Chapter 2 - THE FOURTH MAN
Hospital security separated Thomas, Brian and Scott before police arrived.
They were not allowed near Jake again.
Thomas demanded his attorney.
Brian complained that I attacked him.
Scott said nothing.
I stayed beside my son.
The encrypted phone remained in my hand.
A second file arrived.
Video.
The image came from farther away than Thomas’s own house.
Mrs. Patterson’s driveway camera.
Another angle came from a delivery truck parked across the street.
A third from a traffic camera near the entrance to Thomas’s subdivision.
One camera can disappear.
Three are harder.
I watched.
Christine’s SUV pulled into her father’s driveway at 5:41 p.m.
Jake climbed out first.
Christine followed carrying a blue document folder.
Thomas opened the front door.
No argument yet.
At 6:03, Brian arrived.
6:07, Scott.
6:12, my company’s false emergency alarm triggered.
I froze.
Same minute.
At 6:19, a black SUV stopped fifty yards beyond Thomas’s gate.
The driver never got out.
A second man stepped from the passenger side.
Gray coat.
Cap.
He moved behind a row of hedges.
At 6:26, Christine came out of the house.
Fast.
She had the blue folder again.
Thomas followed.
No audio from that camera.
Christine pointed toward her car.
Thomas grabbed her arm.
Jake ran between them.
Brian came out.
Scott.
Then Thomas’s phone rang.
He answered.
The fourth man remained near the hedge.
Thomas listened.
Looked toward the street.
Then spoke.
The delivery truck microphone barely caught it.
“Carter’s still across town?”
Pause.
“Good.”
He ended the call.
Then looked at Jake.
What happened next made the hospital room disappear around me.
Thomas grabbed the folder from Christine.
Jake snatched it back.
Brian caught Jake’s arms.
Scott grabbed his legs.
Christine screamed.
Thomas hit my son.
Once.
Then again.
Jake’s head struck the driveway.
I stopped the video.
The man on my phone said:
“Daniel.”
“Keep going.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Keep going.”
I played.
Christine threw herself at Thomas.
Brian released Jake long enough to shove her backward.
She fell against the front steps.
Jake kicked Scott.
Broke free.
Ran.
Thomas shouted something.
The truck microphone caught only three words.
“Get the boy.”
Jake made it through the side gate.
Mrs. Patterson opened her front door.
Scott stopped.
Why?
The fourth man stepped from the hedge and raised one hand.
Not a gun.
A signal.
Stop.
Scott obeyed.
That mattered.
My wife’s brothers did not merely fear Thomas.
They obeyed the stranger.
Then the stranger entered the black SUV.
It left.
Thomas grabbed Christine by the wrist and dragged her back into the house.
I stood.
“Where is my wife?”
The secure voice answered:
“We are checking.”
I called Christine.
Voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
I called Thomas’s house.
No answer.
Police had already dispatched units there.
Then my old contact sent another frame.
The fourth man’s right hand was visible.
A silver ring.
Square face.
Black center.
My stomach tightened.
I knew that ring.
Not the man.
The ring.
Nine years ago, fewer than thirty people had been authorized to wear one.
I had removed mine when I left.
I kept it in a locked box at home.
I had never told Christine.
The voice on the phone said:
“You recognize it.”
“Yes.”
“Want me to run old personnel?”
“Quietly.”
“What are we looking for?”
I stared at Jake.
“Someone who knew exactly how to move me across the city without touching me.”
The hospital doctor entered.
Dr. Natalie Pierce.
“Mr. Carter, Jake needs rest.”
I nodded.
Jake squeezed my hand before I could move.
“Mom was scared too.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He looked at me carefully.
“She was scared before Grandpa hit me.”
“What happened inside?”
“Grandpa wanted her to sign.”
“What?”
“A paper.”
“What paper?”
Jake thought.
“It had Grandpa’s company name.”
Whitaker Precision Systems.
Christine owned part of it.
Her late mother, Laura, had left her thirty one percent of the voting shares in trust.
Thomas controlled forty three percent.
Brian and Scott split the rest.
For years, Christine ignored the company.
She was a pediatric physical therapist.
She wanted nothing to do with manufacturing contracts or board fights.
Until six weeks ago.
She started receiving unusual notices.
Emergency shareholder meetings.
Proposed sale.
Debt refinancing.
She asked me once:
“Does it look normal for Dad to need my signature this many times?”
I told her no.
She asked for records.
Thomas became furious.
Now Jake said:
“Grandpa told Mom she had to sign tonight.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
Jake swallowed.
“She said, ‘I’m not giving Halcyon anything until I know what happened to the nineteen million.’”
My blood went cold.
Nineteen million.
I had never heard that number.
Then the hospital room door opened again.
A police officer stepped in.
“Mr. Carter.”
“Yes?”
“We found your wife.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“At her father’s house.”
“Is she hurt?”
The officer hesitated.
May you like
“She was locked in an upstairs office.”
Continue to the next part: Christine is found confined inside her father’s house after refusing to sign a company sale connected to nineteen million dollars she says has disappeared.
