Chapter 9 - THE NIGHT THE VALENTINES RAN
Richard Valentine had spent his life making other people run.
That night, he ran with us.
There was something almost poetic about it.
Not enough to make me forgive him.
But almost.
Brennan crashed an SUV through the hedge behind the estate.
Matthew lifted Daniel into the back.
My mother climbed beside him.
Richard stood frozen for half a second as Circle vehicles poured through the main drive.
I shouted, “Move!”
He looked at me.
Maybe nobody had ordered him around in forty years.
Then he moved.
Gunfire struck the stone wall behind us.
We piled into the SUV.
Brennan accelerated across the frozen lawn.
A black vehicle intercepted from the left.
Matthew fired through the window.
Its windshield shattered.
The SUV spun.
We reached the rear service road.
Two of Matthew’s men followed.
The third vehicle exploded behind us.
Nobody spoke.
Brennan tightened his grip on the wheel.
“Danny and Cruz are gone.”
Matthew stared forward.
Another two people dead because of my family.
I looked at the red drive.
How many more would die for it?
Daniel noticed.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Blame yourself.”
“I’m holding the thing everyone’s killing for.”
“They were killing long before you held it.”
Richard laughed bitterly from the front passenger seat.
“Very noble, Mercer.”
Daniel’s weak eyes turned toward him.
“You kept me underground eighteen years.”
“And you slept with my daughter.”
My mother snapped, “I married him.”
Richard looked back.
“Same mistake with paperwork.”
I almost admired the absurdity.
We were being chased by a secret criminal network and my grandfather still found time to complain about his daughter’s husband.
Family.
Brennan took us to an underground garage beneath a closed furniture store.
Car switch.
Again.
Matthew apparently had contingency vehicles across Chicago.
We moved Daniel into a van.
His breathing worsened.
My mother checked his oxygen.
“We need a doctor.”
Richard said, “I have one.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” he asked. “I’m dying. Of course I have a doctor.”
Matthew almost smiled.
“Father, for once in your life, be useful.”
Richard gave an address in Winnetka.
The doctor turned out to be a seventy-year-old cardiologist named Dr. Elaine Cho.
She opened her back door at 1:30 a.m., saw Richard Valentine, Matthew, my mother, a supposedly dead federal prosecutor, and me holding a pistol.
She sighed.
“I told you retirement meant no house calls.”
Richard said, “This isn’t technically a house call.”
She let us in.
Daniel had pneumonia, dehydration, muscle wasting, and what Dr. Cho described as “a truly impressive collection of untreated complications.”
He needed a hospital.
Impossible.
She stabilized him in a guest bedroom.
I sat beside him until sunrise.
“You don’t have to stay,” he said.
“I know.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“You answer questions like Isabelle.”
“I’ll add it to the list.”
His eyes moved toward the window.
“I looked for you.”
“So did Matthew.”
Daniel nodded.
“Helen was better at hiding you than all of us were at finding.”
“Did you know Helen?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She worked for Richard.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Accountant.”
Of course.
Every person who saved me had apparently once worked for the monster.
“She discovered irregularities,” Daniel explained. “That’s how she met your mother.”
“And helped her steal evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Why did Helen tell me the Valentines wanted me dead?”
“She needed you afraid enough not to go back.”
That hurt.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it worked.
Fear had protected me.
But it had also shaped every year of my life.
Daniel looked at me.
“She loved you.”
“I know.”
“She gave up everything.”
“I know.”
“Then remember that part too.”
I looked at him.
“You’ve been underground eighteen years and you’re giving me therapy?”
“Occupational hazard.”
“You were a prosecutor.”
“Same thing, fewer couches.”
I laughed.
It surprised us both.
Then his expression turned serious.
“The red drive.”
I touched my bag.
“What’s on it?”
“Names.”
“Whose?”
“Everyone who matters to the Circle.”
“Government?”
“Yes.”
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“Business?”
“Yes.”
“Media?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the closed door.
“Matthew?”
Daniel paused.
That was enough.
My chest tightened.
“Is Matthew on it?”
“Not in the way you think.”
“What way?”
“Matthew has worked with Circle businesses for years.”
“He didn’t know.”
“Maybe.”
I stood.
“You don’t trust him.”
“No.”
“He saved me.”
“So did Richard once.”
That stopped me.
Daniel continued.
“Love and loyalty are not the same as innocence.”
I left the room.
Matthew sat downstairs with Brennan.
