Chapter 14 - Who Cut the Line
The police recovered my father alive.
Carla was gone.
Again.
Dad was dehydrated, furious, and suddenly eager to cooperate.
Not because he regretted anything.
Because Carla had betrayed him.
I watched his interview through a monitor at the police station.
For years, Dad had dominated every room he entered.
Now he sat beneath fluorescent lights wearing borrowed sweatpants.
He looked ordinary.
Small.
Detective Sloan placed a photograph of Ethan’s SUV in front of him.
“Who cut the line?”
Dad stared at it.
“I want immunity.”
“No.”
“I want a deal.”
“You are not in a position to dictate one.”
“My daughter needs me alive.”
I almost laughed from the observation room.
Dad still thought everything was about him.
Sloan leaned forward.
“Your daughter needed her husband alive.”
Dad’s expression shifted.
“Then ask Carla.”
“Carla says you ordered it.”
“That woman lies.”
“So do you.”
Dad looked toward the mirrored glass.
He knew I was watching.
“I never wanted Ethan dead.”
I whispered, “Liar.”
Sloan asked, “What did you want?”
Dad exhaled.
“I wanted him scared.”
“How?”
“Carla knew a mechanic.”
My hands went cold.
“What was the mechanic supposed to do?”
“Create a problem with the car.”
“What kind of problem?”
Dad hesitated.
“A brake warning failure.”
Sloan’s expression hardened.
“Explain.”
“He was supposed to disconnect a sensor and loosen something enough that Ethan would notice trouble.”
“While driving?”
“No.”
Dad hit the table.
“It was supposed to happen in the parking garage.
He was supposed to see the warning, cancel his meeting, and get the car serviced.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It was Carla’s idea.”
“Why scare him?”
“So he would stop investigating.”
Sloan slid another photograph toward him.
“Ethan’s brake line failed on Canyon Road.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I didn’t order that.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was the mechanic?”
“I never met him.”
“Name.”
Dad remained silent.
Sloan waited.
Finally he whispered, “Derek Voss.”
Investigators found Derek Voss two hours later.
He had disappeared the morning after Ethan died.
His bank account showed a $75,000 transfer.
The sender was one of Carla’s shell companies.
But there was another payment.
Two days later.
$200,000.
From an account connected to someone else.
Not Dad.
Not Carla.
Not Mark.
Detective Webb showed me the name.
I read it twice.
THOMAS KELLER ACCOUNTING.
The man Ethan met the night he died.
Keller had paid the mechanic after the crash.
My pulse quickened.
“Why?”
Webb looked grim.
“We think Ethan discovered more than your family’s theft.”
“What?”
“Keller had been falsifying Walker Development’s audits for years.”
Margaret sat beside me.
“How much?”
Webb turned the page.
“Potentially tens of millions.”
Dad and Carla had been stealing from Ethan.
But they were not the biggest thieves.
They had simply led Ethan toward a much larger crime.
May you like
And Ethan had met the man responsible thirty-four minutes before he died.
*
