Nora located Victor Shaw the following morning.
He lived in a small apartment outside the city under a name Finnley did not recognize.
“He changed his surname,” Nora explained.
“Why?”
“I haven't asked him yet.”
They met in a café where the tables were close enough that conversations overlapped.
Victor arrived late.
He was thinner than Finnley expected, with gray at his temples and a nervous habit of rubbing his thumb against his index finger.
When he saw Finnley, he stopped.
“I wondered when you would find me.”
Finnley remained seated.
“You knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“You trained me.”
Victor sat down.
“Yes.”
“Why did your name appear on the drive?”
Victor looked at Nora.
Then at Finnley.
“Because your father was trying to prove something.”
“What?”
“That your access credentials were created before you were officially authorized to use the system.”
Finnley frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does if someone wanted your identity available before you ever touched the company's money.”
Finnley stared at him.
“When were my credentials created?”
Victor gave him a date.
Finnley knew immediately.
He had still been in school.
He hadn't even applied for the position.
“Who ordered them?”
Victor shook his head.
“I was told they were part of a future employee setup.”
“By whom?”
“Carter.”
Finnley felt the answer like a blow.
“But Carter trained me.”
“Yes.”
“And he created my credentials?”
Victor nodded.
“Under instructions.”
“Whose?”
Victor hesitated.
“Reagan.”
Nora watched him carefully.
“Can you prove that?”
Victor reached into his coat.
He placed an old paper file on the table.
Inside was a printed authorization request.
The signature belonged to Reagan.
Finnley stared at it.
The date was years before his conviction.
The request created an administrative profile using his name.
It also gave Carter permission to manage the account.
Finnley read the document again.
“Why did you keep this?”
“Because I knew something was wrong.”
“And you waited until now?”
Victor looked ashamed.
“I was afraid.”
Finnley said nothing.
Victor continued.
“After your arrest, I tried to tell Camden what I knew. He already suspected it. But someone threatened my family.”
“Who?”
“I never saw him.”
“Then how do you know who sent the threat?”
“I don't.”
Victor's answer was honest.
Finnley recognized that.
“Why did you leave?”
“Because Camden fired me.”
Finnley looked confused.
“Why would he fire you if you were helping him?”
“He didn't know I was helping him.”
Victor leaned forward.
“I had been investigating the system quietly. I found that duplicate credentials were being created. I found that someone was accessing the company network from the house.”
“The house again.”
Victor nodded.
“I told Camden.”
“What did he do?”
“He became convinced the problem was bigger than the company.”
Finnley thought about the hidden drive.
“He suspected Reagan?”
Victor shook his head.
“Not at first.”
“Who?”
“Your father thought the person behind it was someone with financial access outside the company.”
“Victor, I need names.”
Victor looked at him.
“Martin Vale.”
The name meant nothing to Finnley.
Nora immediately wrote it down.
“Who is Martin Vale?” she asked.
Victor answered quietly.
“He was your father's business partner before the company expanded.”
Finnley stared.
“Why have I never heard of him?”
“Because he left years before your arrest.”
“Where is he now?”
Victor shook his head.
“Dead.”
Finnley felt the investigation shift again.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“About eight months before your arrest.”
Nora looked at Victor.
“Was the accident investigated?”
“Yes.”
“Anything suspicious?”
Victor looked down.
“I don't know.”
Finnley thought about Camden's final recording.
The person who framed you is not the person you think.
Maybe Camden had meant someone connected to Martin.
Maybe the investigation had been broader than Finnley understood.
Victor opened the file again.
“There was one thing Martin controlled.”
“What?”
“A private trust.”
Finnley waited.
Victor explained that the trust had financial connections to several businesses, including one of the companies that later received suspicious consulting payments.
Finnley felt a chill.
“So Martin was connected to the money.”
“Possibly.”
“But he's dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then someone inherited it.”
Victor looked at him.
“That is what Camden was trying to find.”
Finnley turned toward Nora.
“We need the trust records.”
Nora nodded.
Victor reached into his bag again.
“I have something else.”
He placed a small envelope on the table.
Finnley opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Martin Vale standing beside Camden.
A third person stood between them.
Finnley recognized her.
Reagan.
He looked at Victor.
“When was this taken?”
“Before you were born.”
Finnley turned the photograph over.
A date.
A company event.
Nothing else.
But there was a handwritten note.
Camden's handwriting.
“Three people built the first system.”
Finnley stared.
“What does that mean?”
Victor shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Finnley looked at Reagan's face.
She had known Camden long before Finnley understood their family.
She had known Martin.
She had known the company before Finnley ever entered it.
And she had apparently signed the request that created his credentials.
The pieces were becoming more complicated, not simpler.
Victor lowered his voice.
“There's one more thing you should know.”
Finnley waited.
“Martin's accident happened the week before he was going to meet your father.”
“Why?”
“To give him documents.”
“What documents?”
“I don't know.”
“Who was supposed to receive them?”
“Camden.”
Finnley looked at the photograph again.
Three people.
One company.
A dead business partner.
A hidden drive.
A false conviction.
And a stepmother whose history reached farther back than he had imagined.
Nora checked the time.
“We should go.”
Finnley stood.
Victor caught his arm.
“There's another reason I agreed to meet you.”
Finnley looked back.
“Your father told me something.”
“What?”
“He said that if you ever found me, it meant the person behind everything had lost control of the evidence.”
Finnley released Victor's arm.
“What did he mean?”
Victor looked frightened again.
“He said you would be in more danger than you realized.”
Finnley's phone vibrated.
A message.
He opened it.
There was no text.
Only an image.
The same photograph of Martin, Camden, and Reagan.
But someone had circled Reagan's face.
Underneath was one sentence.
“You still don't know what she was protecting.”
Finnley looked up.
Victor was staring at the phone.
“You received that too?”
“No.”
“Then someone is watching me.”
Victor nodded slowly.
“Or watching everyone who helps you.”
Finnley slipped the phone into his pocket.
He knew now that the truth was older than his conviction.
The question was whether his father had left enough evidence to survive the people who had spent years hiding it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Reagan Finally Admitted She Had Protected Someone, but Her Confession Raised a More Dangerous Question About Who Ordered Finnley’s Arrest
Three Years Behind Bars Ended at a Locked Door, Where Finnley Learned the Man He Came Home For Had Been Dead Without Him
Part 10 of 20
