Chapter 5 - The QuarryEvery maternal instinct I possessed told me to drive to the quarry.
Every rational part of my brain told me that was exactly what whoever sent the message wanted.
We called the police.
Then I called Daniel three more times.
No answer.
Detective Elena Ruiz arrived at my house with two uniformed officers twenty minutes later.
By then, Michael had been transported to the hospital.
He had been struck from behind in Hale Development’s parking garage.
Alive.
Unconscious.
Thomas was questioned in my living room while Elise sat silently at the kitchen table.
Ruiz was in her mid-forties, compact, calm, with the expression of a woman who had heard enough lies to recognize them before people finished speaking.
She took my phone.
“When did you receive the text?”
“Twenty-seven minutes ago.”
“Does your son normally call you Mom in texts?”
“Yes.”
“Does he use punctuation?”
I stared at her.
“Usually.”
“Here there’s none.”
“He could be scared.”
“Absolutely.”
She handed the phone back.
“Or someone else has his phone.”
My stomach tightened.
“We have units heading to the location,” Ruiz said. “You are not going.”
“That’s my son.”
“And if this is a trap, your arrival gives whoever is there a second hostage.”
I hated that she was right.
Elise suddenly spoke.
“There’s another entrance.”
Everyone turned.
“To the quarry?”
She nodded.
“Charles showed it to me once. Old service road on the east side.”
Ruiz’s eyes narrowed.
“Why did Charles Whitmore take you to an abandoned quarry?”
“He wanted me to understand what happened to Robert.”
Thomas stood.
“What does that mean?”
Elise looked at him.
“He said Robert made one mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“He went somewhere alone.”
Nobody spoke.
Thomas’s face drained.
Ruiz walked closer.
“Ms. Warren, you’re going to tell me every word Charles said.”
Elise did.
Six months earlier, Charles drove her past the abandoned quarry after a meeting.
He pointed toward an old equipment building and said Robert had gone there to inspect fraudulent invoices.
“He said Robert confronted the wrong people,” she explained.
“Did he admit harming him?” Ruiz asked.
“No.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Elise closed her eyes.
“He said, ‘Robert should have known a heart can be persuaded to stop.’”
The room went silent.
My nails pressed into my palms.
Ruiz was suddenly all business.
She stepped outside and made a call.
Thomas sank into a chair.
I looked at him.
“You knew Robert was investigating Charles.”
He didn’t answer.
“You knew.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
The word nearly broke me.
“How long?”
“Two weeks before he died.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I was afraid.”
“My husband died.”
“I know.”
“You stood beside his coffin.”
Thomas began crying.
I had never seen him cry.
Not even at Robert’s funeral.
“Charles owned me by then,” he whispered. “The debts. The transfers. Everything. Robert found discrepancies and asked me about them. I lied.”
“You protected yourself.”
“Yes.”
“And Robert paid for it.”
His shoulders folded inward.
“I’ve lived with that every day.”
I wanted to scream at him.
Instead, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ruiz saw it.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
“Mom?”
Daniel.
I nearly collapsed.
“Daniel.”
Ruiz raised one finger, signaling me to stay calm.
“Where are you?”
“I’m okay.”
His voice sounded strained.
“Where?”
“I need you to listen.”
Another voice murmured in the background.
Then Daniel said, “Bring Dad’s notebook.”
Every person in the room froze.
I looked at Elise.
The notebook was on the table.
“What notebook?”
Daniel breathed hard.
“Please, Mom.”
“Who’s with you?”
“Don’t call anyone.”
“We already—”
The line went dead.
Ruiz swore softly.
“They know about the notebook.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Charles must think Robert wrote evidence in it.”
“He did,” I said.
Ruiz looked at me.
“How much?”
“I haven’t read all of it.”
She picked it up.
“Then we start now.”
For forty minutes, we turned pages.
Most contained normal business notes.
Projects.
Phone numbers.
Costs.
Then page seventy-three changed everything.
Robert had listed three shell companies.
Underneath, one sentence:
C.W. says Thomas approved. Thomas denies. Both cannot be true.
Page seventy-four:
Meeting Pierce Thursday. He says he has proof.
Page seventy-five had been torn out.
The next page contained only a number.
4271.
Ruiz frowned.
“PIN?”
Thomas stared.
“No.”
I knew immediately.
“Robert’s storage unit.”
Everyone looked at me.
“He kept old company records in a storage facility. Unit 4271.”
“Where?”
“Near the airport.”
Ruiz called officers.
Twenty minutes later, police entered the unit.
I wasn’t there, but Ruiz kept me updated.
Inside were boxes of old Hale Development records.
A desk.
A filing cabinet.
And a sealed envelope labeled:
MARGARET — IF I’M WRONG, BURN THIS. IF I’M RIGHT, PROTECT DANIEL.
When Ruiz returned with the envelope, my hands shook so badly I could barely open it.
Inside was a letter from Robert.
Margaret,
If you’re reading this because something happened to me, please do not blame yourself for not knowing. I didn’t tell you because I hoped I was wrong.
Charles has been diverting company funds for years.
Thomas helped hide some of it. I don’t know how much he understands.
Dr. Malcolm Pierce contacted me after recognizing Charles’s name on accounts connected to unusual payments from hospital vendors.
Pierce believes Charles is laundering money through medical suppliers.
I’m meeting him Thursday.
If anything happens to me, take this to law enforcement.
Do not let Charles control Daniel’s shares.
I love you.
R.
The room blurred.
Thursday.
Robert died on Thursday.
He had been going to meet Pierce.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
Four years of grief rearranged itself in seconds.
My husband had known he was in danger.
And he had tried to protect us.
Ruiz touched my shoulder.
“We have enough to open a homicide investigation.”
“What about Daniel?”
“We’re working on it.”
Then an officer hurried into the room.
“Detective.”
Ruiz turned.
“We found Mr. Hale’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“About two miles from the quarry.”
My knees weakened.
“Was he inside?”
“No.”
Ruiz looked relieved for half a second.
Then the officer continued.
“There was blood on the driver’s seat.”
I stopped breathing.
“How much?”
“Not enough to tell.”
Ruiz asked, “Any sign of forced removal?”
“Passenger door was open.”
Then he held out a clear evidence bag.
Inside was Daniel’s wedding ring box.
The one he had shown me two days earlier.
Ruiz examined it.
“There’s something inside.”
An officer opened it carefully.
Instead of Daniel’s wedding band, there was a folded scrap of paper.
Four words.
THE WEDDING STILL HAPPENS.
Everyone stared at Elise.
She whispered, “Charles wants the trust transfer.”
Ruiz shook her head.
“If Daniel is missing, there’s no wedding.”
Elise looked at me.
“Yes, there is.”
“What?”
“Charles doesn’t need a real wedding.”
She swallowed.
“He needs a marriage certificate.”
And then I remembered who had arranged all the legal paperwork for Daniel and Lauren’s wedding.
May you like
Charles Whitmore.
Our family attorney.
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