Chapter 9 - THE OFFICE NOBODY USED.
Blake did not go alone.
That decision disappointed nearly every instinct he had.
Naomi called Deputy Bell.
Bell called a detective.
The detective called the property owner.
By the time anybody entered the abandoned title office, six hours had passed.
Six hours felt ridiculous when Blake imagined somebody emptying filing cabinets.
It felt responsible when he remembered that evidence collected illegally could become useless.
The office sat between a tax-preparation service and a vacant storefront.
Dust covered the front windows.
No sign.
No lights.
Inside, the place looked abandoned but not empty.
Two desks.
Metal filing cabinets.
An old printer.
Boxes.
The property owner said Bellweather Land Services had rented the space for less than a year.
Paid on time.
Left suddenly.
“Who worked here?” Detective Melissa Grant asked.
The owner shrugged.
“Different people.”
“Names?”
“No idea.”
“You leased commercial space without names?”
“I leased to an LLC. Lawyer handled it.”
“Which lawyer?”
The answer was predictable.
Everett Shaw.
Naomi stood beside Blake.
“You’re enjoying being right too much.”
“I’m not enjoying any of this.”
“You know what I mean.”
He did.
The detectives searched only what they were authorized to examine.
That meant Blake spent most of the afternoon waiting.
Again.
Power moved through procedure.
If you respected procedure, it moved slowly.
If you could afford armies of people who understood procedure, it sometimes moved much faster.
At 4:18 p.m., Detective Grant walked outside carrying a plastic evidence sleeve.
“We found paperwork.”
“What kind?”
“Copies of deeds. Internal transaction sheets. Nothing I’m discussing in detail yet.”
“Anything about Emily?”
Grant looked at him.
“No.”
“Parcel Seventeen?”
“Yes.”
Blake’s body tightened.
“What?”
“Mr. Carter.”
“Right.”
She was not going to hand him an active investigation.
“What about Daniel Reed?”
Grant’s expression gave away nothing.
“We’re trying to locate him.”
“His SUV?”
“We know what he drives.”
Blake stepped closer.
“You have the gas-station footage.”
“Yes.”
“Does it match?”
Grant paused.
“Same general make and color.”
Naomi touched Blake’s arm before he could react.
“General,” she emphasized.
Grant nodded.
“Exactly.”
Blake looked toward the dusty windows.
“Why would Daniel tell us about this office?”
“We don’t know that he did.”
Again.
Every answer contained a door that would not open.
That evening Emily came out of surgery exhausted but stable.
The surgeon was cautiously positive.
Blake told her only the necessary parts.
The office existed.
Police found documents.
Daniel remained missing.
Emily listened without interrupting.
When Blake finished, she asked one question.
“Was Ruth’s name there?”
“I don’t know.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“You need to call her.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“She’s okay.”
“No one came by?”
“Not today.”
Emily nodded.
Then she looked at Blake.
“You keep saying Daniel is missing.”
“He is.”
“No. You mean nobody you’ve talked to knows where he is.”
Blake paused.
“That’s annoyingly precise.”
“You married me.”
“I’m reconsidering.”
She smiled weakly.
Then winced.
For a few seconds they were simply husband and wife again.
No land.
No lawyers.
No recordings.
Blake held a cup of water while she drank through a straw.
She hated needing help.
He could see it.
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said.
“I didn’t.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say your hand is shaking.”
He looked.
It was.
He had not noticed.
He lowered the cup.
“Sorry.”
“See?”
“What?”
“You apologize too.”
He laughed once.
Then the room became serious again.
Emily stared at the ceiling.
“I met Daniel at that office.”
Blake stopped.
“When?”
“Twice.”
“You told me you met him at Franklin’s.”
“I did.”
“You left out the office.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he made me promise.”
Blake stood and walked to the window.
Behind him, Emily said, “I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I was trying to protect him.”
“And I’m trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t know I’d end up here.”
“That’s exactly why you tell somebody where you’re going.”
Emily looked away.
He regretted raising his voice.
But not the point.
“Why did he take you there?”
“He wanted to show me records.”
“What records?”
“Transaction packets.”
“The ones police found?”
“I don’t know.”
“What was in them?”
“Copies. Seller identification. internal approval sheets. title notes.”
“Did you take photos?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My phone.”
Blake looked toward her belongings.
The hospital had returned her purse.
Her phone had been destroyed in the crash.
Of course.
“Cloud backup?”
Emily shook her head.
“Storage was full.”
Blake closed his eyes.
“Please never say that sentence again.”
Despite everything, she almost laughed.
“What did the records show?”
“That some seller files had problems.”
“What kind?”
“Expired IDs. signatures that didn’t match older documents. missing pages.”
“Did Daniel explain?”
“He said some were mistakes.”
“Some?”
“Yes.”
“And the others?”
Emily looked at Blake.
“He said he stopped asking.”
That sentence landed harder than a confession might have.
Not because it proved a crime.
Because it described how systems survived.
Not everybody had to be corrupt.
Some people only had to stop asking.
“Why did he start talking to you?”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“Ruth.”
“What about her?”
“Daniel grew up three houses away.”
Blake turned.
“He knows her?”
“She used to watch him after school.”
That changed the shape of Daniel.
Not hero.
Not villain.
A man inside a system who saw a name he recognized.
“What did he do when he saw Ruth’s file?”
“He checked it.”
“And found the ID issue.”
“Yes.”
“Then Parcel Seventeen?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He realized the same internal code appeared on both.”
C-17.
Blake looked toward the recorder.
“Did he tell you what it meant?”
“No.”
“Could he?”
Emily’s expression tightened.
“He said there was only one person who could.”
“Travis.”
“No.”
Blake waited.
Emily turned her face toward him.
“Travis’s father.”
That was the first time the name Charles Mercer entered the story.
And by morning, Blake would discover something stranger.
May you like
Charles Mercer had supposedly retired three years ago.
But C-17 approvals were still being issued under his credentials.
