My first thought was Elena.
"She's not there."
Morales was already on the phone.
"Patrol confirmed the house was empty after Elena left."
"Then why go there?"
Robert answered before anyone else.
"The archive."
I turned.
"You said William kept it in several places."
"He does."
"One is the house."
Robert hesitated.
"Possibly."
I stared.
"You don't know?"
"William chose the locations."
"Why?"
"So I couldn't reveal everything under pressure."
I almost laughed from sheer disbelief.
"Your life is exhausting."
"I know."
Morales pointed at both of us.
"You are not going to Greenwich."
Robert immediately said, "Yes, we are."
"No."
"It's my house."
"It's potentially an armed-hostage scene."
"I know the property."
"So do local police."
Robert gripped his cane.
"William may have hidden something only I can identify."
"Then identify it remotely."
"I don't know what it is."
Morales stared at him.
"Then you're even less useful there."
I almost admired her again.
Robert looked at me for support.
He found none.
"She's right."
"Terry."
"If Hale is armed, we do not arrive in the driveway and give him two additional hostages."
He looked frustrated.
Then stopped.
Old Robert would have argued.
This Robert sat down.
"All right."
That mattered.
Small changes often do.
Morales coordinated with Greenwich police.
The estate was surrounded quietly.
No lights.
No sirens.
Crane continued sending intermittent location updates.
Hale was moving north.
William remained alive as far as Crane could tell.
I watched the little blue location marker crawl across my screen.
A human life reduced to movement on a map.
"Why William?" I asked.
Robert looked toward me.
"Hale believes he has the recording."
"That explains taking him."
"Yes."
"Why the house?"
Robert stared at his hands.
"Because William once told Daniel he kept the most dangerous things where nobody would search."
"Meaning?"
"In plain sight."
I thought of our house.
Forty years of accumulation.
Books.
Photographs.
Boxes.
Furniture.
A thousand places.
"Could it be in the study?"
"Too obvious."
"Bedroom?"
"No."
"Garage?"
Robert frowned.
"Maybe."
Irene joined us.
"Think like William."
Robert almost smiled.
"That is impossible."
"Try."
He leaned back.
"William believes people ignore objects associated with service."
"What does that mean?"
"Maintenance rooms. Cleaning supplies. Vehicles."
I thought of the garage.
Robert's collection of old cars occupied one side.
Household vehicles occupied the other.
William had maintained them for years.
"The sedan."
Robert looked at me.
"What?"
"The old Mercedes."
His expression changed.
A 1987 Mercedes sat beneath a dust cover in the far garage bay.
Robert's first successful year in business.
William had driven it before we could afford a proper company car.
Robert whispered, "He restored it."
"When?"
"Last winter."
"Did you ask why?"
"He said the engine needed work."
Irene said, "Maybe it did."
"Maybe."
Morales relayed the possibility to Greenwich police.
"Do not approach the garage unless Hale enters."
We waited.
Crane messaged:
TURNING ONTO NORTH STREET.
My pulse accelerated.
Another:
TWO MINUTES.
Then nothing.
One minute passed.
Two.
Three.
I called.
No answer.
Morales looked at the police feed.
"Vehicle entered the service lane."
Robert stood.
"They let him in?"
"Perimeter is maintaining distance until William is clear."
"Where's Crane?"
"Unknown."
A radio update came through.
Black SUV at service gate.
Gate opening.
My stomach tightened.
"How?"
Robert whispered.
"The code."
Of course.
Hale had learned it.
Perhaps from Richard.
Perhaps from Elena under threat.
Perhaps from Crane.
The gate closed behind the SUV.
Morales said, "Vehicle moving toward rear garage."
Robert's jaw tightened.
"He knows."
"Or suspects."
"William wouldn't tell him."
I looked at him.
"Pain changes what people tell."
Robert closed his eyes.
He knew.
A minute later, Morales received confirmation.
"Hale and William are out of the vehicle."
"William walking?"
"Yes."
Relief came so sharply I had to sit.
"Condition?"
