Chapter 4
I screamed for the driver to stop.
Emmett caught my wrist before I could open the door.
“Think.”
“My son is in danger!”
“Which is exactly why you do not run blindly toward him.”
I shoved the phone at him.
“They found Cody.”
Emmett read the message.
Then he asked one question.
“Would Cody call Ruth ‘Grandma’ in a text to you?”
I froze.
No.
He always called her Nana.
Always.
My fear changed shape.
“It isn't him.”
“Probably not.”
My phone died.
Emmett's driver changed direction.
“Where are we going?”
“To one of my offices.”
“I need to call Ruth.”
“You will.”
Ten minutes later we entered an ordinary brick building beside an accounting firm.
Nothing about it looked dangerous.
Emmett led me upstairs.
A woman named Sofia handed me a phone.
I dialed Ruth.
She answered on the first ring.
“Jillian?”
“Where's Cody?”
“Asleep upstairs.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Wake him.”
“What's wrong?”
“Please.”
Thirty seconds later Cody's sleepy voice came through.
“Mom?”
I covered my mouth.
“You're okay.”
“Yeah.”
“Did anyone come there?”
“No.”
“Did you text me?”
“No.”
Emmett watched silently.
I told Cody to stay inside.
Then I called Patrick.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Finally a text arrived.
CAN'T TALK. WITH DAD.
I showed Emmett.
“He went back.”
“Of course he did.”
Anger flashed through me.
“You don't know Patrick.”
“I know sons raised by men like Malcolm.”
I stepped toward him.
“My husband isn't weak.”
“I didn't say he was.”
“You implied it.”
Emmett remained calm.
“Loyalty and fear can occupy the same heart.”
I hated how true that sounded.
Sofia brought me antiseptic and bandages for my foot.
While she cleaned the cuts, Emmett sat across from me.
“You need to know why Malcolm fears that memory card.”
“You know what's on it?”
“No. But I know what Shawn believed was on it.”
I waited.
“Records.”
“What kind?”
“Bannon Logistics spent decades handling legitimate freight.”
He paused.
“And occasionally freight Malcolm preferred not to describe.”
I stared.
“Illegal?”
“Sometimes.”
I felt sick.
“My husband works construction.”
“Yes.”
“Patrick left the company.”
“Yes.”
“Then why Cody?”
“Because Malcolm's problem is not simply succession.”
Emmett folded his hands.
“It is ownership.”
He explained.
Thirty years earlier, Malcolm and Emmett's father, Vittorio Carbone, had built a regional shipping network together.
Eventually they split.
The separation agreement contained unusual clauses designed to prevent either family from selling certain shared land and warehouse rights to outsiders.
Those clauses expired if one bloodline stopped operating its company.
Shawn had been Malcolm's designated successor.
With Shawn dead and Patrick refusing the business, Malcolm needed another Bannon descendant willing to sign.
Cody.
“He can't make a sixteen-year-old sign corporate documents.”
“Not yet.”
My stomach tightened.
“But he can shape him before eighteen.”
I thought about the internships.
The business school brochures.
The talk about legacy.
“He wants control.”
“He wants continuity,” Emmett said. “Malcolm would call those the same thing.”
I looked at him.
“And you?”
“I call it theft when a child's future is taken before he understands the price.”
For the first time, I wondered why Emmett was helping me.
“What do you get?”
He almost smiled.
“Good question.”
“What?”
“If Malcolm loses control of those warehouse rights, my company benefits.”
There it was.
At least he admitted it.
“So I'm useful.”
“Yes.”
The bluntness shocked me.
Then he added, “That does not mean I intend to sacrifice your boy.”
I studied him.
“Why?”
Emmett looked toward the window.
“Because thirty-one years ago someone should have said ‘drive’ to another frightened woman.”
I understood.
“Patrick's mother?”
His expression changed.
“You know about Eleanor's key.”
I leaned forward.
“What happened to her?”
Emmett was silent.
Then the office door opened.
Sofia entered.
“Mr. Carbone. Patrick Bannon is downstairs.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
Patrick came through the door alone.
His face was bruised near the jaw.
I ran to him.
“What happened?”
“Dean.”
Emmett remained seated.
Patrick glared at him.
“What is she doing here?”
“She got into my car.”
“I didn't ask you.”
I stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Patrick turned to me.
“Dad knows Cody has something.”
“The memory card?”
His face drained.
“You knew?”
“Cody told me.”
“Jesus.”
Patrick sat.
Then he looked at Emmett.
“What did Shawn tell you?”
Emmett didn't answer immediately.
Patrick slammed his palm onto the desk.
“My brother is dead!”
The room went silent.
Patrick's voice broke.
“And I am starting to think my father knows why.”
I stared at him.
“What happened tonight?”
Patrick swallowed.
“Dad wanted me to sign guardianship papers.”
My blood chilled.
“What?”
“Temporary family authority. He said it was for Cody's protection.”
Emmett gave a humorless laugh.
Patrick continued.
“When I refused, Dean blocked the door. I told them I'd call the police.”
He touched his bruised jaw.
“Dean decided to explain why that was a bad idea.”
My anger turned white-hot.
“Your own cousin hit you?”
Patrick nodded.
“Then Dad told me something.”
He looked at me.
“Shawn wasn't killed in a random accident.”
I couldn't speak.
Patrick's eyes filled with tears.
“He was meeting someone that night.”
“Who?”
Patrick turned toward Emmett.
“You.”
Emmett did not deny it.
I looked from one man to the other.
“You were meeting Shawn?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Emmett stood.
“Because Shawn had decided to destroy Malcolm's leverage before Malcolm could use Cody.”
My breath caught.
Patrick whispered, “The memory card.”
Emmett nodded.
“Part of it.”
“What else?”
Emmett's gaze dropped to my bandaged foot.
“The brass key.”
I stared at him.
“You know what it opens.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
He met my eyes.
“A safe-deposit box Eleanor Bannon opened three months before she died.”
Patrick went completely still.
“My mother?”
Emmett nodded.
“And if Shawn found the key, then he found the box.”
My heart pounded.
“What is inside?”
May you like
Emmett's next words changed everything.
“Evidence Eleanor believed could send Malcolm Bannon to prison.”
