose asked:
“What does Damian know?”
Charles lowered his voice.
“He knows who took her.”
Gabriel stood so suddenly his chair fell backward.
Victor went pale.
The recording kept playing.
Rose:
“Then tell Anton.”
Charles:
“If I tell Anton, Damian releases everything.”
Rose:
“What everything?”
Charles:
“Enough to destroy us all.”
Gabriel walked toward the door.
Helena caught him.
“Where are you going?”
“To Damian.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
The warmth she had seen disappeared.
“This is about my sister.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know what that means.”
“Yes, I do.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I spent six months wanting to destroy Damian with my own hands.”
That stopped him.
“And if you go downstairs and attack him, he wins.”
Gabriel’s breathing slowed.
“He knows where Isabelle is.”
“Then make him talk.”
“How?”
“The same way you told me.”
Gabriel stared.
“Evidence matters.”
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Gabriel picked up the fallen chair.
Victor exhaled.
“Remind me never to argue with her.”
Helena almost smiled.
Naomi replayed the recording.
This time they heard something everyone had missed.
Background noise.
A train announcement.
Then church bells.
Victor recognized the pattern.
“That recording wasn’t made in Chicago.”
Naomi looked over.
“How do you know?”
“Those bells.”
He searched his phone.
“There’s a monastery near Lake Geneva with that exact sequence.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“You’re sure?”
“My mother dragged me there every Easter.”
Within an hour, investigators found property records.
A private estate near Lake Geneva had been purchased fourteen years earlier by a shell company.
The same company that had paid Detective Pike.
And the registered agent?
Damian Cross.
Gabriel stared at the address.
Helena saw the thought forming.
“You think Isabelle might have been kept there.”
Gabriel grabbed his coat.
Agent Brooks blocked the door.
“Nobody goes without a warrant and tactical support.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“You have one hour.”
Naomi crossed her arms.
“That isn’t your decision.”
“No.”
His voice was deadly calm.
“But if you take longer, I’ll make another one.”
Fifty-two minutes later, a federal convoy was heading toward Wisconsin.
At the estate, they found no people.
But beneath the main house was a hidden room.
Inside were old restraints.
Photographs.
Files.
And carved into one wall, almost invisible beneath layers of paint, were two words.
GABE.
ALIVE.
Gabriel touched the letters.
May you like
His sister had been there.
And she had survived long enough to leave him a message.
Related Stories
