Chapter 20 - The River Road
Samuel Kerr stopped answering his phone at six twelve that evening.
By six twenty, deputies were heading toward his farm.
By six thirty-five, I was standing in Grandma’s kitchen refusing Detective Miller’s order to stay calm.
“They were going to declare him incompetent too.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Stop saying that!”
Miller’s jaw tightened.
“Chloe, uncertainty is not incompetence. It is how investigations work.”
I knew he was right.
I hated him for being right.
At six forty-eight, his radio crackled.
Deputies had reached Kerr’s property.
Front door open.
No Samuel.
No signs of forced entry.
His truck gone.
My stomach dropped.
Then they found blood.
A small amount.
On the kitchen floor.
Tyler whispered, “Oh God.”
Miller left immediately.
I wanted to follow.
He refused.
At eight sixteen, Samuel’s truck was found beside River Road.
Driver door open.
Keys missing.
More blood.
At nine, Northstar denied involvement.
At nine thirty, Mason Creed announced publicly that Richard Henderson was being “unfairly persecuted because of a family inheritance dispute.”
At ten fifteen, my phone buzzed.
A text.
Unknown number.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT KERR ALIVE.
Below it was a location pin.
Old freight terminal.
I showed Miller immediately.
He looked almost relieved.
“You did exactly the right thing.”
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“The message says alone.”
“That means you are absolutely not going alone.”
Police created a plan.
They would use me.
I hated it.
They fitted me with a microphone beneath my sweater.
A tracker in my shoe.
Officers hidden around the terminal.
Miller looked me directly in the eyes.
“You do not improvise.”
“I understand.”
“If you see Richard, you do not approach.”
“I understand.”
“If he tells you Kerr is somewhere else, you do not follow.”
“I understand.”
At eleven forty, I drove to the abandoned freight yard.
Rain hit the windshield.
The warehouses stood black against the river.
I got out.
“Richard!”
My voice echoed.
Nothing.
Then a light switched on inside Warehouse Three.
I walked toward it.
Every instinct screamed.
Inside, Samuel Kerr sat tied to a chair.
Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow.
But he was alive.
“Samuel!”
“Don’t!”
A man stepped from behind a steel column.
Not Richard.
A Northstar executive I recognized from photographs.
Gavin Shore.
Chief development officer.
He held a pistol.
My body froze.
“Phone.”
I placed it on the floor.
“Kicker.”
I kicked it toward him.
“You came wired?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Richard said you were smarter than you looked.”
“Where is he?”
“Not here.”
“Let Samuel go.”
“You sign first.”
He pointed toward a folding table.
Documents waited.
Transfer agreements.
“You kidnapped a man for land?”
“Land is an ugly word.”
He smiled.
“Think infrastructure.”
Samuel spat blood.
“Think prison.”
Shore struck him.
I flinched.
“Stop!”
“Sign.”
I moved toward the table.
The microphone beneath my sweater transmitted every word.
“Where’s Richard?”
Shore laughed.
“On his way out of the country.”
“Then why are you helping him?”
“Because your father promised us this corridor five years ago.”
Five years.
Before Grandma died.
Before any of this.
I picked up the pen.
“Let Samuel go first.”
“Sign.”
Outside, somewhere, police waited.
I needed Shore to say enough.
“You tried to have me declared incompetent.”
His smile faded.
“You really have been digging.”
“You paid Reese.”
“No. Consultants paid consultants.”
“And the accident plan?”
That touched something.
His face changed.
“I told Richard not to be theatrical.”
My heart slammed.
There.
The admission.
I heard Miller’s voice faintly through the concealed earpiece.
We have enough.
Then a gunshot exploded.
I screamed.
Shore spun.
Samuel had kicked the table into him.
The pistol fired into the ceiling.
Police poured through both doors.
“DROP THE WEAPON!”
Shore froze.
Then surrendered.
I ran to Samuel.
He grinned through the blood.
“Your grandma would be furious you came here.”
“She’d be furious you got kidnapped.”
“Fair.”
Miller entered.
“Richard wasn’t here.”
“I know.”
Then an officer shouted from outside.
“Detective!”
We ran out.
A white pickup was racing toward the river exit.
Miller stared.
“Richard.”
Sirens ignited.
May you like
And for the first time, the hunt was no longer about finding evidence.
It was about catching him.
