Margaret was the first to stand.
“Ten minutes,” she said. “That's not a threat. It's a distraction.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Our front door was open.
The hallway beyond it was dark.
No person appeared in the frame.
But whoever had taken the photograph had been close enough to stand directly across from our house.
Ethan reached for his phone.
“I'm calling the police.”
“Do it,” Margaret said. “But don't tell them we're going home.”
He dialed.
I held our daughter against my chest.
Her eyes were closed, and one tiny fist rested beneath her chin.
It seemed impossible that someone could be planning financial crimes around a child who had spent most of the morning sleeping through them.
Margaret picked up the ledger.
“The warehouse is bait.”
“And the house?”
“Another piece of bait.”
“Then what is the target?”
She looked at the final page.
“The asset schedule.”
I frowned.
“You said the schedule was incomplete.”
“It is.”
“And the missing pages?”
“Those pages identify where the remaining assets are held.”
Ethan ended the call.
“The police are sending someone to the house.”
“Good,” Margaret said.
I looked at her.
“But if they aren't going there, where are they?”
She pointed to the old map on her desk.
“Here.”
A small circle marked a location outside town.
I recognized the name immediately.
“Bennett Family Advisory.”
Robert stepped closer.
“My old office.”
Margaret nodded.
“The company records are there.”
“They've been there for years.”
“Exactly.”
I understood.
The house was a distraction.
The warehouse was a second distraction.
The real objective was the corporate archive.
If Victor could destroy the records showing where the missing assets went, he could argue that the money never existed.
Ethan looked at his father.
“Do you still have access?”
Robert shook his head.
“Not after I retired.”
“Who does?”
“Victor's people may have obtained access.”
I looked at Margaret.
“Can we get there before them?”
She checked her watch.
“Not if we take the main road.”
She picked up her keys.
“There is an old service road behind the railway.”
Robert nodded.
“I remember it.”
We hurried outside.
The sky had begun clearing.
Sunlight broke through the clouds, making the wet pavement shine.
Margaret drove.
Robert sat beside her.
Ethan and I sat in the back with the baby.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
Then Ethan reached for my hand.
I let him hold it.
He looked at me.
“If we get through this, I want to do things differently.”
I looked out the window.
“Don't make promises while we're afraid.”
“I'm not.”
“Then wait until we're safe.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
The service road was narrower than I expected.
Branches scraped against the car.
At one point, Margaret slowed near a fallen tree.
“Someone's been here recently.”
I looked through the windshield.
Fresh tire tracks cut through the mud.
Robert leaned forward.
“That wasn't there yesterday.”
Margaret accelerated.
The road opened near an industrial park.
The Bennett Family Advisory building stood at the far end.
Its windows were dark.
“No cars,” Ethan said.
Margaret stopped two buildings away.
“We walk from here.”
Robert looked uneasy.
“What if someone is inside?”
“Then we don't announce ourselves.”
We entered through a side door using Robert's old key.
The hallway smelled of dust and old carpet.
Robert moved carefully.
“This place hasn't been used much since I retired.”
“Someone has been here,” I whispered.
A drawer stood open.
Paper littered the floor.
A filing cabinet had been forced.
Ethan crouched.
“Someone was searching.”
Margaret nodded.
“Find the archive room.”
Robert led us through a narrow corridor.
The archive was at the back.
The door was locked.
Robert tried his key.
Nothing.
He looked at me.
“Stand back.”
He pushed his shoulder against the door.
It opened.
Inside, shelves had been emptied.
Boxes were stacked on the floor.
Several folders had been torn apart.
Margaret went directly to a metal cabinet.
“This is where Samuel's records were kept.”
She opened it.
Empty.
Robert stared.
“They took everything.”
I noticed a sheet of paper beneath the cabinet.
I picked it up.
It was a delivery receipt.
The destination was the old Hale warehouse.
The time was listed as 8:40 that morning.
I looked at Margaret.
“They're moving the records.”
She read it.
“Then the warehouse isn't entirely a decoy.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“It's both.”
Margaret nodded.
“They want us to think they're hiding something there while they move the evidence somewhere else.”
Robert looked around.
“Where?”
Ethan found a small envelope taped beneath a shelf.
He opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
The first copy is false. The second copy tells the truth.*
I recognized Samuel's handwriting.
“What does that mean?”
Margaret took the note.
“The corporate archive had duplicate records.”
Robert shook his head.
“Not here.”
“Where?”
He thought for a moment.
Then his face changed.
“The old accounting office.”
“Where is that?”
“Across town.”
Margaret checked the time.
“Then that's where we go.”
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
You should have gone to the warehouse.*
I showed it to Ethan.
Another message arrived.
Now we know you didn't.*
He looked at me.
“They know we're here.”
Robert moved toward the door.
“We leave now.”
Margaret stopped him.
“Wait.”
She pointed to the security monitor.
The screen showed the parking lot.
A dark blue sedan had just entered.
I recognized it.
The same car.
Margaret switched off the monitor.
“Back door,” she whispered.
We moved quickly.
I carried the baby.
Ethan stayed beside me.
Robert opened the rear exit.
We stepped into the alley.
A vehicle door slammed in the distance.
Then another.
Someone shouted.
Margaret led us toward a second alley.
We didn't run blindly.
We moved quickly, quietly, staying behind the buildings until we reached her car.
Once inside, she started the engine.
Ethan looked back.
Three men emerged from the building.
None of them wore uniforms.
One held a folder.
Another carried a black case.
The third stopped and looked directly toward our car.
Even from that distance, I knew he had seen us.
Margaret drove away.
Robert looked at the folder in the man's hand.
“The archive records.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
“The records are already gone.”
“Then what was he carrying?” Ethan asked.
I thought of the message.
The first copy is false. The second copy tells the truth.*
I looked at the receipt still in my hand.
“The duplicate.”
Margaret nodded.
“And now they know we found it.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 18: The Duplicate Records Led Us to an Abandoned Office, Where the Numbers Finally Revealed Who Had Been Receiving the Missing Money
At Half Past Four, the Front Door Opened, and One Look From My Husband Told Me the Night Was About to Change Everything
Part 17 of 24
