Chapter 17 - Dinner With the Devil
Victor Lang chose the most expensive restaurant on Sea Island.
Of course he did.
Men like Victor confused luxury with power.
They believed marble floors made threats sound more civilized.
Agent Ross hated the idea of me attending.
Thomas hated it more.
Martha wanted to come disguised as a waitress.
I refused all three objections.
“If Victor invited me, he wants something.”
“He may want to intimidate you,” Thomas said.
“He already tried.”
Agent Ross leaned forward.
“We cannot use you as bait without controls.”
“Then control it.”
That ended the argument.
I wore a wire.
Federal agents occupied tables nearby.
Thomas waited in a vehicle outside.
Victor arrived exactly on time.
He was seventy, perhaps seventy-two, but expensive medicine and disciplined vanity had preserved him well.
Silver-blond hair.
Charcoal suit.
Calm blue eyes.
The same man from Arthur’s photograph.
He sat across from me.
“Mrs. Cross.”
“Mr. Lang.”
“I’m pleased you came.”
“I was curious.”
“Curiosity can be dangerous.”
“So can ledgers.”
For the first time, his expression changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
Good.
A server poured water.
Victor waited until we were alone.
“You have survived extraordinary circumstances.”
“I have.”
“Most people would appreciate peace after something like that.”
“I do.”
“Then why invite chaos?”
“You invited me.”
He smiled.
“You misunderstand.”
“No. I understand perfectly. Ruth Bennett found evidence. You frightened her. She contacted me. Now you want me frightened too.”
Victor folded his hands.
“Ruth is a confused woman.”
“Funny. Everyone you steal from becomes confused.”
His smile disappeared.
“I have never stolen anything from anyone.”
“Then this dinner should be short.”
He leaned back.
“Your foundation receives significant funding from wealthy donors. Reputation matters.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“What happens when donors begin questioning your judgment?”
“They ask questions.”
“What happens when courts question your competency?”
“They look at evidence.”
“What happens when the public learns that your custody of Aiden may have been granted while you suffered untreated cognitive symptoms?”
I almost laughed.
“You mean symptoms invented by Dr. Pierce?”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
“You are making serious accusations.”
“So sue me.”
A small silence passed between us.
Then Victor lowered his voice.
“Your son understood something you never did.”
I stopped breathing.
There it was.
A direct connection.
“What did Michael understand?”
“That wealth sitting still is wasted.”
I forced myself to remain calm.
“You knew him.”
“I knew many ambitious people.”
“You knew he was drowning in debt.”
“People in financial distress often seek sophisticated advice.”
“Did you advise him to kill me?”
Victor smiled.
“No.”
Too quick.
Too clean.
I leaned closer.
“Did you advise him that Aiden’s survival complicated inheritance?”
His eyes flickered.
That was enough for me.
But not enough for a courtroom.
Victor lifted his wineglass.
“Michael made his own choices.”
“I agree.”
“He was weak.”
“I agree again.”
“And weakness makes people unpredictable.”
“Like murdering their family?”
“Like blaming others when consequences arrive.”
Interesting.
He did not deny knowing the details.
“You kept a file on me.”
Victor’s fingers stopped against the glass.
“A lot of people keep files.”
“You paid a doctor to describe me as incompetent before I ever met him.”
“That is your allegation.”
“You tracked Aiden.”
“That is absurd.”
“Leon Maddox photographed him.”
“Employees sometimes exceed instructions.”
I stared at him.
“Was that supposed to comfort me?”
Victor sighed.
“You are emotional.”
I smiled.
“And you are recorded.”
His face froze.
I had not planned to say it.
Agent Ross would be furious.
But I wanted him to know.
For one second, the mask disappeared.
Not fear.
Rage.
Cold and immediate.
Then the mask returned.
“You should be careful, Mrs. Cross.”
“Why?”
“Because institutions protect stability.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“And people who create instability eventually find themselves isolated.”
I stood.
“You made the same mistake Michael did.”
Victor looked up.
“What mistake?”
“You think family is my weakness.”
I placed my napkin beside the untouched plate.
“It’s the reason I never quit.”
I walked away.
Federal agents followed separately.
Outside, Thomas opened the car door.
“You told him about the wire?”
“I did.”
He stared at me.
“Claire.”
“I know.”
“That was reckless.”
“I know.”
Agent Ross arrived thirty seconds later.
She was furious.
“You never reveal surveillance during an active investigation.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because he was comfortable.”
She crossed her arms.
“And?”
“I wanted him uncomfortable.”
Thomas rubbed his forehead.
Agent Ross looked ready to lecture me for an hour.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
We waited.
She ended the call.
“Dr. Pierce is gone.”
“Gone where?”
“His home is empty. Office closed. Vehicle abandoned at Jacksonville airport.”
Thomas swore.
Agent Ross looked at me.
“Someone warned him.”
Victor.
We all knew it.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
You should have accepted dinner.
Attached was a photograph.
Aiden.
Standing on our dock.
Taken less than an hour earlier.
I stopped breathing.
“Call Martha.”
Thomas was already dialing.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Agent Ross shouted into her radio.
We were in the car before she finished.
The twenty-minute drive home took twelve.
Federal vehicles surrounded the property when we arrived.
The front door was open.
My legs nearly failed me.
“Aiden!”
I ran inside.
“Aiden!”
A sound came from the kitchen.
Then Martha appeared.
She was holding a cast-iron skillet in one hand.
Aiden stood behind her.
Alive.
Safe.
I crossed the room and pulled him into my arms.
Someone had cut the power ten minutes earlier.
A man entered through the mudroom.
Martha hit him with the skillet.
Hard.
He was currently unconscious on the pantry floor.
Agent Ross looked at Martha.
“You assaulted him?”
Martha raised an eyebrow.
“He broke into my house.”
Technically mine.
But I did not correct her.
Federal agents dragged the intruder outside.
In his pocket was a syringe.
And a photograph of Aiden.
Victor Lang had finally crossed the line from intimidation into something the law could not explain away.
I held my grandson against me.
Outside, Agent Ross received confirmation of the intruder’s identity.
Another Lang employee.
This time, Victor had not merely watched us.
May you like
He had sent someone through my door.
And Martha had answered.
