Chapter 10 - The Unseen Ledger
The flashlights of a dozen responding Boston police officers cut through the smoke and shadows of the Beacon Hill estate, casting long, frantic streaks across the marble foyer.
Officer Mercer, nursing a bruised neck, stood near the grand entrance talking quietly with the lead precinct captain while paramedics worked over Victor Sloane on the library floor.
Callum stood near the tall French doors overlooking the snowy courtyard, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. Inside his pocket, his fingers wrapped tightly around the cold metal of the titanium lockbox and the old brass key.
Maeve sat on a velvet settee near the fireplace, a medic checking her splint while wrapping a sterile gauze bandage over the scrapes on her hands.
“You’re lucky you didn't fracture that wrist completely,” the paramedic muttered, packing his kit. “Keep it elevated and get to a real doctor tomorrow.”
Maeve nodded numbly, her eyes fixed on Callum’s broad back silhouetted against the winter dawn.
The precinct captain walked over to Callum, wiping snow from his cap. “Mr. Vale. Your cousin is dead, your head of security is confessing to half a dozen federal felonies before he even wakes up from the anesthesia, and your house is currently a crime scene.”
“Do what you need to do, Captain,” Callum said without turning around. “My legal team will be at headquarters within the hour.”
“And the girl?” the captain asked, glancing over at Maeve. “She was holding a police firearm when my units breached the courtyard.”
Callum turned slowly, his dark eyes fixing the captain with a look that made the seasoned veteran take an involuntary half-step back.
“The girl saved my life,” Callum said, his voice dropping into a tone that brooked no argument. “She was an innocent victim caught in a domestic dispute. If I hear her name mentioned in any official report outside of a witness statement, your career in this city will end before breakfast.”
The captain swallowed hard, nodded stiffly, and walked away toward the hallway.
Callum walked across the room and stopped in front of the settee. He looked down at Maeve, his expression unreadable, yet softer than she had ever seen it.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“Yes, sir—Callum,” she corrected herself quickly, standing up on shaky legs.
“Good,” he said, extending his arm so she could steady herself against his sleeve. “Because we’re leaving.”
“Where are we going?” Maeve asked, looking around the ruined, blood-stained mansion that had been her workplace for three years.
May you like
Callum reached into his coat pocket, pulling out Eamon’s leather-bound journal and sliding it into her uninjured hand.
“To finish what my brother started,” Callum said quietly, turning toward the private exit leading to the subterranean car park. “And then, Maeve… we’re going to find out who really owns Vale Shipping.”
