Chapter 10 - THE BLOOD IN THE GARAGEDad immediately sent security to the Collins property.
Police were already on their way.
Mark tried calling Robert repeatedly.
Nothing.
Diane stayed on the line.
I could hear her pacing.
“Where exactly is the blood?”
I asked.
“Near Robert’s car.”
“Is the car there?”
“Yes.”
“Any sign of forced entry?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you touch anything?”
“No.”
For once, she sounded genuinely frightened.
Mark took the phone.
“Mom, when did you last see Dad?”
“About an hour ago.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was in the office.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He told me he needed to fix something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Diane began crying harder.
“He said Ryan had crossed a line.”
Mark and I looked at each other.
“What line?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Then she added.
“He asked where the old storage facility keys were.”
Robert owned an abandoned warehouse from the company’s early years.
Mark’s expression changed.
“Which storage facility?”
“The one in Garland.”
Dad immediately asked for the address.
Mark gave it.
Security headed there.
I looked at the clock.
8:03 a.m.
Northline’s closing was less than three hours away.
Everything was happening at once.
I turned toward Claire.
“Can the closing be stopped?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Northline needs clean title to the transferred assets.”
“And they don’t have it.”
“Not if you challenge the LLC assignments.”
“Then challenge them.”
Dad looked at me.
“That is a legal filing.”
“File it.”
“It could freeze assets for weeks.”
“Good.”
“It may also destroy the sale entirely.”
“Good.”
Robert’s employees flashed through my mind.
Hundreds of families.
I corrected myself.
“Not good.”
Dad understood.
“You want to save the company without saving Ryan.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked surprised.
“You can’t do both easily.”
“Then we do it the hard way.”
Mark gave a bitter smile.
“You sound like Peter.”
I ignored him.
Dad called a corporate litigator.
Within minutes, attorneys were preparing emergency notices challenging the asset transfers.
Claire forwarded every Northline document she had.
Then she froze.
“What?”
I asked.
She looked at her email.
“My access was terminated.”
“Northline knows you’re helping us.”
“Yes.”
Her phone rang immediately.
She stared at the caller ID.
“Who?”
“My boss.”
“Answer.”
She did.
“Claire.”
A man’s voice came through.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Do not play games.”
“I’m dealing with a personal matter.”
“Your personal matter appears to involve transmitting confidential acquisition documents.”
Claire looked at me.
“I found fraudulent records.”
“That is for legal to determine.”
“I am legal.”
“You were deal counsel.”
“Exactly.”
“You are no longer.”
The line went silent.
Claire swallowed.
“You fired me?”
“Effective immediately.”
She closed her eyes.
Her boss continued.
“And if any confidential material leaves your possession, we will pursue every remedy available.”
Claire looked toward Dad.
He gestured for her to stay calm.
She replied.
“You should be more concerned about buying stolen assets.”
The man stopped speaking.
Claire continued.
“I have evidence that beneficial ownership was misrepresented.”
“Claire.”
“And if Northline closes with actual knowledge of those problems, you’ll inherit the litigation.”
Another silence.
Then the man said.
“Closing remains scheduled.”
He hung up.
Claire lowered the phone.
“They’re still closing.”
Dad frowned.
“Why would a sophisticated buyer take that risk?”
Mark answered.
“Because they know something we don’t.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He shook his head.
Dad’s litigator called.
He had reviewed the transfer documents.
His first question was for me.
“Emily, did you sign a spousal consent dated March 14 of last year?”
“No.”
“Did you appear before a notary named Sandra Bell?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize Ryan to act as manager of Carter-Lily Holdings?”
“No.”
The attorney exhaled.
“Then we have forgery.”
“Can you stop closing?”
“I can seek a temporary restraining order.”
“How fast?”
“I’m filing now.”
Dad looked at the clock.
We waited.
At 8:31, police called.
The blood in the Collins garage belonged to Robert.
Not enough to suggest a fatal injury.
But enough to worry everyone.
His car had not moved.
Security cameras had been disabled at 6:12 a.m.
By a valid family access code.
Mark’s code.
Diane immediately accused him.
Mark went pale.
“I wasn’t there.”
Police confirmed Mark had been elsewhere based on traffic cameras.
“Who knew your code?”
I asked.
He looked at me.
“Ryan.”
Of course.
Ryan again.
Except Ryan had been in custody at 6:12.
Dad looked at Mark.
“Could he disable the cameras remotely?”
“No.”
“Then someone else used your code.”
Diane whispered through the phone.
“Thomas?”
Maybe.
Or Margaret.
Or Robert himself.
At 8:45, security reached the old Garland facility.
The gate was unlocked.
Robert’s phone was not there.
Robert was not there.
But his wallet was.
So was his blood.
And on the floor of the warehouse sat a plastic container filled with shredded documents.
Mark recognized them from photographs.
Company personnel files.
Dad looked disturbed.
“Why personnel files?”
Then a security officer called from inside the warehouse.
“We found something else.”
“What?”
“A chair.”
My skin prickled.
“What about it?”
“Zip ties attached to the arms.”
Everyone went silent.
Diane began sobbing again.
Before panic could take over, the officer continued.
“There’s also a camera tripod.”
Mark frowned.
“A camera?”
“No camera.”
Dad looked at me.
“Someone recorded something.”
My mind raced.
A forced confession?
A threat?
A staged video?
