Chapter 6 - The Price of Getting My Family Back
Walter wanted police cars at Richard Vale’s estate within the hour.
Richard knew that.
Which was why the second call came from Noah’s phone.
“No police,” Richard said. “No Frank. No clever retired detectives.”
Walter stood inside Frank’s kitchen while state investigators traced the signal.
“What do you want?”
“The company.”
Walter almost laughed.
“You destroyed my family for stock certificates?”
“I built that company too.”
“My father built it.”
“And you inherited control because your last name came first on a piece of paper.”
Richard’s resentment sounded almost ancient.
“What do you want me to sign?”
Richard named the terms.
Walter’s fifty-one percent interest.
Rebecca’s disputed future voting rights.
Control of three warehouses.
Two development parcels.
Everything transferred into a holding company Richard controlled.
“In exchange?”
“Marianne. Rebecca. Noah.”
“All alive?”
“For the moment.”
Walter’s jaw tightened.
“I want proof.”
A video arrived.
Marianne appeared first.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
But alive.
She stared into the camera.
“Walter, don’t sign anything.”
Someone pulled her away.
Rebecca appeared next.
She looked sedated but conscious.
Then Noah.
The boy was crying silently.
Walter’s entire body went rigid.
Richard returned to the phone.
“Midnight tomorrow.”
He gave Walter an abandoned lakeside resort seventy miles away.
“Come alone.”
The call ended.
Frank shook his head.
“You are not going alone.”
“He kills Noah if he sees police.”
“So we make sure he doesn’t see us.”
By afternoon, federal investigators were involved.
Kidnapping.
Financial fraud.
Identity falsification.
Attempted murder.
The case had grown far beyond local jurisdiction.
Walter spent the evening doing exactly what Richard expected.
Signing documents.
But Frank’s team embedded tracking technology inside the document case and duplicated every page.
At 11:50 p.m., Walter drove into the abandoned resort.
Snow had begun falling.
The main lodge stood black against the lake.
One light burned upstairs.
Walter entered carrying the case.
Richard waited beside a stone fireplace.
He had aged well.
Silver hair.
Tailored coat.
The same calm smile Walter had seen across thousands of business meetings.
Grant stood near the staircase.
His confidence was gone.
He looked terrified.
“Where are they?” Walter asked.
Richard nodded toward the documents.
“First.”
Walter placed the case on the table.
Richard examined the signatures.
“You always were sentimental.”
“You murdered a woman in Rebecca’s car.”
“An unfortunate improvisation.”
“You imprisoned my daughter.”
“Grant did.”
Grant snapped, “You ordered it.”
Richard glanced at him.
“You see why partnerships become difficult?”
Walter took one step forward.
“And Marianne?”
Richard smiled.
“Your wife is remarkably stubborn.”
A sound came from upstairs.
Something falling.
Walter looked toward the staircase.
Richard blocked him.
“Not yet.”
Suddenly Grant said, “Richard, this is over.”
Everyone turned.
Grant held a gun.
But it was pointed at Richard.
Walter stared.
Grant’s hand shook.
“I want my son.”
Richard almost looked amused.
“You want immunity.”
“I want Noah.”
“For six years, you kept Rebecca imprisoned.”
“I never agreed to hurt Noah.”
“No. You merely stole his inheritance and erased his mother.”
Grant flinched.
Walter understood.
Grant was no hero.
But fear had finally become stronger than greed.
“Where is Noah?” Grant demanded.
Richard sighed.
Then shot him.
The bullet struck Grant’s abdomen.
He fell against the staircase.
Walter lunged.
Richard fired again.
Walter rolled behind a sofa.
Glass exploded behind him.
Outside, hidden federal officers moved toward the lodge.
Richard grabbed the document case and headed through a rear corridor.
Walter chased him.
They entered an old ballroom.
Above them, a balcony ran the length of the room.
Richard stopped.
A door opened upstairs.
Marianne appeared.
She was holding Noah’s hand.
Walter forgot how to breathe.
“Marianne!”
“Grandpa!” Noah screamed.
Richard raised his weapon.
Walter saw where it was aimed.
Not at him.
At Noah.
Walter ran.
A shot cracked through the ballroom.
Marianne pulled Noah down.
Walter crashed into Richard.
They slammed against an old banquet table.
The gun flew away.
Richard punched Walter twice.
Walter drove him backward.
Then Richard smiled.
“You still don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Rebecca was never at this resort.”
Walter froze.
Richard head-butted him and broke free.
“You came for the wrong daughter.”
Walter’s blood went cold.
Before he could ask what Richard meant, flames erupted beneath the ballroom doors.
May you like
Someone had set the lodge on fire.
And Rebecca was somewhere else.
