Chapter 4 - DAMIAN CROSS ASKED ME BEFORE HE SENT MENThe address Julian gave Damian led to a townhouse in Quincy.
Damian did something Claire did not expect.
He did not send armed men first.
He called Detective Nora Sloane.
Then the state police contact Julian had been using secretly.
Only after law enforcement agreed did Damian add two security vehicles to the perimeter.
Claire watched him from the passenger seat.
“You’re learning.”
His head turned.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
“That sounded like something.”
She almost smiled.
Reversal.
The townhouse was empty.
Rebecca had been there.
Food containers.
A sweatshirt.
Phone charger.
But no Rebecca.
No blood either.
Then Claire saw the kitchen chair.
Moved slightly away from the table.
A mug smashed nearby.
Signs of hurry.
On the counter sat Rebecca’s phone.
Claire picked it up with gloved hands after detectives cleared it.
One unfinished text:
CLAIRE I THINK THE POLICE OFFICER IS—
Nothing else.
Detective Sloane immediately looked toward her team.
“Which officer?”
The security log showed two Boston officers had been assigned after Julian anonymously requested protection.
One legitimate.
One replacement.
The replacement had used the identity of an officer who was home sick.
Sebastian’s network went deeper.
Damian called Malcolm.
“Find every connection between Sebastian and Boston law enforcement.”
Malcolm nodded.
Claire said:
“Legally.”
Damian looked at her.
“I know.”
She held his gaze.
“Do you?”
He almost smiled.
“Annoying woman.”
“Difficult patient.”
“I’m not your patient.”
“You have a resting heart rate of eighty-eight.”
His brows lifted.
“You checking?”
“I notice people.”
That silenced him.
The same thing he had told her at the gala.
Hours later, Rebecca was found.
Not through guns.
Through parking cameras.
Detective Sloane located the fake officer’s vehicle at a garage near Logan Airport.
Rebecca was inside.
Alive.
Locked in the rear.
The fake officer had abandoned the vehicle after realizing police had identified him.
When Claire reached the hospital, Rebecca started crying.
Then immediately said:
“I’m sorry.”
Claire stopped beside the bed.
“For what?”
Rebecca looked ashamed.
“Everything.”
That word carried years.
Overdrawn accounts.
Last-minute rent.
Credit-card bills.
A car repair Claire paid for.
A boyfriend Claire hated.
Claire sat.
“We can do the rest later.”
Rebecca nodded.
Then saw Damian standing outside the room.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
Claire almost laughed.
“Yes.”
“The Damian Cross?”
“He dislikes adjectives.”
Damian entered.
Rebecca became terrified.
He noticed.
He stopped six feet away.
“Ms. Bennett.”
“Mr. Cross.”
“You helped Julian.”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Rebecca looked at Claire.
“Because I was already involved before I knew what I was looking at.”
She explained.
Harbor Youth Initiative’s finance director, Paul Vetter, asked Rebecca to process invoices manually.
She thought it was normal.
Then one vendor returned money accidentally to the nonprofit.
Rebecca noticed the bank account receiving payment did not match the vendor’s legal name.
She investigated.
Found four vendors sharing one mailing address.
She panicked.
And did something stupid.
She transferred twenty thousand dollars into a temporary internal holding account to see who noticed.
Someone noticed immediately.
Paul Vetter threatened her.
Said she had committed theft.
Said he could make police believe she stole far more.
That was when she called Julian.
“How did you know him?” Damian asked.
“He came to the office two months earlier asking audit questions.”
Julian had already suspected Sebastian.
Rebecca gave him everything.
They began quietly tracing accounts.
Claire stared at her sister.
“You were in danger for months.”
“Yes.”
“And all the times you called me for money?”
Rebecca looked down.
“Some were real.”
Claire almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“But the last two…”
“What?”
“I was paying for storage, burner phones, hotels.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because Julian said you worked in Damian’s clinic.”
Damian’s face tightened.
Rebecca continued.
“We didn’t know who inside the clinic was compromised.”
Claire looked at him.
He absorbed that without offense.
Progress.
“Where is the ledger?”
Damian asked.
Rebecca became quiet.
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
She looked at Claire.
“Your apartment.”
Claire stared.
“What?”
“Inside your old anatomy textbook.”
“You broke into my apartment?”
“You gave me a key.”
“For emergencies.”
“This was extremely emergent.”
Claire covered her face.
Damian’s mouth moved.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m trying.”
The ledger was retrieved under police supervision.
It contained everything.
Fake medical identities.
Political payments.
Construction kickbacks.
Names of officers receiving money.
And a twelve-year-old payment:
$150,000 from a Sebastian-controlled company to marine inspector Leonard Price.
Three days after Michael Cross’s death.
The official report declared mechanical failure.
The payment memo read:
Consultation completed.
Damian stared for a long time.
Claire watched his hands.
Completely still.
Too still.
“Did Michael suspect Sebastian?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me our uncle was stealing.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him he was paranoid.”
There it was.
Guilt.
Old.
Sharp.
Damian looked toward the windows.
“I was twenty-six.”
“That doesn’t make you responsible for murder.”
“I could have listened.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
Claire did not rescue him from the truth.
“You could have.”
His jaw tightened.
“But the person who sabotaged that boat made the choice.”
He looked away.
That seemed harder for him to accept.
The ledger also contained a newer entry.
Harbor Crown Hotel.
Security override.
Gala service routes.
Authorized by:
S. Cross.
The attack was tied directly to Sebastian.
Enough for investigation.
Not yet enough to guarantee conviction.
Then Rebecca said:
“There’s more.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Julian gave me an audio file.”
“What file?”
“Michael.”
Damian stopped breathing.
“Impossible.”
“He said it came from an old voicemail archive.”
Rebecca opened a cloud account.
The recording was twelve years old.
Michael Cross’s voice.
Young.
Frustrated.
Damian, call me when you get this. Sebastian’s moving money again. I found the dock accounts. Don’t confront him yet. I’m serious. Something feels wrong.
A pause.
Then:
And stop pretending you don’t care because Dad likes me better. You’re still my brother.
The message ended.
Damian’s face emptied.
Claire understood immediately.
He had never heard it.
“Why?”
he asked.
Rebecca looked at the metadata.
“It was intercepted before delivery.”
“By who?”
Julian had traced the archival administration.
The family communications director at the time.
A man named Henry Cross.
Damian’s father.
Silence.
Damian stared.
“My father blocked Michael’s message.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Why?”
Nobody knew.
Then Damian’s phone rang.
His mother.
He answered.
“Mom.”
Her voice was audible from three feet away.
“Damian, don’t go after Sebastian.”
His expression changed.
“How do you know?”
Silence.
“Mom.”
She began crying.
“I knew Michael was afraid.”
Damian stopped.
Claire’s stomach dropped.
His mother continued.
“And your father knew exactly why.”
The room became silent.
Damian whispered:
“What did Dad do?”
His mother answered:
“He made a deal with Sebastian.”
May you like
And suddenly Michael’s death was no longer the secret of one murderous uncle.
It had been buried by Damian’s own parents.
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