The message ended with a sharp sound, like a door slamming.
Daniel sent the voicemail to Ellis. She called back and asked him to preserve the original recording. The number was unregistered, but investigators would attempt to trace it.
“Do you know where Voss is?” she asked.
“No. But if that was him, he may know where Marcus is.”
“We’ll follow the lead. You must not try to contact him yourself.”
Daniel agreed. He was beginning to understand that the people involved were not moving as one. There were cracks in the operation—people afraid, people guilty, people trying to escape. Each crack could become a way through, but rushing toward one could cause it to close.
He placed the phone on the table and looked at Lily’s cardboard lighthouse. Its tiny bulb was still glowing.
Somewhere in the city, Adrian Voss had risked sending a message. Somewhere, Marcus Bell might still be waiting for help. And somewhere behind the polished public image of Victor Sloane, a partner was making plans that even Rourke might not fully understand.
Daniel had spent years believing the past was a door he had closed.
Now the door was opening from the other side.
Adrian Voss called again at 6:10 a.m. Daniel was awake already, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of untouched coffee. He did not answer immediately. He forwarded the incoming number to Detective Ellis, waited for her confirmation, and then picked up.
“Mr. Mercer?” the voice said.
“Adrian?”
“Yes. I don’t have much time.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you that. They check the places I used to go. I’m calling from a borrowed phone.”
“Are you safe?”
A bitter laugh came through the speaker. “Safe isn’t the word I’d use. Hidden, maybe. For the moment.”
Daniel kept his voice calm. “Your message said Rourke has a partner. Who?”
“I don’t know the full name. The people around him call the man the Patron. He funds the events, chooses the guests, and decides which fighters are worth paying for. Rourke arranges the matches. Sloane supplies the security. But the Patron is the one who decides what the whole thing is for.”
“What does he want with me?”
“Your name. Your reputation. Your refusal. You were one of the few fighters who walked away from Rourke without signing anything. The Patron sees that as unfinished business.”
Daniel looked toward the hallway, where Lily was still asleep. “Why would that matter to a man who runs private events?”
“Because he’s not selling fights. He’s selling control. He wants people to believe that no one can refuse him—not a fighter, not a promoter, not a witness. If he can make you come back, he can tell every other person who has ever said no that they can be made to change their mind.”
Daniel felt anger rise, but he held it at a distance. “And Marcus?”
“He was supposed to fight in the showcase. He tried to leave after he learned the opponent had been chosen to injure him. He’d seen a medical waiver that made it clear they expected serious harm. He took a photograph and tried to get it to someone outside. That’s why they grabbed him.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Not now. They moved him after the storage building was compromised. I heard he was taken to a property near the old rail yards, but I don’t know which building.”
Daniel wrote down every word. “Can you give this to the police?”
“I’m trying to. I’ve been afraid for years. I told myself I was protecting my family by staying quiet. Then I saw Marcus, and I realized the silence only gave them more room.”
“Why contact me?”
“Because you know what it means to walk away. You did it when the money was in front of you. I didn’t. I stayed too long, and I helped make the machine work.”
His voice broke on the last sentence. Daniel did not rush to comfort him. He knew that guilt could not be erased by a kind response, but it could be faced honestly.
“Tell Detective Ellis what you told me,” Daniel said. “She can help protect you better than I can.”
“I’ll speak to her if she can guarantee—”
“No one can guarantee nothing bad will happen,” Daniel interrupted gently. “But you can choose to give her the truth. That’s a choice they can’t make for you.”
The line remained quiet. Then Voss said, “I’ll call her.”
He ended the call.
Daniel immediately sent his notes to Ellis and waited. Twenty minutes later, she confirmed that Voss had contacted the department through a lawyer. Investigators were arranging a secure interview and checking the rail-yard lead. The information about Marcus’s planned injury gave the case a new urgency.
“Do not go near the rail yards,” Ellis said. “We’ll handle it.”
“I won’t.”
This time, he felt the promise settle more firmly. He was not surrendering responsibility. He was choosing the form of responsibility that could actually help.
By late morning, investigators had located a property near the rail yards that matched Voss’s description. It was registered to a company that had once leased equipment to Sloane’s security firm. A surveillance team observed two vehicles entering and leaving. The police were preparing to seek another warrant, but they had not yet confirmed Marcus was inside.
Then a new problem emerged. Someone had posted Daniel’s home address on a sports forum, along with a photograph of Lily’s school entrance. The post was removed after being reported, but copies had already circulated.
Detective Ellis ordered additional patrols and told Daniel to keep Lily away from the house until the threat was assessed. Rachel began packing a small bag without being asked. Lily watched the adults move around the room, her expression growing more worried with each passing minute.
“Are we moving again?” she asked.
“Just for a little while,” Daniel said.
“I want my own room.”
“I know.”
“I want to stop being brave.”
The words struck him harder than any punch he had ever taken. Daniel knelt in front of her and held her hands.