Chapter 3 - THE LEDGER
My father refused to speak inside St. Mary's.
He said the building was compromised.
We drove to a small motel forty miles away.
Vincent ordered two rooms.
My father objected.
“No.”
Vincent looked at him.
“What?”
“No motel.”
“Why?”
“Because they know about this place.”
Hart frowned.
“Who?”
Daniel looked at him.
“The Marlowe family isn't the only organization that knows about the ledger.”
I felt cold.
“What ledger?”
My father sat on the edge of the motel bed.
“The Black Ledger.”
The name sounded almost ridiculous.
Until I saw Vincent's expression.
He knew it.
“You've heard of it,” I said.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
Daniel rubbed his hands together.
“Twelve years ago, I worked for Vincent's father. I handled financial records for several legitimate companies.”
“And the illegal ones?”
Vincent's eyes hardened.
“My father had businesses I knew nothing about.”
Daniel nodded.
“That's what I believed.”
He reached into his coat.
He removed a small photograph.
It showed six men standing around a table.
One was Vincent's father.
Another was a judge.
Another was a police commissioner.
The others were wealthy businessmen.
I recognized two of them from television.
“Everyone in this photograph eventually became connected to the Black Ledger.”
“What does it contain?”
“Payments.”
“To whom?”
“Judges. Politicians. Police officers. Prosecutors. Union leaders.”
My mouth went dry.
“And Vincent?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Vincent was the one person who wasn't supposed to know.”
Vincent's expression changed.
“I knew my father was corrupt.”
“You didn't know how far it went.”
“No.”
My father nodded.
“That's why they tried to kill you.”
I looked at Vincent.
“What?”
Daniel continued.
“Vincent discovered that his father was laundering money through charities and construction companies. He confronted him.”
Vincent said nothing.
“When was this?”
“Twelve years ago.”
The same year my father disappeared.
I stared at Vincent.
“What happened?”
“My father tried to have me killed.”
The words were flat.
Cold.
“I survived.”
“And my father?”
“Helped me.”
Daniel looked down.
“I gave Vincent evidence.”
“Then why did you disappear?”
“Because I realized the evidence wasn't enough.”
He pulled a small key from around his neck.
“I copied everything.”
Vincent stared at it.
“What does it open?”
“A vault.”
“Where?”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“You're asking the wrong question.”
“What is the right one?”
“Who built it?”
Nobody spoke.
My father looked at me.
“Your mother knew.”
I froze.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“She wasn't just your father's wife.”
“What was she?”
Daniel's expression changed.
“An informant.”
Vincent went completely still.
“She worked with federal investigators.”
I felt dizzy.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“She would never—”
“She did.”
My father sighed.
“She was trying to protect you.”
I remembered my mother's strange rules when I was a child.
Never answer the door.
Never tell strangers where your father worked.
Never use the family name when traveling.
I had thought she was simply anxious.
Maybe she had been terrified.
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed from outside.
Vincent stood immediately.
“Down.”
The window shattered.
I dropped to the floor.
Gunfire ripped through the motel wall.
Vincent pulled me behind the bed.
Hart drew his weapon.
Daniel crawled toward the bathroom.
More bullets struck the room.
“Back exit!” Vincent shouted.
We moved.
Vincent pushed me ahead of him.
Hart covered Daniel.
We reached the bathroom window.
Vincent smashed the glass.
“Go.”
I climbed through.
Daniel followed.
Hart jumped.
Vincent came last.
We ran into the rain.
A black SUV screamed around the corner.
Vincent fired twice.
The SUV accelerated away.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Daniel grabbed my wrist.
“Did they see you?”
“I don't know.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Your father wasn't the reason they came.”
My blood froze.
“Then who?”
Daniel looked at Vincent.
“They came for her.”
Vincent's face became frighteningly calm.
“Why?”
Daniel reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small memory card.
“This.”
Vincent stared.
“What is it?”
“The final piece of the ledger.”
I stared at the tiny object.
“What does it contain?”
Daniel swallowed.
“The names of everyone still alive.”
“Everyone?”
“The men who ordered the disappearances.”
My stomach tightened.
“And who is the first name?”
Daniel looked at Vincent.
Then at me.
May you like
“Evan Marlowe.”
Everything stopped.
