Finnley returned to the Silver Lake house alone.
Marcus had told him not to.
Nora had told him not to.
Even Victor had warned him.
He went anyway.
He did not intend to confront Reagan.
He intended to ask one question.
Who was Martin Vale?
Reagan opened the door.
She looked exhausted.
Not frightened this time.
Exhausted.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
“Tell me about Martin.”
Her expression changed.
Finnley watched it happen.
Recognition first.
Then calculation.
Finally resignation.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“My father.”
“Camden talked too much.”
“Not enough.”
Reagan stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Finnley entered the house.
The remodeled hallway felt different now.
He could almost see the old home beneath it.
The old photographs.
The wooden table.
His mother's portrait.
His father's chair.
Reagan closed the door.
“You've been digging.”
“Yes.”
“You found Elaine.”
“Yes.”
“Victor.”
“Yes.”
Reagan sat down.
Finnley remained standing.
“Did you create my company credentials before I worked there?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
The admission came so quickly that he almost doubted he had heard it.
“Why?”
“Because Camden wanted you prepared.”
“That isn't what Victor said.”
“Victor doesn't know everything.”
“Then tell me.”
Reagan rubbed her forehead.
“I created the credentials because Martin asked me to.”
Finnley stared.
“Martin was dead before I joined the company.”
“He wasn't dead then.”
Finnley felt the room tilt.
“When?”
“Before the accident.”
“Why would Martin need my credentials?”
“He didn't.”
“Then why?”
Reagan looked away.
“Because he was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That someone was taking money.”
Finnley laughed once, without humor.
“So everyone knew except me.”
“No.”
“You all knew enough to make me look guilty.”
Reagan stood.
“I did not frame you.”
“Then who did?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
Finnley studied her.
For years, he had imagined confronting her.
He had imagined shouting.
Demanding answers.
Instead, he felt tired.
“What were you protecting?”
Reagan's eyes filled with tears.
She looked toward the staircase.
“Carter.”
Finnley went still.
“Why?”
“Because he was being used.”
“By whom?”
“I don't know.”
“Reagan.”
She closed her eyes.
“Martin had debts.”
Finnley frowned.
“Carter?”
“No. Martin.”
Reagan explained that Martin had borrowed heavily before the company expanded. When Camden discovered the debts, he threatened to remove Martin from the business.
Martin retaliated.
He created hidden financial arrangements.
He manipulated company records.
But Reagan insisted she had not known the full extent of it.
“Then why protect Carter?”
“Because Carter discovered what Martin had done.”
“And?”
“He tried to expose it.”
Finnley stared.
“Carter?”
“Yes.”
That contradicted everything Finnley believed.
Reagan continued.
“Carter was reckless. He made terrible choices. But he wasn't responsible for your conviction.”
Finnley thought about the photograph.
“He lied about being at the accounting office.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was meeting someone.”
“Who?”
Reagan hesitated.
“Martin.”
Finnley's eyes widened.
“Martin was alive?”
“At that time.”
“When was the photograph taken?”
“The night before Martin disappeared.”
Finnley felt cold.
“His accident happened afterward.”
Reagan nodded.
“Carter was supposed to give Martin documents.”
“What documents?”
“The original company access records.”
Finnley remembered the missing page.
The second key.
The drive.
Everything suddenly connected.
“Where are those records?”
Reagan shook her head.
“Camden found them.”
“And Martin?”
“He took them.”
“Then how did he die?”
“I don't know.”
Finnley stared.
“You keep saying you don't know.”
“Because I don't.”
He believed one thing.
She was withholding something.
But he no longer knew whether she was protecting Carter or herself.
“What did my father know?”
“Enough to understand that you were being set up.”
“Then why didn't he stop it?”
“He tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
Reagan flinched.
“He was sick.”
Finnley looked away.
The anger he had carried for three years had always needed somewhere to land.
He had blamed his father for not rescuing him.
Now he was beginning to understand that Camden had been fighting a battle Finnley never knew existed.
Reagan walked toward a cabinet.
She opened it and removed a sealed envelope.
“I was supposed to destroy this.”
Finnley took it.
“What is it?”
“Something Camden gave me.”
He opened it.
Inside was a letter.
Camden's handwriting.
It was addressed to Reagan.
Finnley read.
The letter said Camden knew Reagan had helped Martin establish the original financial system.
He knew she had later tried to dismantle it.
He knew she had protected Carter after Martin's disappearance.
But he also wrote that he had discovered one thing she had never admitted.
Someone had continued using Martin's network after his death.
Finnley looked up.
“Who?”
Reagan shook her head.
“Camden never told me.”
The letter continued.
If anything happens to me, do not let Finnley believe the person responsible is the person standing closest to him.
Finnley read the sentence twice.
Reagan's voice trembled.
“Your father wanted you to find the truth yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn't know who he could trust.”
Finnley folded the letter.
“Did you send the messages?”
“No.”
“Did Carter?”
“I don't know.”
“Who has access to the old records?”
Reagan looked toward the basement.
“Only someone who knows where Camden hid them.”
Finnley immediately thought of the drive.
“The person who photographed Elaine.”
Reagan nodded slowly.
“They're still looking.”
“For what?”
Reagan's face went pale.
“The original record.”
Finnley froze.
“What original record?”
“The one proving who authorized the first transfer.”
He stared at her.
“Where is it?”
Reagan whispered:
“Your father never put it in the drive.”
Finnley understood.
The hidden drive contained evidence.
But the one document capable of proving who started everything had been hidden somewhere else.
Reagan stepped closer.
“Finnley, you have to listen to me.”
He waited.
“The person who framed you is still alive.”
Finnley felt the old anger disappear beneath something colder.
“Who?”
Reagan opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, the front window shattered.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Finnley pulled Reagan down.
A second impact struck the wall behind them.
Then silence.
Finnley crawled toward the hallway.
Outside, tires screamed against the pavement.
By the time he reached the window, the vehicle was already disappearing around the corner.
Reagan remained on the floor.
Finnley looked at her.
“Who were you about to name?”
She stared at him.
Then she said a name he had heard before.
Victor Shaw.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: Victor’s Name Was Not the Answer Finnley Expected, and the Missing Original Record Forced Him to Question the One Man Who Had Guided Him This Far
Three Years Behind Bars Ended at a Locked Door, Where Finnley Learned the Man He Came Home For Had Been Dead Without Him
Part 11 of 20
