Chapter 9: The Ring at the Door
I called Diane before I'd even put my jacket on.
"Voss's associate came to my restaurant tonight asking about me."
A brief silence.
"Are you home now?"
"Yes."
"Stay there.
Don't go to the restaurant, don't go anywhere unfamiliar.
Is your brother with you?"
"He's here."
"Good.
Keep him there." Another pause, and I heard the sound of typing.
"This is actually useful information.
It tells us he's getting nervous, which means he suspects something has shifted.
Nervous people make mistakes."
"Or they stop being careful."
"Yes," she said.
"That too.
Which is why I'm going to make a call tonight that I was planning to make tomorrow." She didn't elaborate.
"Lock your doors.
I'll contact you in the morning."
I told Marcus.
He took it better than I expected — or maybe he was just too tired to react.
Mom called from the other room asking if we wanted tea.
We both said yes.
She came into the kitchen and put the kettle on and talked about a neighbor's dog for five minutes, and I sat there listening to her and thinking about how much she didn't know and how hard we'd both worked to keep it that way.
When she went back to her program, Marcus looked at me.
"We have to tell her eventually."
"Not tonight."
"No.
Not tonight."
The morning came slowly.
Diane called at eight.
"Two things," she said.
"First, the contacts I passed the material to have formally opened a preliminary inquiry.
It's early, but it's real and it's moving."
"And second?"
"Derrick Voss was contacted last night by someone he believed was a business associate.
That person is cooperating with investigators.
During that conversation, Voss made statements that are now on record." A pause.
"He doesn't know that yet."
I sat down.
"So the forty-eight hours — "
"Are irrelevant now.
He's already exposed himself further than the drive alone would have managed." Her voice was measured but there was something underneath it.
Satisfaction, controlled.
"You should know that Carla Stenn was identified as present during that conversation.
Her exposure is significant."
"What happens now?"
"Now you wait.
And you live your life.
Go to work.
Go to class.
Don't contact Voss.
Don't respond if he contacts you." A brief pause.
"If anything feels unsafe — physically unsafe — you call Paul immediately.
Not me.
Paul."
"Okay."
"You handled this well," she said.
"Both of you."
I hung up and looked at Marcus across the kitchen table.
"It's moving," I said.
He exhaled slowly.
"Are we safe?"
"Safer than we were yesterday."
It wasn't a full yes.
But it was the truest thing I could say.
Three days passed.
Voss sent one more message, terse and cold: *Time is up.
Deliver or face consequences.* I didn't respond.
Paul had told me not to, and Diane had confirmed it.
Silence was the right answer.
Silence said: something has changed and you don't know what.
On the fourth day, Jett texted me a news link.
A brief item in the local business section: federal investigators had executed search warrants at two commercial properties connected to a financial services company.
No names yet.
But the address of one of the properties was a building I recognized from the court filings Marcus had found.
I read it once.
Set my phone face-down.
Then I picked it up and called Marcus.
"Did you see it?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Just now."
Neither of us said anything for a moment.
May you like
"It's real," he said finally.
"It's real."
