"Harold Bennett has disappeared. Our team has confirmed that someone inside the correctional system helped him escape."
Michael nodded.
"Samuel Grant."
Rebecca opened the folder.
"We also discovered that Grant has been receiving payments through a private company registered overseas."
Walter examined the documents.
Then he noticed something.
A signature.
It belonged to James Holloway.
Walter looked up.
"James is in prison."
Rebecca shook her head.
"Not anymore. He was transferred to a federal medical facility three weeks ago."
Walter's face hardened.
"Nobody told me."
"Because the transfer was authorized by a senior official."
Michael placed another document on the table.
"There's more."
He pointed to a list of names.
"These are the people who helped the organization hide its money. But one name is missing."
"Whose?" Rebecca asked.
Michael looked at his sister.
"Laura Mitchell."
Emily frowned.
"Who is Laura?"
"The woman who saved my life."
Michael took out his phone.
He showed them a photograph of a woman standing outside a courthouse.
Rebecca recognized her immediately.
"That's impossible."
Walter looked at her.
"What?"
Rebecca's voice became quiet.
"Laura Mitchell died six months ago."
Michael shook his head.
"No. She didn't."
He enlarged the photograph.
The woman was standing beside Samuel Grant.
And the date printed beneath the image was from three days earlier.
At midnight, Walter received a message.
It contained only six words.
YOUR FAMILY IS NOT SAFE ANYMORE.
He immediately called Emily.
No answer.
He called Michael.
No answer.
Then his phone rang.
It was Rebecca.
"Walter, where are you?"
"At home. What's happened?"
"Listen carefully. Our security team has lost contact with Emily."
Walter stood up.
"What?"
"Her house is empty."
"Where is Michael?"
"We're looking for him."
Walter grabbed his coat.
"I'm coming."
"No. Stay where you are."
"Rebecca, that's my daughter!"
"I know. And that's why you need to listen."
A sudden noise came from outside the house.
Walter turned toward the window.
A black car was parked across the street.
Its headlights were off.
Someone was sitting inside.
Walter slowly moved toward the front door.
Then his phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
This time, it included a photograph.
Emily was sitting in a chair inside a dark room.
Beside her stood a man wearing a black suit.
Samuel Grant.
Underneath the photograph was a message.
BRING THE ORIGINAL LEDGER TO THE OLD COURTHOUSE. COME ALONE.
Walter stared at the screen.
For fifteen years, he had fought to bring the truth into the light.
Now the people responsible had taken his daughter.
But they had made one mistake.
They had underestimated how far a father would go to protect his family.
Walter picked up the old briefcase.
Inside it was the original ledger.
He looked at the photograph of his wife and children.
Then he whispered:
"This ends tonight."
Outside, the black car started its engine.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone was watching.
Walter drove through the empty streets, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
The original ledger lay on the passenger seat.
He had read its contents hundreds of times, but tonight he finally understood why Samuel Grant wanted it so desperately.
The ledger contained the names of every official involved in the illegal witness protection operation.
Judges.
Police officers.
Federal investigators.
Even members of the government.
But there was one page Walter had never been able to identify.
A page containing a handwritten signature.
His own.
He glanced at it again.
The signature was identical to his handwriting.
Yet Walter had never signed that document.
Someone had forged his name fifteen years earlier.
And whoever had done it had used his signature to authorize Michael's disappearance.
His phone rang.
Rebecca.
"Walter, where are you?"
"Ten minutes from the courthouse."
"I told you not to go alone."
"You also told me Emily was missing. I'm not going to sit at home waiting for another phone call."
"Listen to me. We've identified the black vehicle outside your house."
"Who does it belong to?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"James Holloway."
Walter slammed his foot against the accelerator.
"James is supposed to be in federal custody!"
"That's what we thought."
"Then who's protecting him?"
Before Rebecca could answer, the call disconnected.
Walter looked at the road ahead.
The old courthouse appeared through the darkness.
Its windows were broken, and the main entrance was chained shut.
A single light was burning on the second floor.
He parked his car.
Then he picked up the briefcase and walked toward the building.
Someone was waiting for him.
The courthouse was silent.
Walter entered through a side door and followed a narrow staircase to the second floor.
At the end of the corridor, he found a courtroom.
Emily was sitting in the front row.
Her hands were tied.
"Emily!"
She immediately looked up.
"Dad! Don't come any closer!"
Walter stopped.
A man stepped out from behind the judge's bench.
Samuel Grant.
He wore a perfectly pressed black suit and carried a small silver pistol.
"Good evening, Walter."
"Let my daughter go."
Grant smiled.
"Of course. But first, the ledger."
Walter placed the briefcase on the floor.
"She's not part of this."
"Unfortunately, she has become the most important part of it."
"What do you want?"
Grant walked toward him.
"Fifteen years ago, your son discovered something he was never supposed to see. He found the financial records connecting our organization to several senior officials."
"And you tried to kill him."
Grant shook his head.
"No. We tried to recruit him."
Walter stared at him.
"You destroyed his life."
"We gave him an opportunity."
"You made him believe his father had abandoned him."
Grant's smile disappeared.
"That was necessary."
Emily began struggling against the ropes.
"He's lying, Dad!"
Grant turned toward her.
"Your brother understood the arrangement eventually. Perhaps you should ask him what he did to survive."
Walter looked at Grant.
"Where is Michael?"
A second voice answered from the balcony.
"Right here."
Walter turned.
Michael stood near the entrance.
But he wasn't alone.
James Holloway was standing behind him, holding a gun.
Michael raised both hands.
"Sorry, Dad. I think we're all going to have a very difficult evening."
Walter looked at his son.