Chapter 44
[Chapter 44: The Accountant’s Den]
The drive to Clear Lake, Iowa, was long and desolate. The spring rain beat heavily against Ethan’s windshield as he pulled his rental car up to a gated, modern lakefront estate.
Ethan didn't knock. He used a heavy iron tire iron from his trunk to smash the digital lock box on the side gate, marching straight through the glass patio doors of the main house.
Edward Cross was sitting at a glass desk, a glass of scotch in his hand, calmly watching the rain over the lake. He was an older man, sharply dressed, with calculating gray eyes. He didn't look surprised to see Ethan.
“You have your father’s temper, Ethan,” Edward said smoothly, setting his glass down. “And your mother’s lack of boundaries. Smashing my door? Truly unrefined.”
“You’re paying Patricia’s legal fees,” Ethan said, dropping the tire iron onto the expensive hardwood floor with a loud, ringing thud. “You’re helping a woman who tried to murder a child get back on the street.”
Edward smiled, leaning back in his leather chair. “I am protecting an investment. Your father owed my associates twelve million dollars. When he died in that crash, that debt didn't vanish. The corporate shares your mother holds are the only collateral left. If she stays in jail, the state seizes the assets, and my people lose everything. I need her out so she can sign the transfers.”
“The shares are fraudulent, Edward. The FBI has copies of the ledger,” Ethan countered, stepping closer to the desk.
“The FBI has photocopies, Ethan,” Edward corrected him, his voice dropping into a chillingly confident tone. “The original ledger—the one with the actual routing numbers and the biological registry that legally validates the asset transfers—wasn't on that plane. And it wasn't in Zurich.”
Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
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Edward pulled out a tablet, turning it toward Ethan. The screen showed a real-time GPS tracker, completely separate from the one that had been in Noah’s backpack. This one was blinking inside a small town in southern Illinois.
“Lauren didn't leave the original ledger in the hangar, Ethan,” Edward whispered. “She mailed it to a secure P.O. Box before she went to the airfield. And someone just picked it up twenty minutes ago.”
