Chapter 4 - THE PRICE OF KEEPING A SECRET
“You sent Savannah a picture of me?”
Gavin Roarke stood on the farmhouse porch while Declan stared at him.
Nobody moved.
Not Jonah.
Not June.
Not even me.
Then Declan took one step forward.
“You'd better explain.”
Gavin had worked for Declan for eleven years. I'd seen him stand beside his boss during threats, funerals, and business meetings where men twice his size looked frightened.
I'd never seen him look afraid.
Until now.
“Patrick Calloway had access to our private search network,” Gavin said. “I suspected someone inside my team was passing him information.”
“So you gave him Amelia?” Declan asked.
“I released a photograph through a controlled channel. I wanted to identify the leak.”
I felt sick.
“You used me as bait.”
Gavin looked at me.
“Yes.”
The honesty didn't soften anything.
“Did you know I was pregnant?”
“I knew before Declan did.”
Declan's expression darkened.
“How long?”
“Four days.”
Four days.
For four days, strangers had discussed my unborn child while I folded baby clothes upstairs and wondered how I would pay for another ultrasound.
“You could have warned me,” I said.
Gavin lowered his eyes.
“I believed I could reach you before Calloway's people.”
“And you were wrong.”
“Yes.”
Declan removed a small black security badge from Gavin's jacket.
“You're relieved of command.”
“Declan—”
“Get out of my sight.”
Gavin accepted the decision without protesting.
But before leaving, he put another envelope on the porch railing.
“Savannah requested a copy of this yesterday.”
Declan opened it.
His face went cold.
“What is it?” I asked.
He handed it to me.
Inside was a proposed private security authorization.
My real name appeared on the first page.
AMELIA MASON.
The document described me as a potential witness requiring protective relocation because of threats against the Voss organization.
Beneath my name was a second line.
UNBORN CHILD — FATHER: DECLAN VOSS.
I scanned the next paragraph.
The proposed arrangement would put my transportation, communications, and medical appointments under the control of a security administrator chosen by Calloway Holdings.
They intended to make my captivity look like protection.
I dropped the papers.
“They want to take my baby.”
Declan caught the documents before the wind carried them away.
“They haven't obtained any legal authority to do that.”
“But they're trying.”
“Yes.”
I looked directly at him.
“And you thought I should trust another protection plan arranged without asking me?”
His face tightened.
Then he handed me his phone.
“Call whoever you want. An attorney. The sheriff. Anyone you trust. My men won't stop you.”
That was new.
Declan Voss never surrendered control easily.
I took the phone.
“First, I want someone who doesn't work for you.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
June stepped forward.
“I know a woman in Asheville. Margaret Bell. She handles civil rights cases and protective orders.”
“Call her,” I said.
Before sunset, Margaret had agreed to meet us the following morning.
Until then, Jonah would guard the property.
I insisted June stay.
Declan agreed to sleep in his car.
I didn't thank him.
That night, I found Declan sitting outside beneath an oak tree.
His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the tattoo that ran from his wrist to his elbow.
He was turning a silver pocket watch between his fingers.
I recognized it.
It had belonged to his mother.
He used to carry it whenever he was worried.
“I thought you'd stopped doing that,” I said.
He looked up.
“I never did.”
I stood several feet away.
“What did Gavin's photograph prove?”
“That Patrick can see information he shouldn't.”
“Why does Patrick care about me?”
Declan looked toward the dark mountains.
“Because I started investigating the Mercer fire six months ago.”
I remembered June's story.
“The fire that killed her husband?”
He nodded.
“My father was blamed for the locked exits. He paid settlements and spent the rest of his life insisting he'd been framed.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Not enough.”
His answer surprised me.
“After he died, I found evidence that the compensation fund for the workers' families had been drained. Millions of dollars disappeared through Calloway-controlled accounts.”
“What does that have to do with Savannah?”
“Her father discovered I was investigating. He threatened to expose illegal contracts my father left behind, contracts that could destroy businesses employing thousands of people.”
“So you agreed to marry her.”
“I agreed to the announcement. I thought the alliance would give me time to secure the records.”
“And me?”
He closed the watch.
“I planned to move you somewhere safe under a different name.”
I stared at him.
“You never considered that I might want to stay and fight?”
“I was afraid you'd be hurt.”
“Look where that got us.”
His eyes dropped to my stomach.
“I know.”
I almost reached for him.
Almost.
Then I remembered Savannah smiling beside him on television.
And went back inside.
At nine the following morning, Savannah Calloway arrived at the farmhouse.
Alone.
She drove a white rental car and wore a cream-colored coat that looked absurdly expensive against the weathered porch.
Jonah blocked her path.
She raised both hands.
“I'm not armed.”
“That doesn't make you welcome,” I said from the doorway.
Savannah looked at me.
Then at my stomach.
Something crossed her face.
Regret, perhaps.
Or fear.
“I didn't come to hurt you.”
“You sent men to take me.”
“My father sent them.”
“Using your security contract.”
She didn't deny it.
Declan appeared behind me.
“Leave, Savannah.”
She ignored him.
Instead, she reached into her handbag and removed a photograph.
It showed a young man standing beside a fishing boat, laughing in bright sunlight.
“My brother,” she said. “Miles.”
I waited.
“He's twenty-four. Four years ago, he signed shipping papers for my father's company without knowing what was being moved.”
“What was being moved?” Declan asked.
“Stolen medical equipment. Restricted industrial chemicals. Things that should never have crossed the docks.”
Declan's expression sharpened.
“Patrick told me that operation was shut down.”
Savannah laughed without humor.
“My father tells people whatever keeps them useful.”
She turned back to me.
“When federal investigators started asking questions, he put Miles's signature on every transaction.”
“You're saying he framed his own son?” I asked.
“He said it was insurance against disloyalty.”
Her voice cracked.
“I agreed to the engagement because Patrick promised he'd destroy the evidence against Miles.”
“And the surveillance?” I demanded.
She looked ashamed.
“I authorized it. My father told me you had records that could send my brother to prison.”
I stared at her.
“You watched a pregnant woman sleep because your father told you to?”
“Yes.”
“Then don't stand here asking for sympathy.”
Savannah accepted that.
For the first time, I saw a woman who wasn't smiling for cameras.
She looked exhausted.
“I'm not asking you to forgive me,” she said. “I'm asking you to understand that my father won't stop because Declan loves you.”
Declan stiffened.
Savannah noticed.
“He does love you, Amelia. That's why you're valuable.”
She put the photograph away.
“Patrick believes your grandmother hid the original Mercer fire report. He's certain it passed to you.”
“I don't have a fire report.”
“Maybe you don't know you have it.”
June appeared behind us.
“What exactly does your father think Evelyn kept?”
Savannah turned.
Her face changed.
“You're June Whitaker.”
“Yes.”
“My father said you disappeared after the fire.”
“I moved away. There's a difference.”
Savannah swallowed.
Then she said something that silenced everyone.
“My father has a signed order from the night of the fire. He says it proves who locked those emergency doors.”
Declan stepped forward.
“Who signed it?”
Savannah looked at him with genuine sorrow.
“Declan, I came here because you deserve to know what he's planning to use against you.”
She opened her handbag again.
This time, she removed a photocopy of an old maintenance directive.
At the bottom was a signature.
D. VOSS.
I looked up at Declan.
May you like
He had gone completely pale.
And when I asked whether the signature was his, he didn't deny it.
