"Because the sheriff arrived before the state investigators."
Mason looked toward the window.
He could barely hear the diner around him.
His mother had known.
She had stood at the scene.
She had watched his father's body being removed.
And she had gone home and told her son that a truck had crossed the center line.
"Why did she never tell me?"
Sam closed the folder.
"Because she believed the men responsible would come after you."
Mason looked at him.
"Did they?"
Sam nodded.
"Yes."
He removed a final document.
It was a photograph of Mason's childhood home.
The date was written beneath it.
September 4.
The morning after his father's death.
A vehicle was parked across the street.
Someone had circled the driver's face.
It was Frank Dalton.
Mason stared at the photograph.
Sam spoke.
"Your mother was threatened. She was told that if she ever discussed what happened, you would be next."
Mason slowly sat down.
For fifteen years, he had thought his mother had kept silent because she wanted to forget.
Now he understood that she might have been trying to keep him alive.
But the truth had not disappeared.
It had simply waited.
And now it had returned.
When Mason reached his house, Leah was sitting on the porch.
She stood when she saw him.
"How did it go?"
Mason walked past her.
"Not well."
She followed him inside.
Daniel was in the kitchen, examining the ledger.
Mason placed the photographs on the table.
"Your father wasn't the only one involved."
Daniel looked up.
"Who else?"
"Harold Voss."
Daniel went pale.
"The sheriff?"
"Yes."
Leah sat down.
"What about your father?"
Mason looked at the photograph of Evelyn.
"He was killed by Frank Dalton."
Silence.
Then Leah whispered:
"Your mother knew?"
Mason nodded.
"She was there."
Daniel closed the ledger.
"Then why did she never go to the police?"
"Because she was threatened."
Mason took a long breath.
"And because she thought keeping me ignorant would keep me safe."
Leah reached for his hand.
Mason didn't pull away.
For several minutes, the three of them sat together.
Then Daniel spoke.
"There's something else in the ledger."
Mason looked at him.
"What?"
Daniel turned to a page near the end.
A list of payments appeared beneath the heading:
SPECIAL PROTECTION FUND.
Several names were listed.
One belonged to Harold Voss.
Another belonged to Frank Dalton.
The third was unfamiliar.
EVELYN COLE — 25,000.
Mason stared.
"What is that?"
Daniel examined the entry.
"It could be a payment."
"From Bennett?"
"Possibly."
Mason shook his head.
"My mother wouldn't have taken money from him."
Leah studied the page.
"Maybe it wasn't a payment to her."
Mason looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"Maybe it was money paid in her name."
Daniel nodded slowly.
"That's possible."
Mason examined the date.
The payment had been recorded three weeks after his father's death.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
CONFIRM DELIVERY THROUGH FAMILY REPRESENTATIVE.
Mason looked up.
"Who was the family representative?"
Daniel turned the page.
A name appeared.
RAY MERCER.
Mason felt his stomach tighten.
Ray.
Again.
He picked up his phone.
But before he could call, it rang.
The hospital.
"Mason Cole?"
"Yes."
"This is Dr. Patterson. I'm calling about Raymond Mercer."
Mason stood.
"Is he okay?"
There was a pause.
"He's stable, but something happened during the night."
"What?"
"Someone entered his room."
Mason gripped the phone.
"Who?"
"We don't know. The security camera was disabled."
"Was Ray hurt?"
"No. But he disappeared."
Mason closed his eyes.
"What?"
"His bed is empty. The staff found the intravenous line disconnected and the rear stairwell door open."
Mason looked at Leah.
Then Daniel.
Ray was gone.
And someone had taken him.
The hospital's security office was crowded with police officers when Mason arrived.
A uniformed deputy stood near the reception desk.
Another spoke to a nurse.
Mason walked directly toward the security supervisor.
"Where is Raymond Mercer?"
The supervisor looked uncomfortable.
"Sir, we're doing everything we can."
"Then tell me what happened."
"An unidentified individual entered the hospital at approximately two fifteen this morning."
"How?"
"Using a staff access card."
"Did the cameras record the person?"
"Not clearly."
"Why?"
"The cameras in the corridor were disabled."
Mason stared at him.
"How many cameras?"
"Three."
"Convenient."
The supervisor looked away.
Mason noticed a familiar figure standing near the elevator.
Sheriff Harold Voss.
The sheriff was wearing his uniform, his silver badge polished, and his expression carefully neutral.
"Mason."
Mason turned.
"Sheriff."
"I heard about Ray."
"Did you?"
Voss nodded.
"Terrible business."
Mason watched him.
"Do you know where he is?"
"No."
"Have you searched the building?"
"We're working on it."
"Then perhaps you should work faster."
Voss looked at him.
"Watch your tone."
Mason stepped closer.
"Somebody walked into a hospital, disabled three cameras, and removed an injured man from his bed. I think my tone is the least of your problems."
Voss lowered his voice.
"You're getting involved in things you don't understand."
Mason looked directly into his eyes.
"That's what everybody keeps telling me."
The sheriff's expression changed.
For a fraction of a second, something cold appeared behind his eyes.
Then it disappeared.
"Go home, Mason."
"No."
"This isn't your investigation."
"It became my investigation when someone cut my brake line."
Voss stared at him.
Then he walked away.
Leah approached from the corridor.
"Was that the sheriff?"
Mason nodded.
She looked toward the elevator.
"Daniel said he recognized him."
"From where?"
"From the night of the accident."
Mason turned.
"What?"
Leah looked frightened.
"He was standing beside the second vehicle."
Mason stared at her.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"I saw him before I lost consciousness."
Mason looked toward the elevator.
Harold Voss was already gone.
He turned to the security supervisor.
"Get me the hospital visitor records."
"I'm not authorized—"
"Then call someone who is."
A voice came from behind them.
"I can help."
Mason turned.
A woman in a dark blue coat stood near the reception desk.
She was in her early forties, with short brown hair and a serious expression.
She held up an identification card.
"Special Agent Rebecca Shaw. Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Mason looked at the card.
Then at her.
"What do you want?"
"To speak with you."
"About what?"
"Thomas Bennett."
Mason's expression hardened.
"How do you know about him?"
Rebecca looked toward Leah.
"Because we've been investigating his organization for eleven months."
She lowered her voice.
"And because your friend Raymond Mercer is the reason we haven't been able to close the case."
Mason stared.
"What does that mean?"
Rebecca opened her briefcase.
Inside was a photograph of Ray.
He was standing beside a dark sedan.
A second man stood next to him.
The man wore a black jacket and a silver ring.
Daniel Mercer.