Ryan’s fake psychiatric evidence had taught me not to assume any record was real.
At 9:02, Dad’s attorney called.
The judge had not yet ruled on the restraining order.
At 9:11, Northline announced internally that all closing documents were ready.
At 9:19, the police located Robert’s phone.
It was moving south on Interstate 35.
A patrol car stopped the vehicle.
Robert was not inside.
The driver was a nineteen-year-old delivery worker who said a stranger paid him two hundred dollars to drive the phone to Austin.
“Description?”
Dad asked.
“Male.”
“Age?”
“Forties or fifties.”
“Hair?”
“Baseball cap.”
Useless.
At 9:28, a video arrived on my phone.
Unknown sender.
The preview image showed Robert.
My stomach dropped.
I opened it.
Robert sat in the chair from the warehouse.
Zip ties secured his wrists.
There was dried blood along his forehead.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then he spoke.
“My name is Robert Collins.”
His voice shook.
“I accept full responsibility for unauthorized financial transfers involving Collins Advanced Manufacturing.”
Mark whispered.
“No.”
The video continued.
“I acted without the knowledge of my sons.”
Ryan exonerated.
Mark exonerated.
Robert taking everything.
“I forged documents.”
Dad leaned closer.
“I misused trust information.”
My stomach tightened.
“And I attempted to deceive Northline Industrial Partners.”
The video cut off.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then another message appeared.
One sentence.
LET THE SALE CLOSE AND ROBERT COMES HOME.
Claire whispered.
“Oh, God.”
Dad took the phone.
“We call police.”
“Yes.”
Mark looked panicked.
“If they find out—”
“They need to know.”
“They’ll kill him.”
“We don’t know who ‘they’ are.”
I did.
Or at least I thought I did.
“Ryan.”
Dad looked at me.
“He is in custody.”
“He built the plan before he was arrested.”
Mark shook his head.
“Ryan wouldn’t hurt Dad.”
I stared at him.
“You still believe there are things he wouldn’t do?”
Mark had no answer.
My phone rang.
County detention center.
Everyone looked at me.
Ryan.
I answered.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Emily.”
I hated hearing him say my name.
“Where is your father?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“To talk about Lily.”
“You lost that right last night.”
“She is my daughter.”
“You forged records to take her.”
He was silent.
I continued.
“You forged my signature.”
“No.”
“You stole my money.”
“No.”
“You obtained a passport for Lily.”
“For our daughter.”
“You prepared an emergency custody case.”
“You need help.”
I almost laughed.
“You practiced that, didn’t you?”
“Emily.”
“What?”
“I can fix this.”
I looked at my father.
“Fix what?”
“Our marriage.”
I felt nothing.
Not rage.
Not heartbreak.
Nothing.
“Ryan.”
“Yes?”
“I’m filing for divorce.”
For the first time, his composure slipped.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I am done.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
His voice lowered.
“Think about what happens if you leave me.”
I almost smiled.
“Was that a threat?”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
“It was advice.”
I looked at Dad.
Then at Mark.
Then at Claire.
“Where is Robert?”
Ryan went silent.
I felt electricity move through the room.
“You know.”
Ryan breathed slowly.
“Who told you something happened to Dad?”
“You just did.”
Silence.
He realized the mistake.
I continued.
“I never said anything happened.”
Ryan’s voice turned cold.
“Emily.”
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew Robert was missing.”
He hung up.
Mark stared at me.
Dad immediately contacted the detective.
Ryan had made his first mistake.
A real one.
Not rage.
Not arrogance.
A mistake with evidence attached.
At 9:47, the judge issued a temporary restraining order blocking transfer of the disputed LLC assets.
Claire smiled for the first time.
“We stopped closing.”
Then her phone buzzed.
The smile vanished.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward us.
Northline had issued a new notice.
The transaction was proceeding without the disputed LLCs.
Dad frowned.
“That makes no economic sense.”
Claire stared at the numbers.
Then her face changed.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“They lowered the purchase price.”
“To what?”
“Eleven million.”
Mark went pale.
Dad understood.
“They never wanted the company.”
Claire nodded.
“They wanted something inside it.”
“What?”
She scrolled.
The retained asset schedule appeared.
Most equipment was excluded.
Most intellectual property was excluded.
One item remained.
A parcel of land.
Forty-two acres outside Fort Worth.
Robert had purchased it twenty-five years earlier.
Mark looked confused.
“That land is worthless.”
Claire shook her head.
“No.”
She opened another document.
A geological survey.
Then a pipeline map.
Dad whispered.
“Lithium.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
Claire looked at me.
“There’s a confirmed lithium-bearing formation beneath the property.”
“How valuable?”
She swallowed.
“Potentially hundreds of millions.”
Mark sat down.
“Ryan knew?”
Claire nodded.
“For at least eighteen months.”
Suddenly thirty-eight million dollars was not the real deal.
Eleven million was not the real deal either.
Ryan was trying to sell access to something worth far more than the company.
Dad’s phone rang.
His attorney.
He listened.
Then he looked at me.
“Emily.”
“What?”
“The forty-two-acre parcel was transferred six months ago.”
“To whom?”
He hesitated.
“Lily’s LLC.”
My daughter owned the land.
The entire kidnapping plan changed shape again.
May you like
Ryan did not need Lily merely to control company shares.
He needed her because the most valuable asset in the entire Collins empire was already in her name.
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