Chapter 16 - The Price of a Child
The photograph of me had been taken from across the courthouse street.
Recent.
Close.
Someone had watched me enter.
Someone had printed it and placed it in an apartment before police arrived.
That meant the threat was not a relic of my father's death.
It was alive.
Moving.
Watching.
Detective Ortiz ordered security around me before I could object.
Two officers stayed outside my hotel room.
One followed Daniel.
Evelyn was moved to a protected location.
Victor Sloane was detained for questioning after the judge forwarded the apparent witness coercion to prosecutors.
He still denied everything.
Marlene denied knowing Lucy existed.
Nathan Voss denied knowing Evelyn had a child.
Grant Voss asked for a deal.
That was where the structure finally began to crack.
Grant was not brave.
That made him useful.
He told prosecutors that Nathan handled the forged documents.
Victor handled the relationships.
Hale handled medical records.
Marlene handled access to my father.
Grant handled surveillance, computer access, and intimidation.
"Who took Lucy?"
Ortiz asked him.
Grant swore he did not know.
Then she showed him the photograph from the apartment.
His face changed.
"That print stock."
"What about it?"
"Nathan uses it."
Nathan printed photographs on heavy matte paper for case files.
Grant said his brother kept a private printer in an off-site legal archive.
The archive was registered to Meridian Advisory Partners.
There it was again.
Meridian.
The company at the top of my father's chart.
A warrant was executed that afternoon.
The archive was empty.
Almost.
Shelves had been cleared.
Hard drives removed.
Shredded paper filled industrial bins.
But one security camera remained connected to a cloud account Nathan apparently forgot existed.
Footage showed him entering the archive two nights before my birthday.
Marlene arrived twenty minutes later.
Victor arrived after midnight.
They spent three hours inside.
Then a fourth person arrived.
A woman.
The camera caught only her back.
Long blond hair.
Gray coat.
She carried a baby seat.
Jason watched the footage with me.
He leaned closer.
"Pause."
The technician froze the frame.
Jason's face drained.
"That's Nicole's coat."
I turned toward him.
"What?"
"She wore it all winter."
"Lots of people have gray coats."
"Look at the sleeve."
A small crescent-shaped tear showed near the cuff.
Jason had repaired it badly with black thread.
I remembered seeing the coat in their car.
My stomach turned.
"Where is Nicole?"
Jason reached for his phone.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
He called the hotel.
The front desk said Nicole checked out two hours earlier.
With the baby.
Jason stopped breathing.
"No."
"No."
He called again.
Voicemail.
"She wouldn't."
His voice cracked.
"She hates Mom."
I thought of Nicole exposing the storage unit.
Nicole challenging Marlene.
Nicole appearing to side with me immediately.
Maybe all of it had been real.
Maybe none of it had.
Ortiz sent officers to locate her.
Then Grant gave us another piece.
Nathan kept people close by collecting leverage.
Debts.
Affairs.
Illegal transfers.
Custody vulnerabilities.
Anything that could turn obedience into self-preservation.
"What did he have on Nicole?"
Jason demanded.
Grant shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Think."
"I said I don't know."
Jason slammed both hands on the table.
"She has my son."
Grant flinched.
For the first time, Jason looked dangerous.
Not lazy.
Not frightened.
Dangerous.
"Jason."
I stepped between them.
"Don't give them another person to charge."
His eyes burned.
"You don't understand."
"I understand exactly what it feels like when someone uses family as a weapon."
He stared at me.
Then stepped back.
At seven that night, Nicole finally called.
Jason answered on speaker.
"Where are you?"
He almost shouted.
Nicole was crying.
"I'm sorry."
"Where is our son?"
"With me."
"Where?"
"I can't tell you."
"Nicole."
"Jason, listen."
"Nathan contacted me months ago."
Jason's face went blank.
"Why?"
"Because your mother borrowed money in your name."
"What?"
"More money."
"Not Northstar."
"Private loans."
"She used your tax information."
Jason sat down.
Nicole continued.
"Nathan said if the lenders discovered the fraud, they would come after us too."
"He said he could protect us if I gave him information."
"What information?"
Jason whispered.
Nicole cried harder.
"About Clara."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Another betrayal.
"What did you tell him?"
I asked.
Silence.
"Nicole."
"I told him when she came to the house."
"What she said."
"What documents she asked about."
"I sent pictures of mail addressed to her."
My stomach twisted.
"For how long?"
"Almost a year."
Jason stood so abruptly the chair fell.
"A year?"
"I was scared."
"You spied on my sister for a year?"
"Your mother said Clara was trying to take everything from us."
"My mother lies."
"I know that now."
"Where are you?"
Nicole inhaled shakily.
"Nathan told me to bring the baby to the archive two nights ago."
"Why?"
"He wanted pictures showing I was cooperating."
"Victor was there."
"Marlene was there."
"They talked about a girl named Lucy."
Everyone in the room froze.
"What did they say?"
Ortiz asked.
Nicole's voice dropped.
"They said Lucy was insurance."
Evelyn made a broken sound from across the secure room.
"Who has her?"
Ortiz asked.
"I don't know."
"But I heard Nathan say one place."
"What place?"
Nicole whispered.
"The old lake house."
Jason looked at me.
I knew exactly which one.
My father had owned a cabin at Lake Mercer when I was a child.
He sold it years ago.
At least I thought he had.
Rachel checked Northstar's records.
The property had not been sold.
It had been transferred.
To Meridian Advisory Partners.
The transfer date was the day after my father died.
The signature authorizing it was mine.
Forged.
The lake house was ninety minutes away.
Police units moved immediately.
I wanted to go.
Ortiz refused.
For once, I listened.
At 9:18 p.m., officers reached the property.
The front door was unlocked.
The lights were on.
A child's backpack sat on the kitchen floor.
But Lucy was gone.
So was whoever had held her.
In the upstairs bedroom, police found one thing on the pillow.
My broken laptop.
The same laptop Marlene had smashed on my twenty-fifth birthday.
May you like
And taped to the cracked screen was a note.
YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO BACK IT UP.
