Chapter 18 - The Ledger's Location
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"March 15th," I repeated, my mind racing through decades of memories. "My father bought my childhood home on March 15th. When he died, he left the house to me in the trust."
"The house where you live with Daniel?" Lena asked, swiping desperately at her tears. "The ledger is inside your own house?"
"It has to be," I said, pacing the cramped room. "Daniel has been living on top of the exact thing he’s been searching for. He tore up my office, he searched the basement, but he didn't know what to look for."
My father was a master of hidden compartments. When I was a child, he built a false back into the brick fireplace in the basement—a secret cubby where we used to hide Christmas presents. Daniel never knew about it because he hated the basement. He only went down there to steal my files.
"I have to go back," I said, grabbing my coat. Every movement sent fresh agony through my burns, but the pain was irrelevant now. Lena's daughter's life was on the line.
"I'm coming with you," Lena said fiercely.
"No. If he sees you, he'll panic and hurt her. You stay here and call the FBI director. Not the local cops—the Director. Tell them Daniel Sterling is at the property holding a child hostage. Give me twenty minutes to get inside before they breach."
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I left Lena in the motel and stole a neighbor's idling truck from the parking lot. The drive to my sprawling suburban home felt like a march to the executioner's block. I was driving straight back into the lion's den, back to the kitchen where Vivian had tried to boil me alive.
But I wasn't a victim anymore. I was the executioner.