"Blood visible. Hands restrained."
Robert turned away.
Hale forced William toward the garage.
Police marksmen had partial sight lines.
No safe shot.
Then another person entered the property.
Morales's voice sharpened.
"Who the hell is that?"
I looked at the screen.
A second vehicle had stopped outside the service gate.
Someone got out.
"Crane."
Robert said it immediately.
Morales swore.
"He's going to get William killed."
She ordered units to intercept.
Too late.
Crane climbed the wall.
For a man in his sixties, he moved surprisingly quickly.
Then disappeared among the trees.
Robert stared at the feed.
"Idiot."
I almost laughed.
"You hired him."
"Years ago."
"You hired him again three days ago."
"Point taken."
Radio traffic increased.
Hale had entered the garage with William.
Crane's location was unknown.
Officers were repositioning.
I could do nothing.
That was the hardest part.
After days of being manipulated, I had discovered action.
Running.
Finding documents.
Refusing signatures.
Asking questions.
Now I had to sit.
My phone rang.
William's number.
Everyone froze.
Morales signaled for silence.
I answered.
"William?"
Hale's voice came through.
Low.
Controlled.
"Mrs. Ellison."
I had never heard him before, yet I knew.
"Victor."
Robert looked at me.
Hale laughed.
"So Crane told you."
"What do you want?"
"Your husband."
Robert leaned forward.
Morales shook her head violently.
I said, "You have William."
"I don't want William."
"Then let him go."
"When Robert brings me the archive."
"He doesn't know where it is."
Hale laughed.
"Then William dies confused."
My stomach tightened.
"What archive?"
"You know."
"No. I know there are records. I don't know what you're looking for."
"The diner recording."
"We already have information about that."
"Not the original."
"Why does the original matter?"
Silence.
Then I understood.
"Because Crane edited the version."
Hale said nothing.
I looked at Morales.
She understood too.
"What is on the original that Crane hasn't shown us?"
Hale's voice hardened.
"Send Robert."
"No."
"Then this gets unpleasant."
I heard a sound in the background.
William.
A groan.
Robert reached for the phone.
I stopped him.
"No."
His eyes flashed.
I shook my head.
He let go.
I said, "Victor, if you kill William, you lose your leverage."
"You think I only have one kind."
"What else?"
"You."
My skin prickled.
"You don't have me."
"Not yet."
"Then you're doing badly."
Robert almost choked.
Morales stared at me.
Hale went quiet.
I continued.
"You've spent days cleaning up Richard's mistakes."
"Careful."
"Why? Because you're dangerous?"
No answer.
"Richard paid you fifty thousand dollars toward a three-hundred-thousand-dollar job. Now he's with police, and you're risking murder charges over a recording."
Hale's breathing changed.
I had touched something.
"Richard owes me."
"Richard may soon owe several attorneys more than he owns."
"Not my problem."
"Then why are you still doing his work?"
Silence.
Irene wrote something on a legal pad and slid it toward me.
KEEP HIM TALKING.
I almost smiled.
That was precisely what I intended.
"Victor, Crane told us you didn't kill Robert that night."
"Crane talks too much."
"Apparently."
"He'll stop."
That frightened me.
"Where is he?"
"Nearby."
So Hale knew Crane had followed.
I looked at Morales.
She immediately sent the information.
"Did William stop you from killing Robert?"
Hale laughed.
"Your driver likes that story."
"What's the real one?"
"The real one is Richard panicked."
Robert leaned closer.
"What did he do?"
Hale heard him.
"Robert."
My husband closed his eyes.
"Yes."
"You look better than the last time I saw you."
Robert's face hardened.
"You saw me unconscious."
"Mostly."
"Did you touch me?"
Hale laughed softly.
"I checked your pulse."
Robert's hand tightened.
"Why didn't you finish the job?"
"Richard changed his mind."
Every person in the room went still.
"What?" I asked.
Hale continued.
"Your son couldn't handle watching."
I looked toward Harrison's office.
"Which son?"
"Richard."
