Chapter 4 - My Wife Wanted Me to Choose
The blue sewing box sat on the passenger seat of Detective Ruiz’s unmarked SUV.
We had forty-three minutes.
“I am not giving them this,” Ruiz said.
“I know.”
“Good.”
“I’m giving them a copy.”
She turned toward me.
“No.”
“They want the box because they think the code is all that matters.”
“The box may contain evidence.”
“We already photographed everything.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“They have Grace.”
Ruiz stopped talking.
Grace had taken six stitches protecting my mother.
She had endured months of threats in my home because she refused to abandon a seventy-eight-year-old woman.
I was not leaving her to people who murdered for paperwork.
Ruiz finally nodded.
“We control the exchange.”
David had texted an address.
An abandoned dealership south of Irving.
Police units staged three blocks away.
SWAT had eyes on the building.
Ruiz fitted me with a transmitter.
“Do not improvise.”
“I won’t.”
“That answer sounded like a lie.”
“It wasn’t.”
“What was it?”
“Optimism.”
She almost smiled.
Then her expression hardened.
“If you see Grace, do not rush them. We need a clean shot.”
I entered the dealership alone.
Dust covered the showroom floor.
Sunlight cut through cracked blinds.
A faded poster on the wall promised ZERO PERCENT FINANCING.
Grace sat in a chair near the service entrance.
Her hands were tied.
A strip of duct tape covered her mouth.
Marcus stood behind her.
He held a pistol.
Rebecca stepped from the office.
For seven years, that face had meant home.
Now I saw details I had ignored.
The way she always assessed rooms before entering.
The way she never left documents unattended.
The way she hated having her photograph taken.
Not quirks.
Habits.
“Hello, Ryder.”
I held up the sewing box.
“You look different when you’re kidnapping people.”
She smiled.
“You always did use sarcasm when you were scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Then you’re stupid.”
Marcus pushed the gun against Grace’s temple.
My eyes moved to him.
“Careful.”
He grinned.
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll learn why refinery workers don’t threaten engineers.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“There he is. The man who thinks he can solve everything.”
“Where’s David?”
“Watching.”
I scanned the room.
No sign.
Maybe cameras.
Maybe a sniper position.
“Let Grace go.”
“The box.”
“Grace first.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“You still don’t understand negotiation.”
“I understand leverage.”
“And what leverage do you have?”
“You need what’s inside.”
“So?”
“So you can’t shoot me until I give it to you.”
Marcus laughed.
“I can shoot the maid.”
Grace stared at me.
I saw fear.
But also something else.
She moved two fingers.
Once.
Twice.
Then pointed subtly downward.
I followed her eyes.
A service pit.
The old dealership had an inspection trench running beneath the repair area.
Someone was underneath us.
David.
Or another gunman.
I held the box higher.
“Why me?”
Rebecca tilted her head.
“What?”
“Why marry me?”
“For the same reason women marry men every day.”
“Money?”
“Security.”
“You had Marcus.”
Marcus smirked.
Rebecca’s face tightened.
Interesting.
I continued.
“Dad says you thought I knew where he was.”
That shook her.
Just slightly.
“Your father is dead.”
“No.”
Marcus looked at Rebecca.
That reaction told me everything.
She knew.
He didn’t.
“Robert’s alive?” Marcus asked.
Rebecca snapped, “He’s lying.”
“Am I?”
I reached into my jacket slowly.
Marcus raised the gun.
“Easy.”
I pulled out my phone and showed them the photograph I had taken at the warehouse.
Dad on a stretcher.
Alive.
Marcus stared.
Rebecca’s face went blank.
“You knew,” he said.
She ignored him.
“You spoke to him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That your father was a murderer.”
“Robert was a thief.”
“That your family killed landowners.”
“He stole from us first!”
Her voice cracked through the empty building.
Finally.
Emotion.
“That land belonged to my family before Robert manipulated Samuel.”
“Then sue.”
“You think courts matter when men like your father buy judges?”
“Interesting argument from people who forge deeds.”
Marcus grabbed Rebecca’s arm.
