Chapter 9 - Truck 317
I walked deeper into the cargo area.
The blood stain was too small to prove a serious injury.
Mason wanted fear to make decisions for me.
I refused to give him that advantage.
Thomas examined the truck’s interior.
He found scrape marks beneath the floor rails.
A removable cargo panel had been opened recently.
Dad’s letter said the records were hidden inside Truck 317.
The truck had been moved because Mason needed those records.
That meant they might still be there.
We removed the metal flooring.
Beneath it was a sealed compartment.
Inside were pharmaceutical shipping logs, photographs, and seventeen death certificates.
Each victim had received counterfeit cardiac medication distributed through a Sterling route controlled by Mason.
A video file showed him meeting with executives from a company called Gulf Meridian Medical.
Conrad sat beside him.
Victoria appeared in the background.
She was not an innocent beneficiary.
She had helped build the operation.
Thomas found a second folder.
It contained Dad’s original complaint to the Drug Enforcement Administration.
Deputy Briggs had stamped it received.
He never filed it.
A handwritten note appeared across the final page.
IF HARPER FINDS THIS, TELL HER 3:17 WAS NOT THE TIME I DIED.
I stared at the sentence.
The pocket watch had stopped at 3:17 because Dad wanted me to notice that number.
Truck 317.
The vehicle containing the evidence.
He had created a trail while dying.
Reed copied the files.
“We can use this to dismantle the entire network.”
“After we find Grandma.”
Pier Nine belonged to a decommissioned shipyard outside Galveston.
Mason expected me to arrive alone.
Instead, we designed the appearance of isolation.
I wore a transmitter hidden inside the heel of my boot.
A drone remained beyond visual range.
Reed’s tactical unit approached from the water.
Thomas wanted to come.
I refused.
“If they recognize you, the plan fails.”
He looked at me with shame.
“I should have stopped Victoria months ago.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“She threatened my daughter.”
Thomas’s daughter lived in Denver with two children.
Victoria had photographs of their school.
“She said Mason’s partners would reach them if I contacted you.”
I understood fear.
I did not excuse silence.
“You will answer for what you failed to do.”
He lowered his head.
“I know.”
“But you can help me correct it now.”
I gave him the original brass key.
Mason believed I would carry it.
Thomas would use it to inspect the key’s purpose while I handled the exchange.
At sunset, I walked onto Pier Nine carrying a false recorder and an empty evidence case.
Grandma hung above the water inside the same steel cage.
A crane cable held it twenty feet over the waves.
Mason stood beside the controls.
May you like
Deputy Briggs aimed a rifle at my chest.
And behind them stood Dr. Raymond, holding a syringe against Grandma’s neck.
