Chapter 9 - DANIEL’S LAST VIDEO
Mom covered her mouth.
Detective Monroe increased the volume.
My father continued.
“I thought Kane knew.”
“I was wrong.”
“Mason has been using his name for years.”
Daniel held several documents toward the camera.
“He tells business owners the payments are for Vincent.”
“He keeps most of the money.”
“David Sterling knows.”
David.
Mason.
Two names connected by money.
Daniel looked exhausted.
“If I expose them, Mason will say Kane ordered everything.”
“If Kane believes him, I’m dead.”
“If Kane doesn’t believe him, Mason is finished.”
Daniel leaned closer to the camera.
“That makes me dangerous to both of them.”
Mom whispered.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The recording could not answer.
Daniel continued.
“I’m leaving copies where Mason won’t find them.”
“One copy is in this unit.”
“One went to an attorney.”
“One is somewhere only Claire can identify.”
Mom frowned.
“I don’t know.”
Then Daniel smiled faintly at the camera.
“If Rory is old enough to watch this someday, tell her I loved her more than pancakes on Sunday.”
I looked at Mom.
“Daddy loved pancakes.”
Mom began crying.
Not loudly.
She pressed her fingers against her lips.
The video continued.
“I made mistakes.”
“I waited too long because I was scared.”
“Claire, don’t make the same mistake.”
“People like David survive because everybody thinks being quiet will keep them safe.”
Daniel looked directly into the lens.
“It doesn’t.”
The screen went black.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then Detective Monroe opened the first box.
Inside were payroll records dating back eight years.
Not one restaurant.
Five businesses.
Sterling Catering.
Sterling Events.
Sterling’s Bistro.
Lakefront Hospitality.
North Shore Kitchens.
Angela Brooks scanned the totals.
“This could be over a million dollars.”
Detective Monroe shook her head.
“Maybe more.”
Mom suddenly looked toward the video.
“He said one copy went to an attorney.”
Angela asked.
“Do you know who?”
“No.”
“And the place only you could identify?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Then I remembered something.
Pancakes.
Sunday.
A little diner where Daddy once let me pour too much syrup.
I tugged Mom’s sleeve.
“The blue bird.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“Daddy’s pancake place.”
Mom stared.
Then her eyes widened.
“The Bluebird Diner.”
Detective Monroe was already writing down the address.
We drove there immediately.
The Bluebird had closed four years earlier.
The building was now a laundromat.
But the old owner still lived upstairs.
His name was Frank Delaney.
When Mom said Daniel Carter, he became silent.
Then he walked into the back room.
He returned holding a sealed envelope.
“I wondered if anybody would ever come.”
Mom’s hands trembled.
Inside was a safe-deposit-box key.
And a note.
Claire.
May you like
If you found this, ask Vincent one question.
Why did Mason know about Rory before I ever told him?