“You said Robert was dead.”
She yanked free.
“Not now.”
“You said—”
“Shut up.”
The alliance had cracks.
Good.
I took another step.
“Grace.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“What about her?”
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“She chose a side.”
“She protected an elderly woman.”
“She snooped.”
“She witnessed you abusing my mother.”
Rebecca’s eyes hardened.
“Your mother is a bitter old woman who refused to understand reality.”
“You broke her wrist.”
“She fell.”
“The camera saw you push her.”
Silence.
Marcus looked at Rebecca again.
“You said there weren’t cameras.”
I almost smiled.
Second crack.
“She removed them,” I said.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
“All of them?”
“No.”
He swore.
Rebecca lunged for the sewing box.
I stepped back.
Marcus raised the gun.
Then Grace kicked backward.
Her heel slammed into his knee.
He shouted.
The gun moved.
I threw the box.
Not at Rebecca.
At the fluorescent lights above Marcus.
Wood smashed plastic.
Darkness exploded across half the service bay.
I ran.
Marcus fired.
The bullet tore through a metal cabinet.
Grace dropped sideways, chair and all.
I hit Marcus at the waist.
We went down.
His pistol slid beneath a car lift.
Rebecca screamed.
Somebody climbed from the service pit.
David.
He had a shotgun.
“Stop!”
I froze.
Marcus crawled away.
Grace was on her side, still tied to the chair.
David aimed at me.
For five years, I had trusted that man with multimillion-dollar projects.
He had sat beside me at company dinners.
Sent Christmas gifts.
Once visited me in the hospital after I ruptured a tendon.
“David,” I said.
“You always were difficult.”
“I thought that was why you promoted me.”
“It was why I kept you close.”
Sirens sounded faintly outside.
David smiled.
“They’ll be late.”
Rebecca stared at him.
“You said you handled the police.”
“I handled the first perimeter.”
My stomach tightened.
Ruiz had been right.
Someone inside law enforcement was compromised.
David motioned toward the office.
“All of you. Move.”
Marcus limped toward the door.
“Forget this. We need to go.”
David pointed the shotgun at him.
“No.”
Marcus stopped.
“You don’t tell me what to do.”
“I just did.”
Rebecca stared between them.
“What are you doing?”
David’s expression changed.
He looked almost bored.
“Cleaning up.”
For the first time, Rebecca looked afraid.
“David.”
“You were supposed to obtain Eleanor’s signature quietly.”
“She resisted.”
“So you beat her?”
“She wouldn’t—”
“And Marcus allowed himself to be recorded.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“Careful.”
David fired.
The blast inside the dealership was deafening.
Marcus flew backward.
Grace screamed behind the tape.
Rebecca stared at her brother on the floor.
Blood spread beneath him.
“Oh my God.”
David pumped the shotgun.
“Move.”
He had never intended to split anything.
Not with Marcus.
Maybe not with Rebecca.
We walked into the dealership office.
David made me sit.
Rebecca remained standing.
“You shot him.”
“He became a liability.”
“He’s your brother.”
“Half brother.”
Her eyes filled with something close to hatred.
“You’re sick.”
David laughed.
“And you’ve spent eight months starving an old woman for mineral deeds.”
Rebecca said nothing.
“No moral high ground left, Becky.”
Becky.
For the first time, I saw her as someone other than Allison.
Not my wife.
Rebecca Holloway.
A criminal who had worn another woman’s name like clothing.
David looked at me.
“Where are the originals?”
“Police evidence.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You wouldn’t let the police have them.”
“You don’t know me very well.”
“I know you better than your wife does.”
Rebecca flinched.
David smiled.
“Did she tell you about us?”
I looked at Rebecca.
Her face drained.
“About what?”
David leaned against the desk.
“She didn’t.”
“David.”
“Oh, come on. Marriage is built on honesty.”
He looked delighted.
“Rebecca and I aren’t siblings.”
I stared at him.
Marcus had been her half brother.
Dad had said David was another brother.
“What are you?”
“Business partners.”
Rebecca whispered, “Stop.”
David ignored her.
