Chapter 5 - the fire that erased a name
The fire moved too quickly.
That was the first thing Daniel noticed.
Within thirty seconds, flames appeared in two separate windows on opposite sides of Hawthorne’s third floor.
“Accelerant,” he said.
Jonathan stared at the building.
“They’re destroying records.”
“Or people.”
Jonathan moved toward the gate.
Daniel blocked him.
“No.”
“My daughter could be in there.”
“The guard said she was transferred.”
“He could be wrong.”
Sirens began in the distance.
The guard opened the gate.
Staff members poured out of the building.
Some wore scrubs.
Others carried folders or bags.
Daniel pointed toward a white-haired doctor crossing the courtyard.
“That’s Malcolm Vale.”
Jonathan recognized him from Hawthorne’s website.
Vale saw Jonathan.
He stopped.
Then turned and ran.
Daniel followed.
Jonathan went after them.
Vale reached a side parking lot and fumbled with his keys.
Daniel caught him against the door of a black sedan.
“Where is Christina Prescott?”
Vale’s face turned pale.
“I don’t know.”
Jonathan arrived seconds later.
The doctor looked at him.
Fear replaced denial.
“Mr. Prescott.”
“You treated my daughter.”
“I was instructed not to use her real identity.”
“By Samuel Creed.”
Vale said nothing.
Jonathan stepped closer.
“Where is she?”
“I can’t tell you.”
Daniel pushed the doctor’s phone onto the roof of the car.
“You can tell him, or you can tell the police after they discover a private medical facility owned by Samuel Creed caught fire the moment Jonathan Prescott arrived.”
Vale’s shoulders dropped.
“I never agreed to any kidnapping.”
“You treated a woman under a false identity.”
“I was told she was a psychiatric risk.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
The answer came almost as a whisper.
Jonathan’s anger sharpened.
“What happened?”
“She arrived sedated. She regained consciousness the following morning. She was disoriented but lucid.”
“Did she ask to leave?”
“Yes.”
“And you stopped her.”
Vale looked ashamed.
“Samuel produced guardianship documents.”
“Forged?”
“I learned later.”
Jonathan’s fists tightened.
“Where did you send her?”
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
“Samuel.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Jonathan turned away.
Vale called after him.
“But I know who drove.”
“Evan Mercer.”
Vale nodded.
“He was terrified afterward. Samuel fired him.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel held up his phone.
“I do.”
He had found an address.
Evan Mercer lived thirty miles west in a small apartment complex.
Jonathan looked back at Hawthorne.
Firefighters were arriving.
Police vehicles followed.
“Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Give them everything.”
“You want to involve police now?”
Jonathan watched flames break through the roof.
“Yes.”
Samuel had crossed beyond secrecy.
This was no longer a private family crisis.
It was organized criminal conduct.
But Jonathan still did not trust the local chain around Hawthorne.
“Contact state investigators directly. And federal financial crimes.”
Daniel nodded.
Jonathan looked at Vale.
“You are going to tell them everything.”
The doctor seemed relieved.
“I will.”
Two hours later, Jonathan stood outside Evan Mercer’s apartment.
The door was slightly open.
Daniel stopped him.
They entered carefully.
The apartment was empty.
Not abandoned.
Dinner sat untouched on the table.
A television played silently.
One shoe lay in the hallway.
Daniel checked the rooms.
“No one.”
Jonathan noticed a photograph on the refrigerator.
Evan with an older woman.
Behind the photograph was a folded piece of paper.
Jonathan pulled it free.
It was a receipt from a gas station.
On the back, somebody had written three words.
BLUE TRAIN 472.
Jonathan took out the USB.
One encrypted folder was called Blue Train.
“Leo.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What about him?”
“Christina used to play trains with Leo.”
Jonathan called the estate.
Florence answered under supervision.
“Put Leo on.”
A moment later, the boy’s sleepy voice came through.
“Grandpa?”
Jonathan softened instantly.
“Hey, buddy. I need you to remember something.”
“Okay.”
“Did Mommy ever talk about a blue train?”
Silence.
Then Leo said, “My birthday train.”
“What about it?”
“Mommy say number.”
Jonathan looked at the paper.
“What number?”
“Four seven two.”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
Password.
Christina had hidden the key inside something only Leo might remember.
Back at the car, Daniel opened the USB on an offline laptop.
The Blue Train folder accepted 472.
Inside were photographs, bank records, recordings, and a document titled FIRST MAP.
Jonathan opened it.
A diagram appeared.
At the center were Prescott Industries and Prescott Family Trust.
Lines connected them to shell companies, medical facilities, real estate partnerships, and offshore accounts.
Samuel Creed’s name appeared repeatedly.
So did Florence Fairmont’s.
But another name appeared even more often.
Jonathan stared at it.
He knew the name.
Everyone in his company did.
Nolan Pierce.
Chief Financial Officer of Prescott Industries.
Jonathan’s right hand in business.
The man who had stood beside Samuel at Jonathan’s wife’s funeral.
The man Jonathan had personally appointed to oversee Christina’s inheritance.
Then Daniel opened an audio file.
Christina’s voice filled the car.
“If you found this, Samuel knows I discovered the trust changes.”
She took a shaky breath.
“But Samuel isn’t stealing from Dad.”
Jonathan frowned.
Christina continued.
“He’s trying to steal the company after Dad dies.”
May you like
A pause.
“And he has already changed Leo’s inheritance.”
