Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO KNEW HER ROUTE
“Someone inside my security team delivered that photograph?”
Damian stared at Claire.
They stood in the quiet church, sunlight stretching across the wooden pews.
Claire held Lily's teddy bear against her chest.
“Yes.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No. He kept his face turned away from the camera.”
“What camera?”
“The one above the side entrance.”
Damian frowned.
Their mansion had sixteen exterior cameras.
He had approved the system himself.
“Thomas told me there was no footage.”
Claire gave a bitter laugh.
“Thomas told you that?”
“He said the system malfunctioned.”
“Of course he did.”
Damian looked at her.
“Claire, Thomas has worked for me for eighteen years.”
“And you've trusted Vincent your whole life.”
The words struck harder than she intended.
Damian looked away.
Claire continued.
“I don't know who you can trust anymore. That's why I left.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Let me help.”
“You had six years to help.”
He accepted the answer.
She stepped past him.
Then stopped near the church doors.
“Damian?”
He turned.
“Lily wasn't afraid of you.”
His throat tightened.
“She loved you so much it hurt her.”
Claire's eyes filled.
“Every time you promised to come home, she believed you.”
She looked down at the teddy bear.
“That was the part I couldn't protect her from.”
Damian lowered his head.
“I know.”
“No,” Claire whispered. “You're only beginning to.”
She left.
And this time, Damian didn't follow.
He stood inside the church for nearly an hour.
Then he returned to his car and called Detective Elena Ruiz.
She was the lead investigator assigned to the collision.
“Detective, this is Damian Moreland.”
“I know.”
“I have information about the security cameras at my house.”
“Your chief of security already provided some material.”
“I want you to obtain the original recordings. Not copies prepared by my staff.”
A pause.
“Mr. Moreland, are you willing to sign a statement authorizing that?”
“Yes.”
“Even if the recordings reveal evidence of unrelated crimes?”
Damian looked at the small pink sock lying on the passenger seat.
“Yes.”
The detective was quiet for a moment.
“Then come to the station.”
By evening, Damian had spent four hours answering questions.
He disclosed the suspicious trust amendment.
The business authorization used for the truck.
Sabrina's unauthorized access to his study.
And Vincent's involvement.
He didn't pretend his empire was legitimate.
When Detective Ruiz asked about the companies used to conceal criminal earnings, Damian answered truthfully.
His attorney warned him that those admissions could cost him his freedom.
Damian said only, “Then write them down.”
At 7:20 P.M., the detective showed him a photograph of a man.
Early forties.
Dark hair.
A scar beneath his left ear.
“Do you recognize him?”
Damian studied the image.
“Evan Price.”
“Who is he?”
“He was one of my drivers.”
“Was?”
“I dismissed him last year.”
“Why?”
“He stole company property.”
Detective Ruiz leaned forward.
“According to employment records, he wasn't dismissed.”
Damian frowned.
“He was transferred to Harbor Crown Logistics.”
“Who approved the transfer?”
Damian already knew the answer.
“Vincent.”
The detective placed another photograph on the table.
Evan Price stood beside Vehicle 417.
The black truck.
The red compass.
Damian went still.
“He was driving?”
“No. Another employee was driving. Price supervised the vehicle.”
“Where is he now?”
“Missing.”
Damian pressed his palms together.
“Did he sabotage the truck?”
“We don't know.”
“But he had access.”
“Yes.”
Detective Ruiz studied him.
“Mr. Moreland, I need to ask you something difficult.”
“Go ahead.”
“Did your wife ever tell you she felt threatened by your family?”
Damian swallowed.
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
He looked at the table.
“I dismissed her concerns.”
The detective didn't soften.
“Why?”
“Because I thought my brother would never hurt anyone in my home.”
“Your wife was threatened through your own security system.”
“I know.”
“And your daughter was in the car when that truck lost control.”
Damian closed his eyes.
He could still hear Claire's voice.
You didn't listen.
Detective Ruiz opened another folder.
“There's a problem with the evidence.”
Damian looked up.
“The video from your side entrance was deleted from the household server.”
“Then it's gone?”
“Not necessarily.”
The detective placed a small black security device on the table.
“Your wife installed an independent backup camera two months ago.”
Damian stared.
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she stopped trusting your people.”
The detective turned a screen toward him.
The footage showed the side entrance to the Moreland mansion.
A man wearing a black security jacket approached the door.
He carried a cream-colored envelope.
He placed it beneath a flowerpot.
Then he turned.
His face was clearly visible.
Damian leaned forward.
It wasn't Evan Price.
It wasn't Vincent.
It was someone Damian had known since childhood.
Someone who had attended his wedding.
Someone who had held Lily when she was born.
“That's impossible,” Damian whispered.
Detective Ruiz watched him.
“Who is he?”
Damian's voice broke.
“That's my godfather. Frank Donnelly.”
Frank Donnelly was seventy-four.
He had served as the Moreland family's trusted accountant for almost forty years.
Damian's late father had called him the most loyal man in Chicago.
Frank had taught Damian how to balance a ledger.
He had stood beside him at his father's funeral.
And every Christmas, Frank brought Lily a handmade wooden ornament.
But now the footage showed him delivering a threat to Damian's wife.
“Where is Frank?” Damian asked.
Detective Ruiz turned another page.
“We located him this morning.”
“Where?”
“At a rehabilitation center in Wisconsin.”
“Why is he there?”
“He suffered a stroke six weeks ago.”
Damian frowned.
“Can he speak?”
“Only a few words.”
“Then how do we know why he delivered that envelope?”
The detective looked at him.
“We don't.”
Damian stared at the image.
Frank's face appeared exhausted.
He looked directly at the camera before walking away.
Something about that bothered Damian.
Frank knew where the security cameras were.
He had helped approve their installation.
If he'd wanted to remain hidden, he could have used the rear service gate.
Instead, he had approached a camera and looked straight into it.
Damian leaned closer.
“Play it again.”
The detective restarted the footage.
Frank placed the envelope beneath the flowerpot.
Then he touched his left wrist.
Twice.
Damian sat upright.
“Stop.”
The detective paused the video.
“What's wrong?”
Damian pointed.
“That's a signal.”
“What signal?”
“My father used it when he wanted someone to look at his watch.”
Detective Ruiz frowned.
“Why?”
“Frank and my father used to hide important messages inside watch cases.”
She enlarged the image.
A silver watch rested on Frank's wrist.
Its face was cracked.
The detective checked the property inventory from Frank's rehabilitation center.
The watch wasn't listed.
Damian stared at the screen.
“Where did it go?”
Detective Ruiz looked through another report.
Then her expression changed.
“The watch was delivered to your mansion four weeks ago.”
“Who received it?”
May you like
She read the name.
“Lily Moreland.”
