“Security?”
“Already involved.”
“You need protection.”
“I need evidence.”
“You can't investigate a criminal organization by yourself.”
Malcolm looked at him.
“You're assuming it's an organization.”
Daniel said nothing.
Malcolm opened the folder.
“Jonathan stole eleven million.”
“Maybe.”
“Someone forged Evelyn's signature.”
“Yes.”
“Someone knew about my investigation.”
Daniel nodded.
“And someone knew exactly when I entered the hotel.”
Silence.
Malcolm looked toward the hallway.
“So either someone inside is talking.”
“Or someone is watching.”
A noise came from the office.
A crash.
Daniel immediately reached for the door.
They entered.
Nobody was there.
A window stood open.
Files were scattered across the floor.
Malcolm rushed to the desk.
The folder containing the evidence was gone.
Daniel looked toward the window.
“Someone climbed out.”
Malcolm stared at the empty desk.
Then he noticed something.
A small black button.
It had fallen onto the carpet.
Malcolm picked it up.
Daniel looked at it.
“Suit jacket?”
Malcolm nodded.
He turned toward the door.
“Find Jonathan.”
The Photograph
Jonathan was gone.
His apartment was empty.
His office had been cleared.
His car was abandoned near LaGuardia.
For several hours, Malcolm couldn't locate him.
Then Ruth called.
“Mr. Reid?”
“Yes.”
“I found something.”
“Where?”
“Laundry room.”
Malcolm arrived within minutes.
Ruth handed him a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A group of men stood outside the hotel.
Jonathan was there.
So was another man.
Malcolm recognized him immediately.
Arthur Whitmore.
But there was something strange.
The photograph was twenty-two years old.
Arthur looked younger.
Jonathan looked younger.
And beside them stood a third man.
Malcolm stared.
His face went pale.
“That can't be.”
Ruth frowned.
“What?”
Malcolm turned the photograph over.
Written on the back were six words:
ASK ARTHUR ABOUT YOUR FATHER.
Malcolm said nothing.
Ruth watched him.
“Mr. Reid?”
He folded the photograph.
“I need to see Arthur.”
The Secret
Arthur was waiting in the library.
When Malcolm entered, he knew immediately.
“You found it.”
Malcolm placed the photograph on the desk.
Arthur closed his eyes.
“You promised me you'd never tell anyone.”
“I didn't promise.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Your father asked me to keep it secret.”
Malcolm's voice was quiet.
“My father died believing you betrayed him.”
“I didn't.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
Arthur took a long breath.
“Your father discovered the theft twenty-two years ago.”
Malcolm froze.
“What theft?”
“The same network.”
“Jonathan?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Arthur looked toward the window.
“Jonathan was only a junior accountant.”
Malcolm felt his stomach tighten.
“Who was in charge?”
Arthur whispered a name.
Malcolm stared.
“No.”
Arthur nodded.
“Your father found evidence against him.”
“Who?”
Arthur's voice broke.
“Your uncle.”
Silence.
Malcolm stepped backward.
“My uncle died.”
“I know.”
“He died in a car accident.”
Arthur looked at him.
“That was the official story.”
The Man Who Returned
That night, Malcolm found an old file in the hotel archives.
The name was Samuel Reid.
His father.
Inside were accounting reports, photographs, and correspondence.
There was also a police report.
Malcolm read it twice.
Then a third time.
His father had been investigating financial fraud at Valecrest.
Two weeks before his death, he had written a letter to Arthur.
The final sentence read:
If anything happens to me, don't trust the accident report.
Malcolm's hands trembled.
He remembered being twenty years old.
The phone call.
The funeral.
His mother's silence.
The unanswered questions.
He had spent two decades believing grief was the only thing left.
Now he understood.
Someone had lied to him.
Someone had buried the truth.
And that someone might still be alive.
At midnight, Malcolm received another message.
This time, only one sentence:
COME TO THE ROOF. ALONE.
He went.
A figure waited near the edge.
Jonathan Pierce.
Malcolm stopped.
“You're alive.”
Jonathan laughed.
“Barely.”
“What happened to you?”
“They tried to kill me.”
“Who?”
Jonathan looked behind him.
“Your uncle.”
Malcolm stared.
“That isn't possible.”
Jonathan smiled bitterly.
“You're still thinking he died twenty years ago.”
The Man in the Shadows
Jonathan explained everything.
Malcolm's uncle, Richard Reid, had disappeared after the accident.