Chapter 10 - MARCUS TALKS
Marcus Vale survived.
He was dehydrated.
He had a concussion.
His wrists were bruised from restraints.
But he was alive.
Police found his car at an abandoned storage facility sixty miles from the city.
A security guard heard banging from the trunk.
By the time detectives reached him, Marcus was barely conscious.
He spent the night in the hospital.
The following morning, he asked to speak.
Not to Harold.
Not to his wife.
Not even to his attorney.
He asked for Ethan.
Detective Ruiz opposed it initially.
Marcus insisted.
The meeting occurred in a hospital conference room with detectives present.
Natalie could not attend because of her medical restrictions.
Ethan called her before entering.
“I’ll tell you everything.”
“You better.”
“Anything you want me to ask?”
“One question.”
“What?”
“Who forged your signature?”
Ethan nodded.
Marcus looked weak when Ethan entered.
A bandage covered his temple.
Purple marks circled his wrists.
He looked at Ethan for several seconds.
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan remained standing.
“For what?”
Marcus lowered his eyes.
“Everything.”
“That covers a lot.”
“I know.”
“Start with twelve million dollars.”
Marcus nodded.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“Ethan.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Marcus flinched slightly.
Ethan saw it.
Some of his anger cooled.
Not much.
“Did you steal from the company?”
Marcus answered quietly.
“Yes.”
Ethan looked away for a second.
“How much?”
“Personally?”
“Yes.”
“About eight hundred thousand.”
Ethan stared.
“And the rest?”
“Harold.”
“How much?”
“Most.”
“Logan?”
“Roughly one point six.”
“Robert Keene?”
“About two million through outside entities.”
Ethan felt sick.
“You all stole.”
“Yes.”
“For six years.”
“Yes.”
“And put my name on it.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Harold needed someone clean.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“What does that mean?”
“You had no side companies.”
“No gambling debt.”
“No hidden relationships.”
“No unpaid taxes.”
“You were predictable.”
“So I was easy to frame.”
“Yes.”
Ethan’s fists tightened.
Marcus looked at him.
“I told Harold no at first.”
“What changed?”
“He showed me evidence of my own theft.”
“You had already stolen?”
“A smaller amount.”
“How small?”
“Seventy thousand.”
“Seventy thousand dollars?”
“My daughter needed—”
“Stop.”
Ethan’s voice sharpened.
“Do not give me a sympathetic reason.”
Marcus went quiet.
“You took money.”
“Yes.”
“Then Dad owned you.”
“Yes.”
Ethan finally sat.
“Who forged my signature?”
Marcus looked directly at him.
“Logan.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“Natalie was right.”
“He practiced it.”
“What?”
“Your father had copies of your contracts.”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“Logan spent weeks learning your signature.”
Ethan felt physically ill.
“My brother sat somewhere practicing my name.”
“Yes.”
“Did he forge the insurance amendment?”
“Yes.”
“The bank authorization?”
“Yes.”
“Mom’s signature?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“What happened to you?”
Marcus looked toward the detectives.
“I tried to leave.”
“When?”
“After I called you.”
“Who took you?”
“Robert.”
Detective Ruiz leaned closer.
“Robert Keene?”
Marcus nodded.
“He was waiting in the parking garage.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who else?”
“I didn’t recognize him.”
“What happened?”
“Robert said Harold wanted to talk.”
“And you went?”
“I thought I had no choice.”
Ethan’s voice became hard.
“There is always a choice.”
Marcus looked at him.
“You can say that because you never owed Harold your life.”
Ethan almost responded.
Then he stopped.
Maybe Marcus was right about that part.
“What happened next?”
“They drove me to the storage building.”
“Harold there?”
“No.”
“Did you see him at all?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know he was involved?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Because Robert called him.”
“What did Harold say?”
Marcus looked directly at Ethan.
“He told Robert I had become a liability.”
The room became silent.
“What did Robert do?”
“He asked where the records were.”
“The locker?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“That’s why they locked you in the trunk?”
“They wanted me scared.”
Ethan thought of Natalie on the staircase.
“Seems to be the family method.”
Marcus looked away.
“Did Robert mention Logan?”
“Yes.”
Ethan’s attention sharpened.
“What did he say?”
“He said Logan had become another problem.”
“Because he pushed Natalie?”
“Because the phone captured too much.”
Ethan remembered Logan’s fear.
Maybe his brother had not invented all of it.
“What was supposed to happen at the airport?”
Marcus frowned.
“I don’t know.”
“Logan says Dad arranged a man to fly him out.”
“I know the man.”
“Who?”
“Victor Haines.”
Detective Ruiz wrote the name.
“What does he do?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Security.”
“For the company?”
“Sometimes.”
“What kind of security?”
“Problems.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus looked at him.
“It means when Harold needs somebody frightened, Victor frightens them.”
Natalie.
Owen.
Marcus.
Perhaps Logan.
The pattern became clearer.
“Has he ever hurt anyone?”
Marcus looked at the detective.
“I don’t know.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I never asked.”
Ruiz spoke.
“Did Victor Haines abduct you?”
“No.”
“Who was the unidentified man?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcus began rubbing his wrists.
Ethan noticed.
“Last question.”
Marcus looked up.
“My wife wants to know.”
He took a breath.
“Who is really in charge?”
Marcus stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
“You said Harold started it.”
“Yes.”
“Logan helped.”
“Yes.”
“But in your voicemail you said neither built it.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Then he looked at Detective Ruiz.
“I want immunity.”
Ruiz almost laughed.
“You are not getting blanket immunity for twelve million dollars in fraud.”
“Then I want a deal.”
“That will depend on what you give us.”
Marcus looked back at Ethan.
“Robert built the system.”
Ethan frowned.
“My father owns the company.”
“Yes.”
“Robert owns six percent.”
“Yes.”
“How is he in charge?”
“Because Robert knows where every dollar went.”
Marcus swallowed.
“And he knows what Harold did twenty-three years ago.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
“What happened twenty-three years ago?”
Marcus stared at him.
“That is why Harold has never been able to tell Robert no.”
“What happened?”
Marcus’s voice dropped.
“Your grandfather didn’t die the way you were told.”
The room became completely still.
Ethan was seventeen when his grandfather died.
The official story had always been simple.
Heart attack.
Late at night.
Found in his office by Harold.
Ethan remembered the funeral.
He remembered his father standing beside the coffin.
He remembered Robert Keene holding Harold’s shoulder.
“What are you saying?”
Marcus looked away.
“I’m saying Robert has spent twenty-three years holding something over your father.”
“What?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Then why mention my grandfather?”
“Because I once heard them arguing.”
“What did Robert say?”
Marcus swallowed.
“He said, ‘You’d still be begging your father for permission if I hadn’t helped you that night.’”
Ethan stared at him.
May you like
Marcus continued.
“And Harold told him never to mention the office again.”