That contradicted everything I had assumed.
Hale said, "He talked tough until his father stopped breathing right."
Robert stared at the phone.
"Then what?"
"He told Claire to fix it."
"Claire called the ambulance."
"Eventually."
"Why did you stay?"
"Money."
"Of course."
"Don't judge people for being consistent."
The line crackled.
Then I heard William.
"Mrs. Theresa."
My heart lurched.
"William?"
"I'm all right."
A thud.
He grunted.
Hale said, "Don't speak unless I tell you."
My anger became cold.
"Victor."
"What?"
"If you hurt him again, you make it harder for yourself."
He laughed.
"You sound like Richard."
"No. Richard threatens people who trust him. I'm telling you a practical fact."
Silence.
Then Hale said, "One hour."
"For what?"
"Robert brings the archive to the garage."
"He doesn't have it."
"Then find it."
"How?"
"Ask William."
A muffled sound.
Then William's voice.
"The star."
Hale shouted.
A crash.
The line disconnected.
Robert stood.
"The star."
"What does that mean?"
His face had changed.
He knew.
"Mercedes."
"How?"
"The hood ornament."
I stared.
Robert grabbed his cane.
"The old Mercedes doesn't have its original hood star."
"So?"
"William replaced it last winter."
Irene frowned.
"You think something is inside it?"
"No."
Robert was already reaching for his phone.
"The ornament was the reminder."
"Reminder of what?"
He looked at me.
"First successful year."
"1987."
"Yes."
"What happened in 1987?"
Robert's eyes widened.
"The safe."
I remembered suddenly.
Our first serious home safe had been installed that year.
It had later been removed during renovation.
Or so I believed.
"Where is it?"
Robert looked at me.
"The garage floor."
I stared.
"Under the Mercedes?"
"Under the original inspection pit."
He nodded.
William had restored the car.
He had chosen that bay.
He had hidden the archive beneath the very vehicle nobody drove.
Morales was already relaying instructions.
Then gunfire erupted through the police radio.
Three shots.
A shout.
Another shot.
Robert went white.
"William."
Nobody answered.
Radio traffic became chaotic.
Officer down? Negative.
Suspect moving.
Rear garage breach.
Civilian inside.
Second armed individual.
Crane.
I gripped the table.
"What's happening?"
Morales held up one hand.
We waited.
Ten seconds felt like minutes.
Then:
"Hostage clear."
I closed my eyes.
"William?"
Morales listened.
"Alive."
Robert sagged against the table.
"Thank God."
"Gunshot wound to shoulder. Conscious."
Relief nearly folded me in half.
"And Hale?"
Morales listened again.
Her face tightened.
"Escaped through the west side."
Robert swore.
"What about Crane?"
"Inside the garage."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Armed?"
"Weapon recovered."
I sat.
It was not over.
But William was alive.
For that moment, it was enough.
Then Morales received another update.
Her expression changed again.
"What?"
She looked at Robert.
"They opened the compartment beneath the inspection pit."
Robert stared.
"And?"
Morales's voice became careful.
"The archive is there."
He exhaled.
"Good."
"No."
Something in her tone chilled me.
"What?"
"They found the recordings."
Robert frowned.
"Then what's wrong?"
Morales looked at me.
"There's more than an archive."
My stomach tightened.
"What else?"
"A passport."
"Whose?"
She checked the message.
"Samuel Voss."
I stared at her.
The dead man from Robert's coffin.
Morales continued.
"His wallet. Personal papers. Several photographs."
Robert looked stunned.
"I never saw those."
"And a sealed envelope addressed to Theresa Ellison."
Every person in the room turned toward me.
I could hear my own pulse.
"From whom?"
Morales looked at the information again.
"Samuel Voss."
Click here to continue reading: PART 13: Samuel Voss Had Written My Name Before He Died, and His Letter Explained Why William Hid More Than Evidence
While Everyone Watched Me Mourn My Husband, His Name Appeared on My Phone With a Warning About Our Sons
Part 12 of 25
