Chapter 14 - CATALINA
Federal agents insisted I stay behind.
I ignored them.
Hale specifically wanted me.
That gave us leverage.
Hannah coordinated with Coast Guard tactical teams while Dad and I traveled toward Catalina aboard an unmarked federal vessel.
Reagan came too.
Nobody trusted her.
But she knew Hale better than any of us.
“Where would he go?” Hannah asked.
“Old military installation.”
Reagan pointed toward the island map.
“There are abandoned structures inland.”
Hale used one for private meetings years earlier.
We landed after midnight.
Hannah's team stayed back.
Dad whispered, “You don't need to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You've already survived enough.”
“So has Carter.”
Dad looked surprised.
“You care what happens to him?”
“I hate him.”
I checked the wire beneath my shirt.
“But I'm not Hale.”
We entered the abandoned structure.
Carter was tied to a chair.
Hale stood behind him.
For the first time, I saw the man outside a courtroom.
No robe.
No bench.
No legal power.
Just an aging man holding a gun.
“Finnley.”
“Hale.”
He smiled.
“You have Jonathan's eyes.”
I wanted to hit him.
“Let Carter go.”
“The drive.”
“I don't have it.”
Hale pressed the pistol to Carter's head.
Reagan gasped.
“Robert.”
“Quiet.”
She stepped forward.
“I did everything you asked.”
Hale laughed.
“You were useful.”
“Useful?”
“Did you think we were partners?”
The same words Hannah had written.
Reagan finally understood.
Hale never intended to share anything.
“What happened to Jonathan?” I asked.
Hale looked at me.
“Curious?”
“Did you kill him?”
“Jonathan was sanctimonious.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“He wanted to destroy our family over some accounting irregularities.”
“You mean crimes.”
“He thought rules mattered more than blood.”
“And Mom?”
His expression changed.
“Evelyn should have stayed quiet.”
Dad moved.
Hale aimed at him.
“Careful.”
My heart pounded.
“You killed her too.”
“She had Jonathan's weakness.”
“Morals?”
“Self-righteousness.”
The wire was transmitting everything.
We only needed him to keep talking.
“What about my trial?”
Hale smiled.
“That was elegant.”
“You fabricated it.”
“With help.”
“Carter.”
Carter lowered his head.
“Derek.”
“Yes.”
“Reagan.”
“Yes.”
“Pierce.”
“Yes.”
“And you.”
Hale spread one hand.
“I supervised.”
A confession.
Clean.
Direct.
Then he looked at my chest.
His smile vanished.
“Take off your shirt.”
My stomach dropped.
He knew about the wire.
Maybe he'd seen the outline.
I hesitated.
“Now.”
Dad stepped forward.
Hale fired.
The bullet hit Dad in the shoulder.
Everything exploded.
Reagan screamed.
Carter threw himself sideways.
I rushed Hale.
The gun fired again.
We crashed onto the floor.
Hale was stronger than I expected.
He struck my face with the pistol.
I grabbed his wrist.
Another shot hit the ceiling.
Then Carter, still tied to the chair, slammed into Hale.
The gun skidded away.
Reagan grabbed it.
For one terrible second, she pointed it at me.
Then at Hale.
Her hands shook.
“You ruined my son.”
Hale laughed.
“Your son ruined himself.”
Reagan's finger tightened.
“Don't,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because killing him saves him from trial.”
Hale lunged toward her.
A shot fired.
He fell.
But Reagan hadn't pulled the trigger.
Hannah stood in the doorway.
Her weapon smoking.
The bullet hit Hale's leg.
Federal agents flooded the room.
Hale screamed as they handcuffed him.
Dad was bleeding heavily but conscious.
I pressed my shirt against his shoulder.
“Stay with me.”
He smiled weakly.
“Always.”
Carter stared at Hale being dragged away.
Then he looked at me.
“Finnley.”
“What?”
“The drive.”
He nodded toward his shoe.
Inside the heel was a tiny memory card.
“I never gave it to anybody.”
Hannah removed it.
The files contained twenty years of Hale's private transactions.
Bribes.
Shell companies.
Judicial payments.
Medical payoffs.
Police corruption.
And one audio recording.
Robert Hale speaking with the truck driver responsible for Mom's crash.
Three days before she died.
The case was over.
Or so we thought.
Then Hannah opened the final folder.
DENNIS SUCCESSION PLAN.
Inside was a document signed by Reagan.
Dated two years before my arrest.
It contained detailed instructions for what would happen after Dad was declared dead.
At the bottom was another signature.
Not Hale.
Not Vale.
Not Carter.
May you like
Someone I had trusted my entire life.
Margaret Lane.
