Chapter 9 - The Dead Driver Who Wasn’t Dead
The official crash report listed the truck driver as Michael Trent, age forty-six.
Dead at the scene.
Andrew had never questioned it.
Why would he?
Grief was a room without windows. You accepted whatever facts people slid beneath the door.
Now Owen Price found the first inconsistency in nineteen minutes.
“No death certificate.”
Andrew looked up.
“What?”
“There is no Illinois death certificate for Michael Trent matching the report.”
Detective Ruiz leaned over the screen.
“Could be administrative.”
“It gets worse.”
Owen brought up employment records.
Michael Trent had never worked for the trucking company named in the report.
The company itself dissolved six weeks after Sarah’s death.
Registered owner?
A Nevada holding company.
That company?
Connected to Halcyon Capital.
Andrew’s uncle.
He stared at the screen.
Charlotte said softly, “Andrew.”
“Call Gregory.”
This time Gregory did not answer.
They sent agents to his Lake Forest residence.
Empty.
Closets open.
Passport gone.
Andrew felt fury rise.
“He ran.”
Ruiz shook his head.
“Maybe.”
At 6:12 p.m., Gregory’s car was found abandoned near O’Hare.
At 7:04, his phone was recovered from a trash can.
At 8:30, surveillance showed Gregory entering a hotel near Rosemont.
At 9:15, police located him.
Not fleeing.
Hiding.
From someone.
Gregory sat in an interrogation room looking twenty years older.
Andrew entered alone after arguing with Ruiz.
His uncle looked up.
“Sarah would hate what you’ve become.”
Andrew stopped.
“What I’ve become?”
“Angry.”
“My wife may have been murdered.”
Gregory looked away.
“Tell me about Michael Trent.”
Gregory’s face emptied.
“That isn’t his name.”
“Then what is it?”
“Samuel Dane.”
Andrew stared.
Evelyn’s son.
Everyone believed Samuel Dane had died of an overdose nine years earlier.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Gregory rubbed both hands over his face.
“Samuel had addiction problems. Evelyn used them. Hid him. Cleaned him up when useful.”
“You’re saying Samuel killed Sarah?”
Gregory closed his eyes.
“He drove the truck.”
“Was it deliberate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Gregory slammed both hands against the table.
Andrew had never heard him shout.
“He was supposed to scare her!”
Silence fell.
Andrew went cold.
“What?”
Gregory’s face collapsed.
“Sarah had evidence. Evelyn wanted it back.”
“So you helped arrange it.”
“I arranged a meeting.”
“You arranged a truck.”
“No. Samuel followed her.”
Andrew stood.
“You knew.”
“I knew Evelyn wanted her frightened.”
“And when Sarah died?”
“I covered the connection.”
Andrew stared at the man who had helped raise him.
“You looked me in the face at her funeral.”
Gregory started crying.
Andrew had never seen it.
Not when Andrew’s father died.
Not ever.
“I loved you.”
“Don’t.”
“I did.”
“You let me bury my wife believing she made a mistake in the rain.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
Andrew almost laughed.
“By protecting her killer?”
“By protecting you from Evelyn.”
Andrew leaned across the table.
“Why would Evelyn care about me?”
Gregory looked at him.
“Because Whitman Technologies was never supposed to be yours.”
Andrew froze.
Gregory continued.
“Your father planned to merge the company with Dane Capital thirty years ago. Evelyn expected control. Then your father changed his mind.”
“So?”
“She spent decades building influence around us. Charities. contractors. political connections.”
“That still doesn’t explain Sarah.”
“Sarah found records linking Bright Harbor to a data project.”
“What project?”
Gregory hesitated.
Andrew slammed his palm down.
“What project?”
“Predictive child placement.”
Andrew stared.
Gregory spoke quickly.
“Whitman Technologies developed analytics tools for government agencies. Nothing illegal. But Evelyn’s people obtained access. They used the data to identify vulnerable families.”
Andrew felt sick.
“They targeted children?”
“Families likely to lose custody. Low income. Single parents. people with limited legal resources.”
“So St. Matthew’s knew who was easiest to trap.”
Gregory nodded miserably.
“Sarah discovered it.”
Andrew stepped away.
The company he built.
His technology.
Used to identify prey.
“Who gave Evelyn access?”
Gregory whispered, “Someone inside your company.”
“Who?”
“I never knew.”
Andrew stared.
“Liar.”
“I swear.”
Then Gregory said something that stopped him.
“Sarah knew.”
Andrew turned.
“She told me she had found the access point. She called the person ‘the ghost in your house.’”
Andrew’s phone rang.
Owen.
He answered.
“Andrew, we have a problem.”
“What?”
“Someone accessed the secure evidence server twenty minutes ago.”
Andrew’s chest tightened.
“The Rachel files?”
“Yes.”
“Did they get them?”
“No. But they tried using an internal Whitman Technologies credential.”
“Whose?”
Silence.
“Yours.”
Andrew looked through the interrogation-room glass.
Someone had his credentials.
Someone inside his company.
Someone close enough to move like him.
May you like
And for the first time, Andrew understood Sarah’s phrase.
The ghost in your house.
