Chapter 15 - Simone’s Last Minute
The recording lasted forty-six seconds.
Victor did not want Ethan to hear it.
This time Ethan agreed.
“I don’t need everything,” he said.
Victor respected the choice.
He listened alone with Renee.
Rain thundered through Simone’s phone microphone.
Her breathing was fast.
Then her voice.
“Victor, Theodore is behind us.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“He knows Daniel gave me the files. I’m taking Ethan home, then I’m calling federal counsel.”
A horn sounded in the distance.
Simone spoke to the driver.
“Malcolm, slow down.”
Then back to the recording.
“If something happens, check the Route 17 invoices. Adrian signed transfers, but I don’t think he understands the structure.”
Another sound.
Tires on wet pavement.
Simone gasped.
“Why is he passing us?”
Theodore’s sedan.
Victor leaned toward the speaker.
Simone shouted, “Malcolm!”
The recording filled with braking.
A horn.
Metal.
Then nothing.
The file ended.
Renee looked at Victor.
“The recording doesn’t establish Theodore caused the crash.”
“He was there.”
“Yes.”
“He was driving aggressively around them.”
“Possibly.”
Victor hated legal precision.
Renee continued.
“We need reconstruction.”
Federal investigators reopened the crash inquiry.
The original report blamed excessive speed for conditions and driver reaction.
No evidence of vehicle contact had been found.
Malcolm Lewis had suffered a broken leg and concussion.
He had later moved to Arizona.
Investigators located him.
He agreed to return.
Victor met him at a federal office.
Malcolm looked older.
He walked with a slight limp.
Victor had not seen him since the civil settlement two years earlier.
Malcolm’s eyes filled when Victor entered.
“Mr. Hale.”
Victor sat.
“Tell me the truth.”
Malcolm looked toward his attorney.
Then back.
“I took money from Theodore.”
Victor’s hands curled.
“To spy on Simone.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
“Why?”
Malcolm swallowed.
“My daughter needed tuition.”
Victor laughed bitterly.
Money again.
Everyone had a reason.
Everyone had a price.
Malcolm continued.
“I told him where Mrs. Hale went. Who she met.”
“Daniel Carter.”
“Yes.”
“Did Theodore tell you to crash?”
“No.”
Victor studied him.
“No?”
“No. I swear.”
“What happened?”
Malcolm rubbed his forehead.
“Mr. Blackwell followed us. Mrs. Hale saw him.”
“Then?”
“He tried to pass on a curve.”
Victor remembered the recording.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He pulled alongside.”
“Did he hit you?”
“No.”
“Then what caused the crash?”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“A delivery truck came around the bend.”
Victor waited.
“I swerved.”
“Too hard.”
“Yes.”
“You lost control.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Victor’s anger had nowhere clean to land.
Malcolm said, “Theodore didn’t ram us.”
“But he created the situation.”
“He shouldn’t have been there.”
“Neither should you have been feeding him information.”
Malcolm nodded.
“I know.”
Victor stood.
Malcolm’s voice broke.
“I’m sorry about Mrs. Hale.”
Victor stopped.
“I loved that family.”
Victor turned.
“Don’t.”
Malcolm flinched.
“Don’t use love as proof you didn’t betray us.”
Malcolm lowered his eyes.
Victor left.
Outside, Renee caught up.
“Theodore may face charges connected to the dangerous pursuit depending on reconstruction and intent, but homicide may be difficult.”
Victor stared toward the city.
“I want the truth, not the biggest charge.”
Renee studied him.
Six months earlier, Victor would not have said that.
Back at the estate, Ethan and Maya played chess.
Victor entered.
Ethan looked up.
“What did the driver say?”
Victor had promised not to hide the broad facts.
“Theodore didn’t hit the SUV.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
“But he followed you. He tried to pass on the curve. Malcolm swerved to avoid another truck.”
Ethan looked at the board.
“So the crash was an accident?”
Victor sat beside him.
“The crash itself may have been. But several dishonest choices created the circumstances around it.”
Ethan moved a pawn.
“That’s messier.”
“Yes.”
“I thought finding out would make it simpler.”
“So did I.”
Maya said quietly, “Truth isn’t always simpler.”
Ethan nodded.
“Just more real.”
Victor looked at him.
“Yes.”
Ethan glanced at the family photograph.
“Does that mean Theodore didn’t kill Mom?”
Victor chose each word carefully.
“It means I won’t tell you something evidence can’t prove.”
Ethan absorbed that.
“Good.”
Victor felt proud.
Not because Ethan was brave.
Not because Ethan was inspirational.
Because Ethan was thoughtful.
A twelve-year-old boy surrounded by adults who had spent years converting fear into lies was demanding accuracy.
Victor’s phone rang.
Adrian.
He sounded shaken.
“I remembered where Dad kept his private ledgers.”
Victor stood.
“Where?”
“Not at the company.”
“Then where?”
“The old Hale house.”
Victor frowned.
Their childhood home had been vacant for fifteen years.
Adrian continued.
“There was a compartment under the basement stairs.”
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why now?”
“Because Simone’s note mentioned original ledgers. Dad once told me if the company ever became more important than the family, I should look under the house.”
Victor stared at Ethan.
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The past was opening another door.
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