Chapter 7: The Billionaire Who Never Died
Marcus stared at the photograph.
His father's face looked older, but there was no mistaking him.
The same sharp jaw.
The same deep-set eyes.
The same expression that appeared in every portrait hanging inside the Grand Meridian.
Robert Whitmore was alive.
And he had Evelyn.
Marcus stepped backward.
"No.""
My father placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Marcus.""
"That's my father.""
"I know.""
"He's been alive all this time?""
"Yes.""
Marcus looked at the photograph again.
Then he threw the tablet onto the desk.
"Why?""
My father didn't answer.
I stepped between them.
"Marcus, we need to find my sister and your mother.""
He looked at me.
The anger in his eyes slowly gave way to something else.
Fear.
He nodded.
"You're right.""
Paul approached.
"We can track the image metadata. It was taken less than five minutes ago.""
"Where?""
"Inside the warehouse.""
My father shook his head.
"That's what they want us to believe.""
Marcus looked at him.
"What do you mean?""
"Robert knows how surveillance works. He'll send us an image from one location while keeping the hostages somewhere else.""
Paul nodded.
"He's right.""
Marcus turned toward him.
"Can you trace the phone?""
"Possibly.""
Paul took out his own device.
While he worked, I looked at the photograph again.
Evelyn's expression was strange.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't looking at the camera.
She was staring at something outside the frame.
I enlarged the image.
Her right hand rested against the chair.
Two fingers were extended.
My father noticed.
"What's that?""
I leaned closer.
"She's making a sign.""
Marcus looked at the photograph.
"What sign?""
I examined her hand.
Then I remembered something Evelyn had said on the rooftop.
She had once worked as a volunteer at a women's shelter. I'd heard her mention it during a staff meeting when she thanked the housekeeping department for donating supplies.
She had taught employees a simple distress signal.
Two fingers.
A warning that someone was in danger and couldn't speak.
"She's telling us she's being held against her will.""
Marcus nodded.
"Can we identify where?""
Paul enlarged the background.
A gray wall.
A metal door.
A clock.
And a small window.
My father stared at the window.
"I know that place.""
He pointed.
"That's the old Whitmore textile warehouse.""
Marcus looked confused.
"We don't own a textile warehouse.""
"We did. Robert sold it through a shell company years ago.""
Paul checked the address.
"There's an industrial property matching that description near the airport.""
I looked at Marcus.
"That's where the SUV was parked.""
He nodded.
"Then that's where we go.""
My father shook his head.
"Not directly.""
Marcus frowned.
"Why?""
"Because Robert will be waiting.""
I stepped forward.
"Then what's the alternative?""
My father opened the ledger.
He flipped through several pages.
Then he stopped at an entry marked with a red line.
"Robert has been moving money through a private security company.""
Marcus leaned closer.
"Which one?""
"Calder Protection Services.""
Paul looked up.
"That's the company contracted to protect the Whitmore estate.""
Marcus went still.
"Our security company?""
My father nodded.
"Robert owns it through another subsidiary.""
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Marcus laughed bitterly.
"My father has been paying people to protect us from him.""
My father closed the ledger.
"Exactly.""
Paul took out his phone.
"I know two officers who aren't connected to Calder. I'll contact them.""
Marcus shook his head.
"Do it quietly.""
Paul walked into the hallway.
I turned toward my father.
"How long have you known Robert was alive?""
He looked down.
"Since last year.""
"Last year?""
"I received a letter from him. He told me to stay away from the company and never contact Evelyn again.""
"And you obeyed?""
My father closed his eyes.
"I had no choice.""
I felt anger rising.
"You always had a choice. You could have come home.""
His voice broke.
"I thought they would kill you.""
I shook my head.
"You let us believe you were dead.""
"I know.""
"You let Mom bury you.""
"I know.""
"You missed everything.""
He looked at me.
"I know, sweetheart.""
His words made my throat tighten.
For a moment, I saw the father who used to make terrible pancakes.
Then I remembered the empty years.
I turned away.
Marcus approached.
"We'll deal with this after we get everyone home.""
I nodded.
Paul returned.
"Two independent officers are on their way. But there's a complication.""
"What?""
"The warehouse has a second entrance through an underground loading tunnel. Our maps show it connects to the old railway property.""
My father looked up.
"Robert used that tunnel for years.""
Marcus frowned.
"How do you know?""
"Because I helped design the original security system.""
Paul studied him.
"Can you get us inside?""
My father nodded.
"Yes.""
At 12:26 a.m., we arrived near the warehouse.
The building stood behind a chain-link fence, surrounded by abandoned shipping containers.
A single security light flickered above the main entrance.
We parked two blocks away.
Paul and the independent officers remained near the road.
Marcus, my father, and I approached the loading tunnel.
My father used a small key to open a maintenance door.
The air inside smelled of rust and damp concrete.
We moved slowly.
At the end of the tunnel, a staircase led upward.
Voices drifted through the walls.
A woman was crying.
I recognized Tasha immediately.
"Nia!""
I ran toward the sound.
My father caught my arm.
"Wait.""
He pointed through a narrow gap.
Inside the warehouse, Tasha sat tied to a metal chair.
Vanessa stood beside her.
Evelyn was in another chair.
And Robert Whitmore stood near a table covered with documents.
Marcus stared through the opening.
His hands were shaking.
Robert spoke.
"Where is the ledger?""
Vanessa checked her watch.
"They're coming.""
Robert looked at Tasha.
"Your sister is very brave.""
Tasha lifted her chin.
"Go to hell.""
Vanessa slapped her.
I nearly burst through the door.
Marcus held me back.
Robert looked at his granddaughter-in-law's wedding ring.
Then he smiled.
"Your sister's employer is about to learn an important lesson.""
He picked up a photograph.
It showed me.
My father.
And Marcus.
"Bring them inside.""
A loud metallic click echoed behind us.
We turned.
Someone had locked the maintenance door.
Then a voice came from the staircase.
"Good evening, gentlemen.""
Richard Hayes stood above us.
May you like
A pistol rested in his hand.
And behind him stood Olivia.
