Chapter 5 - The Father Behind the Wall
Richard Vale was found in an abandoned warehouse before sunrise.
He was alive.
Barely.
And he was terrified.
When Ortiz brought him to a secure interview room, Vale refused to speak until he saw Maya.
“I owe your father.”
Maya crossed her arms.
“Then talk.”
Vale rubbed his bruised jaw.
“Daniel didn't steal anything.”
“I know.”
“Victor created the entire scheme.”
“Why?”
“Your father planned to expose him.”
“Then why disappear?”
“Because Victor had one advantage.”
“What?”
“Your mother's medical records.”
Maya frowned.
“What do they have to do with anything?”
Vale hesitated.
“Victor discovered your mother's old insurance fraud case from years ago. He threatened to expose her and take custody of Toby through a legal manipulation.”
Maya's stomach tightened.
“My mother never committed insurance fraud.”
“She didn't. But paperwork can be manipulated.”
Maya looked at Ortiz.
Vale continued.
“Daniel needed someone outside the family to move the evidence.”
“That was Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“Where is my father now?”
Vale lowered his voice.
“There's a house.”
“What house?”
“Your father's original family home.”
Maya almost laughed.
“He sold it.”
“No.”
Vale shook his head.
“He transferred it into a trust.”
Ortiz looked surprised.
“For whom?”
Vale looked directly at Maya.
“You.”
Maya said nothing.
The house was in West Virginia.
The same place where her father supposedly died.
They drove there that morning.
Ethan insisted on coming.
“You're still injured,” Maya said.
“I'll complain about it later.”
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
The house stood at the edge of a wooded hill.
The windows were boarded.
Dust covered the furniture.
But the electricity still worked.
Maya walked through rooms she barely remembered from childhood.
A piano.
A fireplace.
An old blue couch.
Then Ethan found a hidden panel behind a bookshelf.
Inside was a narrow passage.
Maya stared.
“My father built this?”
“He trusted hiding places more than locks.”
They entered.
At the end of the passage was a small room.
There was a desk.
A lamp.
Photographs.
And a medical oxygen machine.
Maya's hand flew to her mouth.
Someone had been living there.
Recently.
On the desk was a note.
Maya.
I am sorry.
Her knees weakened.
She held the page.
The writing was unmistakable.
Dad.
Beneath the note was an address.
A motel.
They rushed there.
Room 217 was empty.
But a television was still on.
A news report showed Daniel Bennett's old photograph.
The anchor was discussing the Route 18 crash.
Then another image appeared.
Ethan.
Maya.
Toby.
All three were being shown on television.
Someone had leaked their identities.
Ethan turned off the screen.
“We're out of time.”
A knock came at the door.
Maya froze.
“Who is it?”
A voice answered.
Her father's voice.
“Maya?”
She stopped breathing.
Ethan reached for his weapon.
Maya opened the door.
A man stood there.
Older.
Gray hair.
A scar along his cheek.
And brown eyes.
Daniel Bennett.
Her father looked at her for one second.
Then Maya struck him.
Once.
Twice.
Then collapsed against his chest.
“You're alive.”
Daniel held her like he had been waiting eleven years.
“I’m sorry.”
She cried.
“You're horrible.”
“I know.”
“You let me think you were dead.”
“I know.”
“You missed everything.”
“I know.”
She hit his chest again.
Then she buried her face in his shirt.
For the first time in eleven years, Maya heard her father's heartbeat.
But the reunion lasted less than five minutes.
Daniel looked at Ethan.
“You came back.”
Ethan smiled.
“Apparently getting hit by a truck wasn't enough.”
Daniel's expression turned serious.
“Victor knows where we are.”
“Then we move,” Ethan said.
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because it's time to stop running.”
