Chapter 10 CHAPTER TEN

Theo received a message on his phone in his jacket pocket when he was two blocks away from the mansion.

He stopped and his ribs ached with the impact of Richard's fist and he gazed at the screen. Unknown number, city prefix. He put it to his ear.

"Mr. Callahan." It was a woman's voice, calm, measured. “I'm your District Attorney's Assistant Sarah Morrison. I got your submission nineteen minutes ago."

Theo's fingers clamped around the phone. "That was fast."

“Regarding the Whitmore name, I think it gets things done fast,” Sarah said. “There are some few questions I must ask you before I can figure out what to do next. Are you somewhere private?"

Theo looked over his shoulder. The top of the mansion's walls still showed, shadowed by the light of the gray morning sky. He went around and around and kept on going. “I am outside, go ahead.”

"The audio recording of Victor Whitmore," Sarah began. "Was it obtained with his knowledge?"

"No," Theo said.

“Did you consent to the recording in a one-party consent state?” Sarah asked.

"Yes.” Theo replied, "I was part of the discussion.”

“The pictures of basement documents. Did you take them before or after Victor Whitmore knew that you were in the house?” Sarah continued.

"Before. Before he found me down there, I uploaded everything to cloud storage,” Theo said, his jaw tightening at the memory of standing pressed against that wall, heart hammering, Victor's flashlight cutting through the dark.

“So, before anyone could interfere with the evidence, it left the building," said Sarah.

"Correct," Theo replied.

The sound was a slight scratching noise of a pen moving. Sarah was writing. Not typing. Writing, which meant that she was taking this conversation seriously and recording it by hand. Theo's chest relaxed a bit.

“Mr. Callahan,” Sarah said carefully, “the insurance fraud documentation alone is significant criminal exposure to the Whitmore family, but the recorded conversation, specifically the part in which Victor Whitmore admits to orchestrating the disappearance of Michael Callahan. The nature of this changes it all.”

Theo stopped walking. He clenched his teeth and tried to take deep breaths. “I know what it means.”

"I want to be stern with you. If this evidence is found to be accurate, it's not a civil case or a financial investigation, it's a murder case.” Sarah said.

The words dropped on Theo's head in a way that he didn't expect. He knew it in his mind since he had sent it. His knees suddenly felt shaky when it came from the person who has the authority to do what he said. He pushed the open hand against the brick wall next to him and calmed himself.

“Where are you going to spend the night?” Sarah asked.

"I am working that out.” Theo said.

"Do not go back to the Whitmore property at any time. And Mr. Callahan say nothing to the press. Not a word. Are you listening, do you understand?” Sarah said emphatically.

"Understood," Theo replied.

"I will be in contact within the hour," Sarah said, and the line went dead.

Theo lowered the phone down gently. His face suddenly caught in a darkened shop window across the street: unshaven, a split lip swelling, rumpled jacket from the violence of the morning. He was scarcely familiar with himself. He picked up his phone and sent a message to David. Morrison called. She's taking this as murder prosecution. Looking for accommodation. The response was received within a few seconds. Get here now. Door's open.

Richard knocked on the door of Victor's study with a hard slap, making the door rattle as if it were loose.

“Open it,” Richard snarled, his knuckles raw from the punches he'd thrown at Theo. He struck another blow on the door. "Victor."

The door opened. Victor stood before them, without a moment's hesitation, his emotions hidden from view, his silver hair well combed, his body clad from head to foot with a complete change of clothes to match the time. Two men in dark suits were sitting behind him with papers spread out on the desk. Richard knew Garfield, the elder in the family who was in charge of legal matters. The other man he had not come across in his life before.

"Lower your voice," Victor said quietly.

"He's gone." Richard went into the study, tightening his jaw as he went. “All that Theo found in that basement, he has it and you're in here playing at paperwork.”

Victor shut the door and said, "Sit down, Richard".

Richard looked his father in the eyes, turning away and saying, "I don't want to sit down. Did he take pictures of the room? The files? Graham's confession? The Callahan material?"

Victor said nothing. He drew up to his side of the desk with a measured and controlled movement, as someone who had been making decisions when it mattered for thirty years.

Richard's stomach dropped. He came forward, placing both hands on the desk, leaning in so close he could see the slight strain at the corner of Victor's eye. “You've taken his phone, you've had a look at it, you tell me that you had a look at it.”

Victor looked to Garfield then to Richard.

Richard straightened slowly. His face paled and stiffened. “He has provided you with a fake phone.”

Victor was silent and it confirmed everything.

Richard abruptly stepped away, his fist holding the window glass, and looked out at the empty driveway. Gray light played across the lawn in flat sheets in the morning. Theo Callahan was strolling away somewhere, with enough proof to bury them all.

“There's a very short window,” Garfield said carefully to Victor. “Some messages must be sent out ahead of any external enquiries. If there are people who owe the family some consideration, it is time to…“

Victor cut in and said, "I know what I need to do,” without raising voice. He picked up his phone from his desk, scrolled to a name and dialed it.

Richard watched his father's face as the line connected. Victor's face was expressionless, rehearsed, unreadable.

However, Richard had been raised with that face. There was a change under the stillness, behind the gray, cold eyes. There in thirty-two years he had never seen something like this.

Doubt.

Victor was not certain he could stop this. And if Victor was not certain, then nothing in Richard's world was certain either.

Richard turned back to the window, his reflection staring back at him in the glass, and said nothing at all.