“And lovers.”
The words hung in the air.
I thought seeing Rebecca kiss Marcus in my kitchen had been the worst thing I could learn.
Apparently my life had floors beneath the basement.
David continued.
“Your father misunderstood our connection. Samuel raised me after my mother died. That’s all.”
“You extended my Saudi contract.”
“Yes.”
“You accessed my account.”
“Rebecca gave me the password.”
“You were in my house?”
“Many times.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“You brought him into our home?”
She stared at the floor.
David laughed.
“You really did love her.”
I wanted to kill him.
That realization came calmly.
Not violently.
Calmly.
Which frightened me.
But I had one advantage.
The transmitter Ruiz placed on me was still active.
David thought the police perimeter was compromised.
He did not know I had been transmitting every word.
Keep him talking.
“What’s worth killing all these people?” I asked.
“Not eighty-four million dollars.”
David smiled.
“Finally.”
“What?”
“The rights aren’t worth eighty-four million.”
Dad had told me otherwise.
“How much?”
Rebecca looked sharply at David.
“Don’t.”
He smiled at her.
“Why not? Ryder deserves the truth.”
He leaned toward me.
“The last geological survey identified a deeper formation beneath the Mercer parcels.”
My engineering instincts woke up.
“What formation?”
“Helium.”
I blinked.
Not oil.
Not gas.
Helium.
High-grade helium deposits had become extraordinarily valuable because of medical imaging, aerospace systems, semiconductor manufacturing.
David continued.
“Your father’s mineral rights include non-hydrocarbon gases.”
“How much?”
“Potentially?”
He smiled.
“Over six hundred million.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
There it was.
Six hundred million dollars.
Enough money to corrupt families.
Companies.
Police.
Maybe governments.
David pointed the shotgun at me.
“And unlike oil royalties, development hasn’t begun. Whoever controls those assignments controls the negotiations.”
“You don’t need Mom dead.”
“We need clean title.”
“You forged it.”
“Forgery creates risk.”
“So does murder.”
“Only if people prove it.”
Sirens grew louder.
David checked his watch.
“Time.”
He grabbed Rebecca.
She fought him.
“Let go!”
“You’re coming.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He pressed the shotgun barrel under her chin.
“You don’t have a choice.”
She looked at me.
For the first time in seven years, Rebecca Holloway asked me for help with her real eyes.
Not manipulation.
Not charm.
Terror.
“Ryder.”
I said nothing.
She had beaten my mother.
Threatened Grace.
Stolen identities.
Betrayed me.
But I still couldn’t stand there while David murdered her.
I looked toward the office window.
Reflected in the glass was a small red dot.
SWAT.
David didn’t see it.
I dropped to the floor.
The window exploded.
David screamed.
The shotgun fired into the ceiling.
Rebecca ran.
Police poured into the building.
I rolled toward Grace.
“Stay down!”
Marcus groaned near the service bay.
Alive.
Ruiz entered with her weapon raised.
“David Kessler! Don’t move!”
David lay behind the desk clutching his shoulder.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
Ruiz kicked the shotgun away and cuffed him.
I pulled the tape from Grace’s mouth.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
She began crying.
“Your mother.”
“She’s safe.”
Then I looked toward the entrance.
Rebecca was gone.
Again.
Ruiz swore.
“Find her!”
Officers spread through the building.
Ten minutes later, they found the rear door open.
Rebecca had escaped.
But she left something behind.
Her phone.
The screen was cracked.
One unfinished text sat open.
TO: UNKNOWN NUMBER
David knows about the helium. Marcus is down. Ryder has the box. Get Eleanor out of the hospital NOW.
My blood went cold.
I called Mom’s room.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
I called the officer assigned outside her room.
Voicemail.
Ruiz saw my face.
“What?”
“Mom.”
We ran.
By the time we reached the hospital, the room was empty.
The officer guarding her had been found unconscious in a stairwell.
My mother’s bed was gone.
Her IV line lay dripping on the floor.
May you like
And written across the wall in red marker were six words.
RYDER, YOUR FATHER STARTED THIS WAR.
