Chapter 9 - THE LAST LIE
Daniel didn't know Lauren was missing.
I told him in Robert's office.
He went completely still.
“The baby is mine?”
“Yes.”
He sat down.
I watched twenty-two years of history move across his face.
Fear.
Guilt.
Shock.
And something else.
Responsibility.
Not joy.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
But responsibility.
“Where is she?”
“We don't know.”
“Call the police.”
“Maya already did.”
“I need to find her.”
“Daniel.”
“That's my child.”
There was no resentment in me when he said it.
That surprised me.
Maybe I had crossed some invisible line.
The child wasn't the betrayal.
The child had done nothing.
“Then help us find her.”
We pulled everything together.
Lauren's phone records.
Parking access.
Credit cards.
Building cameras.
At six fourteen, surveillance showed her entering the underground garage.
At six nineteen, her car exited.
But Lauren wasn't driving.
The driver wore a baseball cap.
Too tall to be her.
Passenger side couldn't be seen.
Police traced the vehicle north.
Toll camera.
Then west.
Daniel stared at the map.
“I know where he's taking her.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
“To where?”
“The old quarry.”
I frowned.
“What quarry?”
“Harrison Materials owned a limestone quarry outside Elgin.”
“Owned?”
“Dad shut it down ten years ago.”
“Why would he take her there?”
Daniel didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Remote.
Private.
No cameras.
My stomach turned.
Police were notified.
This time, they took the threat seriously.
Especially after the shooting.
Especially after Lauren's note.
Especially after Maya provided Richard's text messages.
Daniel insisted on going.
So did I.
Robert told me not to.
Rachel told me not to.
Even Ellie told me not to.
“Mom, police exist for a reason.”
“I know.”
“Then let them do police stuff.”
I almost smiled.
“I'll stay behind the perimeter.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
I meant it when I said it.
Mostly.
The old quarry was a dark wound cut into the earth.
Police vehicles gathered half a mile away.
No sirens.
No lights.
A tactical team moved in.
Daniel paced beside me.
“You're making me nervous,” I said.
“My pregnant girlfriend is being held by my father.”
I looked at him.
He grimaced.
“Former girlfriend.”
“Better.”
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
His phone rang.
Richard.
Daniel answered on speaker.
“Dad.”
“Come alone.”
“Where's Lauren?”
“Safe.”
“Let me hear her.”
Silence.
Then Lauren's voice.
“Daniel.”
She sounded terrified.
He closed his eyes.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Baby?”
“I think okay.”
Richard returned.
“You have thirty minutes.”
“For what?”
“To bring me Margaret's files.”
“They're already copied.”
“Then bring the originals.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Daniel looked at me.
Then his expression changed.
“You don't care about the files anymore.”
Silence.
“You care about the DNA results.”
Richard hung up.
Daniel whispered, “He wants to destroy proof.”
“Why?”
“If Lauren proves the baby is mine, he has no heir.”
“You.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Not by blood.”
“But legally you're his son.”
“Apparently that isn't enough for him.”
Police prepared a rescue.
I stayed where I promised.
For seven minutes.
Then I saw a second vehicle moving along an access road behind the quarry.
A familiar black SUV.
Harrison Custom Homes logo still faintly visible where decals had been removed.
The same model used in the Oak Park shooting.
I grabbed an officer.
“That car.”
He turned.
The SUV accelerated.
Police moved.
The driver abandoned it near an equipment shed and ran.
Officers chased him.
The passenger door opened.
Lauren fell out.
I ran before anyone could stop me.
“Lauren!”
She was alive.
Hands tied.
Mouth taped.
I reached her.
Pulled the tape away.
“Richard—”
“Where?”
“He isn't here.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then who took you?”
She stared toward the quarry office.
“Patrick.”
I froze.
“Patrick Doyle is dead.”
She shook her head wildly.
“No.”
Impossible.
The accountant who witnessed my forged signature.
The man who supposedly died three years ago from a heart attack.
“Patrick is alive.”
Behind us, Daniel approached.
Lauren saw him.
Her face changed.
“Daniel, run!”
A shot cracked.
Daniel dropped.
I screamed.
But he wasn't hit.
The bullet struck the dirt beside him.
Police shouted.
Gunfire.
The shooter appeared in a second-story window.
Older man.
Gray hair.
I recognized him from the photograph in Mom's safe-deposit box.
Patrick Doyle.
Alive.
He disappeared.
Tactical officers entered the building.
Minutes later, they brought him out in handcuffs.
Richard was nowhere.
Lauren shook uncontrollably.
“Patrick has been working for him the whole time.”
I stared.
“He faked his death?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make every forged document lead to a dead man.”
Of course.
A perfect witness.
One nobody could question.
Police took Lauren to an ambulance.
Daniel followed.
I stayed near Patrick as detectives searched him.
He looked at me.
Then smiled.
“Margaret's daughter.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead I asked, “Did Richard kill Helen?”
Patrick's smile vanished.
“No.”
“Did you?”
He said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Rage flooded me.
“Why?”
His eyes moved toward the police.
“Lawyer.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you cancel my mother's medical appointment?”
Still nothing.
I wanted to scream.
Then Patrick said one sentence.
“Your mother wasn't investigating Richard when she died.”
I froze.
“Who was she investigating?”
He looked past me.
Toward Daniel.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Patrick smiled sadly.
“She discovered something Daniel did.”
“What?”
“Ask him about the River North collapse.”
I turned.
Daniel stood twenty feet away.
He had heard.
His face was white.
I walked toward him.
“What is the River North collapse?”
“Claire.”
“What is it?”
“Not here.”
“Daniel.”
Lauren sat inside the ambulance watching us.
Police surrounded Patrick.
Everything had led to this.
My husband's affair.
Richard.
The forged documents.
My mother.
“What happened?”
Daniel looked defeated.
“Seventeen years ago, one of our early buildings had a structural failure during construction.”
I remembered.
A floor collapsed.
Two workers injured.
No deaths.
Daniel had told me a subcontractor installed defective supports.
“What did you do?”
His voice dropped.
“I approved cheaper steel.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“We were running out of money.”
“Was it legal?”
“No.”
I stepped back.
“And Mom found out?”
“Years later.”
“When?”
“Before she died.”
“Did she confront you?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I'd fix everything.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
“You always say that.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Stop.”
Daniel looked crushed.
“Claire.”
“My mother wasn't collecting evidence only against Richard.”
“No.”
“She was collecting it against you.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
I thought about the hospital appointment.
Lauren's employee code.
Richard.
Patrick.
Maybe everyone had touched the conspiracy.
But I finally understood Mom's letter.
Daniel finally made the mistake I hoped he would never make.
Not cheat.
Not steal pearls.
Not even forge shares.
Mom had been waiting to see whether he became Richard.
I looked at my husband.
“Did you stop her from getting medical care?”
His face changed.
“No.”
“Did you know the appointment was canceled?”
“No.”
“Did you hurt my mother?”
“No.”
His answer came instantly.
I believed him.
But belief wasn't enough anymore.
Before I could say anything else, an officer ran toward us.
“Mrs. Harrison?”
“Yes?”
“We located Richard.”
“Where?”
The officer hesitated.
“At your house.”
My blood froze.
May you like
Then he said the words that stopped my heart.
“Your daughter is there.”
