Chapter 5 – Part 2: The Wrong Victim
Chapter 5 – Part 2: The Wrong Victim
Detective Harris didn't speak again until everyone had reached the elevator.
The ride to the underground parking garage felt endless.
Emily stood beside Evelyn, one arm wrapped protectively around her healing ribs.
"Do they know it's Vanessa?" Emily asked quietly.
Harris shook her head.
"Not yet."
"Then why call us?"
"Because whoever the victim is, they were carrying Vanessa Morgan's driver's license."
Emily's heart sank.
"Someone wanted the body identified as hers."
"Exactly."
The crime scene occupied a quiet industrial street on the edge of the city.
Police lights reflected against the wet pavement.
Forensic technicians worked methodically while detectives spoke in low voices.
Harris stopped Emily before they crossed the tape.
"I don't want you getting too close."
Emily nodded.
She wasn't here to identify anyone.
She was here because someone had deliberately connected the scene to the case against Daniel.
Detective Brooks approached carrying a transparent evidence bag.
Inside was a leather wallet.
"The license was here," she said.
"But that's not all."
She produced a folded receipt.
"It came from Harrison National Bank."
Evelyn looked up immediately.
"The bank from your father's safe-deposit box."
Brooks nodded.
"The receipt is dated yesterday."
Emily frowned.
"My father died years ago."
"He did," Brooks agreed.
"But someone accessed something connected to him yesterday."
Less than an hour later, a forensic examiner emerged from the temporary tent.
He removed his gloves before speaking.
"The victim is not Vanessa Morgan."
Relief washed over Emily so suddenly that she had to steady herself.
"Are you certain?"
"We compared fingerprints."
"No match."
"So where is Vanessa?"
"No one knows."
Detective Harris exchanged a glance with Brooks.
"Whoever staged this wanted us chasing the wrong person."
The investigation shifted immediately.
Instead of treating the driver's license as identification, they treated it as evidence.
Brooks spread several photographs across the hood of an unmarked police car.
"The wallet."
"The receipt."
"The license."
"Nothing else."
"No credit cards?"
"No phone."
"No cash."
Emily studied the photographs.
"It looks... arranged."
"That's our impression too," Harris replied.
"Almost like someone wanted us to notice only one thing."
"Vanessa."
Later that afternoon, the team arrived at Harrison National Bank with a judicial order requesting access to historical records connected to William Carter's estate.
The branch manager escorted them into a secure conference room.
"We've already searched our digital archives," he explained.
"There is a safe-deposit box registered to Mr. Carter's trust."
Emily looked toward Evelyn.
"You knew about it."
"I knew it existed."
"I never knew what was inside."
The manager continued.
"There's one complication."
"What complication?" Harris asked.
"The box hasn't been opened."
Emily frowned.
"Then how was there a receipt from yesterday?"
The manager slid another document across the table.
"There wasn't."
Everyone leaned closer.
"The receipt belongs to a different safe-deposit box."
"Whose?"
The manager hesitated.
"I'm only permitted to disclose that under court authority."
Harris smiled slightly.
"We'll obtain one."
Across town, Daniel sat in the interview room waiting for his attorney.
Instead, Richard Owens entered holding a thin folder.
"You need to prepare yourself."
Daniel looked up.
"For what?"
"The investigation has expanded."
"I told you I don't know anything about Victor."
Richard didn't respond immediately.
He simply placed a newspaper on the table.
The headline read:
ASSAULT CASE LEADS TO WIDER FINANCIAL PROBE
Daniel stared at it.
"They're connecting everything."
"They're asking questions."
"And?"
Richard leaned forward.
"If there's anything you've hidden from me, now is the time."
Daniel looked down at his folded hands.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, quietly:
"I never wanted any of this."
Richard answered just as quietly.
"That isn't the question anymore."
As evening settled over the city, Emily returned to the apartment under police protection.
The study had been cleaned after the break-in, but the hidden compartment remained open.
She ran her fingers along the smooth wood.
Her father had left clues.
Not answers.
Clues.
And someone else was following the same trail.
Her phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
She hesitated before answering.
A woman's voice whispered from the other end.
"Emily?"
Emily stood perfectly still.
"Vanessa?"
"I'm alive."
Relief flooded through her.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Are you safe?"
"For tonight."
There was a pause.
Then Vanessa spoke again.
"They're looking for something your father left behind."
Emily's grip tightened on the phone.
"What is it?"
"I don't know exactly."
"But Daniel believed it was worth everything."
Before Emily could ask another question, Vanessa added one final sentence.
"You have one person you can trust."
"Who?"
The line crackled.
Then went silent.
Emily lowered the phone slowly.
She had hoped the next clue would answer old questions.
Instead, it raised a new one.
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If one person could still be trusted...
Who was it?
