"She's not here yet. We're working on finding her."
Caleb pressed both hands against his face.
"I was supposed to keep running."
"You ran far enough."
"They told me not to tell anyone."
Victor waited.
Caleb lowered his hands.
"The other man said if I told anyone about the files, he'd make sure Mom never saw me again."
Victor's expression remained calm, but something hardened behind his eyes.
"Did he say anything else?"
Caleb nodded slowly.
"He said people disappear all the time. He said sometimes the police look for them, and sometimes they don't. He said it depends on how important the missing person is."
Victor sat very still.
Those were not the words of a man who expected to be held accountable. They were the words of someone who had grown accustomed to using fear as a substitute for authority.
"Did your mother hear him say that?"
"I think so."
"What did she do?"
"She told him he was a coward."
Caleb's voice faltered.
"She wasn't scared of him at first. She told him that the records belonged to the people of Blackridge and that he couldn't scare her into giving them up."
The boy looked toward the door.
"Then he hurt her."
Victor did not interrupt.
"She fell down, and I thought she was dead. But she moved her hand. She looked at me and told me to run."
Caleb's eyes filled with tears again.
"I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help her, but I couldn't. I couldn't even—"
He stopped and pressed his lips together.
Victor moved his chair slightly closer, leaving enough space between them that Caleb did not feel trapped.
"You were not responsible for stopping those men," he said. "They were adults. They chose to hurt your mother. Nothing you did made that your fault."
"But I left her there."
"Because she told you to leave."
"What if she thinks I abandoned her?"
Victor considered the question carefully.
"Your mother knows you love her. She gave you the envelope because she trusted you to carry something important. She sent you away because she wanted you alive. If she could hear you right now, I believe she would be proud that you made it here."
Caleb stared at him.
"How can you know that?"
"I can't know exactly what she would say. But I knew your grandfather, and I can see something of him in you. You kept going even when you were exhausted and frightened. You came here because you believed there might be someone willing to help."
Victor rested his hands on his knees.
"That took courage."
Caleb looked down at his bandaged feet.
"I was just scared."
"You can be scared and courageous at the same time."
The boy said nothing.
But he stopped trying to hide his tears.
A little later, Bear returned with news that Dr. Brooks had agreed to come to the clubhouse. She would arrive through the rear entrance, examine Caleb, and help determine whether he needed hospital treatment. She had also advised them not to delay professional medical care if his condition worsened.
Victor approved.
The club's concern about compromised local authorities could not become an excuse to deny a child medical treatment. If Caleb needed emergency care, they would take him to a hospital and document every step. Their job was to protect him, not to make decisions that might place his health at greater risk.
While they waited, Mason finished reviewing the documents.
He emerged from the office holding a notebook.
"Victor, there's something else."
Victor followed him into the workshop.
Mason placed the notebook on the desk and opened it to a page covered with handwritten figures. Emily had made notes beside several transfers, marking dates and amounts in red ink. At the bottom of the page, she had written a series of initials.
R. V.
D. R.
A. K.
V. H.
Victor stared at the final pair.
V. H.
His own initials.
For a moment, the room seemed to tilt.
Mason watched him carefully.
"Do you know what this means?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Victor looked up sharply.
"You're asking whether I've taken money from a corrupt property developer?"
"I'm asking because your initials are here, and the document doesn't explain why."
Victor forced himself to look back at the page.
The figures beside his initials were substantial. One entry showed a transfer of $75,000. Another showed $120,000. A third, dated nearly four years earlier, listed a payment of $40,000.
The total exceeded two hundred thousand dollars.
Victor felt a cold, unfamiliar sensation in his stomach.
He had never received that money.
He knew it with absolute certainty.
"Where did these transfers go?" he asked.
Mason turned to another page.
"The account numbers are incomplete. Emily appears to have copied the last four digits from several statements, but we don't have the originals. There's a reference to a consulting firm called Meridian Advisory."
Victor frowned.
"I've never heard of it."
"Could someone have used the club's name without your knowledge?"
"Possibly. But why use my initials?"
Mason leaned back against the workbench.
"Because you have a reputation. If someone wanted to discredit the Iron Wolves, they could make it look as though you were involved. Or they could be using the club as a cover for money they wanted to move."
Victor examined the dates.
The earliest transfer had occurred during a period when the Iron Wolves were helping rebuild a community center after a fire. The second appeared to coincide with a charity fundraiser for families displaced by the flood.
He remembered both events.
He remembered the volunteers, the donated materials, the endless paperwork, and the arguments over whether the city would ever reimburse the club for the expenses it had covered.
He also remembered that a local business consortium had offered to sponsor some of the work.
He had refused the offer.
Or had he?
Victor closed his eyes, searching his memory.
Four years earlier, a man claiming to represent a regional construction firm had approached the club. He had offered to cover the cost of materials for the community center, provided the Iron Wolves agreed to let the company place a small plaque near the entrance.
Victor had declined because the terms seemed too vague.
A month later, the club received an anonymous donation through a charitable foundation. The money had been used to buy building supplies and medical equipment for the families they were helping.