Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Dark
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour by the time we reached the industrial district. The streets were dark, slick with oil and water, reflecting the sparse yellow streetlights.
Maya stayed in her old, beat-up sedan parked a block away, her engine idling, ready to act as my getaway driver if things went sideways. I slipped into the shadows, navigating the narrow alleyways behind the old packing plant.
The entrance to the underground game was a heavy steel door marked only with a faded spray-painted red circle. A beefy man in a leather jacket stood under a dripping awning, checking names on a phone.
I didn't have a name on the list, but I knew the layout of this building. My father’s company used to lease the upper floors for storage.
I climbed a rusted fire escape on the side of the building, my boots slipping slightly on the wet metal. Reaching the second floor, I found a loose window pane, slid it open, and slipped into the darkness of the abandoned warehouse floor.
The air inside was stagnant and cold, smelling of old wood and dust. Below me, I could hear the muffled thud of bass and the low murmur of voices. I navigated the familiar rafters, looking down through a ventilation grate into the brightly lit basement below.
There were three poker tables set up under harsh halogen lights. Smoke filled the room, drifting upward in lazy, grey coils.
And there, at the center table, sat Carter.
He looked completely different from the smug stepbrother who had kicked me out of my house earlier that day. His expensive suit jacket was draped over the back of his chair, his tie was loosened, and his face was slick with sweat. In front of him was a dwindling pile of high-value chips.
"Raise five thousand," Carter said, his voice tense as he pushed a stack of black chips forward.
The man across from him, a scarred older man with a gold ring on every finger, chuckled and folded. "Too rich for my blood, Carter. You're either bluffing or you've got the devil's luck tonight."
Carter grinned, a greasy, arrogant smile, and pulled the pot toward him. He was riding high, fueled by adrenaline and expensive whiskey.
I watched him play for another hour, waiting for his luck to turn. And turn it did. Within three hands, a younger player in a track jacket took him for nearly fifty thousand dollars. Carter's face turned a dangerous shade of purple. He slammed his hands on the table, stood up, and muttered something about needing some air.
I moved quickly, heading back down the fire escape and hiding in the shadows of the alleyway just outside the back exit.
A moment later, the steel door creaked open, and Carter stepped out into the rain. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, his hands shaking so badly he could barely strike the lighter.
"Need a light, Carter?" I whispered from the darkness.
He gasped, spinning around, his eyes scanning the pitch-black alley. "Who's there? Show yourself!"
I stepped out of the shadows, the rain dripping from the brim of my hood. I pulled the hood back, letting the dim light of the alley illuminate my face.
Carter's breath hitched. He took a step back, his heel hitting the brick wall. "Finnley? You... you crazy bastard. What are you doing here? I told you, if you came near me or Reagan again—"
Before he could finish, I lunged.
I caught him by the collar of his expensive silk shirt, slamming him hard against the brick wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and his cigarette fell into a puddle, hissing as it died. I pinned him with my forearm against his throat, pressing just hard enough to make his eyes bulge with fear.
"Listen to me very carefully, you pathetic piece of trash," I hissed, my face inches from his. "I know everything. I know about Julian Vance. I know about the money laundering. And I know my father is alive at St. Jude's."
Carter's face went from angry to pale in a split second. "You... you don't know what you're talking about. You're crazy. Prison broke your mind."
I tightened my grip, cutting off his airway. He clawed at my arm, his legs kicking weakly.
"I found the ledger, Carter," I whispered, my voice cold and steady. "I have the offshore account numbers. I have the shipping manifests. If I drop that ledger off at the federal prosecutor’s office, you and Reagan will be sharing a cell in a federal penitentiary before the week is out. And believe me, federal prison makes Oakwood look like a luxury resort."
I eased the pressure on his throat just enough for him to gasp for air.
"Please... Finnley, please," he wheezed, his arrogance completely gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated terror. "It wasn't my idea. It was Reagan. She... she met Vance. They planned the whole thing. I just... I just helped with the books. I had debts, Finnley! They were going to break my legs!"
"Where is my dad?" I demanded, shaking him. "How is he?"
"He's... he's at St. Jude's," Carter stuttered, tears mixing with the rain on his face. "He's alive, I swear! But he's... they keep him heavily sedated. Vance pays the director of the clinic, Dr. Sterling, to keep him under Arthur Pendelton’s name. If he ever wakes up or tries to talk, they just increase the dosage."
"How do we get in?" I growled. "What's the security like?"
"It's a fortress," Carter cried. "Keycard access only. Armed guards at the perimeter. The only people allowed in are authorized family members or Vance's personal security."
"How do they authorize family members?"
"There's... there's an authorization card," Carter stammered. "A digital pass on Reagan’s computer at the house. And she has a physical keycard in her safe in the master bedroom. It bypasses the front gate."
I stared at him, calculating the risks.
"If you tell Reagan I was here," I whispered, pressing my forearm back into his neck, "I won't just go to the feds. I will personally come back for you, Carter. And there won't be a wall to save you next time. Do you understand me?"
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"I won't say a word! I swear! Just let me go!"
I threw him to the wet asphalt. He collapsed in a heap, coughing and shivering, clutching his throat. I turned and vanished back into the rainy night, leaving him sobbing in the dark.