Richard slept in an armchair.
My mother stood by the window.
I looked at Matthew.
“Are you on the drive?”
His expression changed.
“How would I know?”
“Daniel says you worked with Circle companies.”
Matthew looked toward the stairs.
“Daniel spent eighteen years in a hole. His market intelligence may be outdated.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He stood.
“I knew certain companies paid us. I knew judges protected us. I knew politicians made calls. I did not know they belonged to something called the Circle.”
“Did you ever wonder why?”
“Every criminal wonders why the world keeps functioning. Then we profit from it.”
At least he didn’t sanitize himself.
My mother turned.
“Matthew.”
He looked at her.
“You always knew more than you admitted.”
“So did you.”
“That doesn’t answer Evelyn.”
He laughed.
“Apparently honesty arrived with breakfast.”
My mother crossed the room.
“Did Richard ever send you to meet Alan Reeves?”
Matthew’s face changed.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“How many?”
“Twelve.”
Richard opened his eyes.
Everyone turned.
He had not been asleep.
“What meeting?”
Matthew looked at him.
“You sent me to the Drake. Reeves gave me a list of construction bids.”
Richard sat up.
“I never sent you.”
Silence.
Matthew frowned.
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“You called me.”
Richard looked genuinely confused.
“I did not.”
I felt cold.
“Someone impersonated him.”
Matthew’s face drained.
The Circle.
A phone rang.
Dr. Cho’s landline.
Everyone froze.
She entered from the hallway.
“Nobody has this number.”
Richard stood.
“Don’t answer.”
It stopped.
Then rang again.
And again.
Dr. Cho looked at us.
I answered.
A man’s voice.
Same one from the vault.
“Good morning, Evelyn.”
“You need a hobby.”
He laughed.
“Still defiant.”
“How did you find us?”
“I didn’t.”
I looked around.
“Then why call here?”
“Because Richard gave Dr. Cho this house twenty-two years ago.”
Dr. Cho went pale.
Richard stared at her.
“What?”
She whispered, “You said it was a gift.”
The voice continued.
“Every Valentine safe house was ours before it was yours.”
My stomach tightened.
“We can reach you anywhere.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
“Because I want the drive intact.”
“Come ask nicely.”
“I prefer leverage.”
A television turned on by itself.
The screen changed.
Live video.
The diner.
Carla.
She had returned to collect her things with two of Matthew’s guards.
Now she stood outside.
Police surrounded her.
Chief Commissioner Alan Reeves stepped into frame.
He handcuffed Carla personally.
The voice on the phone said:
“Your friend is being charged with the murder of Colin Hayes.”
Matthew swore.
“That’s impossible.”
The man continued.
“Ballistics will match a weapon found in her apartment.”
Carla shouted at reporters that she was innocent.
Reeves smiled.
“Give us the drive,” the voice said, “and the charges disappear.”
“No.”
“Then perhaps Matthew’s charges return too.”
Another image.
Documents.
Federal indictments.
Murder.
Racketeering.
Extortion.
Enough to put him away forever.
Matthew laughed.
“Those are real.”
I looked at him.
“Real?”
“Most.”
Brennan muttered, “Bad timing for moral inventory.”
The voice continued.
“Evelyn, your family survives because we have allowed it. The era of permission is ending.”
I said, “What do you want?”
“Tonight. Navy Pier. Eleven.”
“With the drive.”
“Yes.”
“And Carla walks?”
“Yes.”
“My father gets medical treatment.”
“Yes.”
“Richard?”
A pause.
“Richard dies.”
Richard smiled.
“Finally, a clear policy.”
I continued.
“And Matthew?”
“He has a choice.”
Matthew’s face hardened.
“What choice?”
The voice answered.
“Return to us.”
Nobody spoke.
Matthew stared at the phone.
The man said:
“You have always belonged to the Circle, Matthew. Richard simply never told you.”
Richard stood.
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
The call ended.
Matthew looked at his father.
“Tell me.”
Richard’s face had gone gray.
“Matthew—”
“Tell me.”
Richard said nothing.
Matthew picked up a glass and threw it into the wall.
“Tell me!”
My grandfather looked at his son.
Then at me.
And finally confessed.
“When you were fourteen, after the fire, the twenty million dollars didn’t come from me.”
Matthew froze.
Richard continued.
“The Circle paid you.”
“For what?”
“To become mine.”
Matthew stared.
May you like
Richard whispered:
“You were never my biological son.”
