Wrong building, Grandpa?” they laughed after taping a diaper to my desk and destroying the notebook my daughter gave me / Chapter 5 / 53

Chapter 5 - Shadows on the Perimeter

Class let out at eight. The night air hit my lungs like cold river water. Chase lingered behind, avoiding the exit until the other students had dispersed into the parking lot. I stood by my old Ford F-150, warming up the engine while scraping a thin layer of frost off the windshield.

Headlights cut through the mist at the far end of the lot. A dark SUV with tinted windows idle near the gate, its headlights turned off, only the amber running lights cutting through the darkness.

I set my ice scraper in the truck bed and kept my eyes on the vehicle. Victor Bell was in custody, but thirty years of kickbacks, backroom political favors, and dirty union contracts don’t vanish when the sheriff cuffs one man. Victor had associates: contractors who skimmed asphalt money, corrupt city inspectors who signed off on cracked foundations, and private enforcers who kept dissenters quiet.

A tap came against my elbow. I turned quickly, my knuckles tightening, but it was only Chase. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, his breath pluming in the freeze.

"Mr. Reed," he muttered, unable to meet my eyes. "Those guys... that’s Marcus Vance’s truck over by the gate."

I narrowed my eyes. Vance was Victor Bell’s chief of operations for Bell Construction, a former bouncer with a felony record who ran the company’s non-union demo crews. "What’s Vance doing here?"

"They were at the house before the police came," Chase whispered, his voice shaking with real fear. "Vance wanted the safety deposit keys from my dad’s study. He told my dad that if the feds pull the sub-contract ledgers, half the county council goes down with him. My dad told Vance that everything was locked in the company safe downtown, but Vance knows that’s a lie. My dad kept the real files backed up on a private server at our lake house."

"Why are you telling me this, Chase?"

Chase looked at his own shoes, his lip trembling. "Because when the police put cuffs on my dad... he didn't even look at me. He looked at Vance and said, 'Clean it up.' He didn't care about me. He didn't care about my mom. He just wanted the ledgers burned. You... you gave me a pencil when you should have broken my jaw."

Before I could answer, the dark SUV accelerated slowly across the asphalt, creeping toward my truck like a prowling wolf. It rolled past us just ten feet away. The driver’s window lowered an inch. Through the gap, I saw the thick neck and dead eyes of Marcus Vance. He tapped a burning cigarette against the rim, staring directly at me, before hitting the gas and tearing out onto the county road, leaving a smear of burning rubber behind.

"Go home to your mother, Chase," I ordered, opening my driver’s side door. "Lock the doors. Don't talk to Vance, and don't touch anything in your father's house."

"Where are you going?" Chase asked frantically.