Ray's brother.
Rebecca placed another photograph on the desk.
It showed the same man entering a warehouse two days earlier.
"Your friend has been communicating with him."
Mason looked at the photographs.
"No."
Rebecca studied him.
"You're certain?"
"Ray told me his brother was dead."
Rebecca shook her head.
"Daniel Mercer is very much alive."
Mason stared at the photograph.
Then he understood something.
The letter.
The ring.
The photograph from September 3.
Ray had not simply been protecting the memory of his brother.
He had been protecting the possibility that Daniel Mercer was still alive.
And now that possibility had become a fact.
Rebecca spoke again.
"Mr. Cole, I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"Do you know where Daniel Mercer is?"
Mason looked at Leah.
Then at the photograph.
"No."
Rebecca nodded slowly.
"Then I suggest you find out."
She closed the briefcase.
"Because the man who tried to kill you is not Thomas Bennett."
She looked directly at Mason.
"It's Daniel Mercer."
Mason did not answer immediately.
He looked at the photograph of Daniel Mercer.
The man was older than the image Ray had kept in his office. His hair was almost completely gray, and his face carried the deep lines of someone who had spent years living under pressure.
But the silver ring was unmistakable.
"How long have you known he's alive?" Mason asked.
Rebecca Shaw folded her arms.
"Approximately eleven months."
"Why didn't you arrest him?"
"We tried."
"And?"
"He disappeared."
Mason looked toward the hospital entrance.
"Did you know Ray was communicating with him?"
"We suspected it."
"Then why didn't you protect him?"
Rebecca's expression tightened.
"We didn't know he was going to be taken from the hospital."
"That's convenient."
She accepted the criticism without responding.
"Mr. Cole, your friend has information that could bring down an entire criminal organization. We believe Daniel Mercer has been trying to recover a set of original financial records."
"The red ledger?"
Rebecca looked at him.
"You have it?"
Mason didn't answer.
She sighed.
"Then we need to talk somewhere private."
"Not until you answer my questions."
"Ask."
"Why did Daniel Mercer target me?"
Rebecca looked toward Leah.
"Because your father had evidence against him."
Mason shook his head.
"My father died nearly thirty years ago."
"Exactly."
Rebecca opened another folder.
Inside were copies of old documents.
"Daniel Mercer was not simply involved in moving stolen equipment. He was part of a network that used false identities, fraudulent transportation companies, and compromised public officials to conceal larger financial crimes."
She placed one document in front of Mason.
"Your father discovered that the network had been using his name."
Mason looked at the paper.
Rebecca continued.
"He planned to expose it. But before he could do so, he was killed."
"By Frank Dalton."
"Yes."
"And Daniel Mercer?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"He arranged the operation."
Mason felt his jaw tighten.
"Then why is Thomas Bennett still walking around?"
"Because Bennett was the public face of the organization. Mercer controlled much of the activity behind the scenes."
Leah stepped forward.
"Then why did Daniel Bennett blame his father?"
Rebecca looked at her.
"Because Thomas Bennett was also involved. He may not have ordered every killing, but he approved the cover-ups."
Daniel Bennett approached.
"You're saying my father didn't order the quarry attack?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"We believe he did."
Daniel stared.
"Then who ordered the attack on my sister?"
"Daniel Mercer."
Mason looked at the agent.
"And the man who cut my brake line?"
Rebecca placed another photograph on the desk.
It showed a man standing near Mason's motorcycle at the garage.
The image was grainy, taken from a security camera.
But the man's face was visible.
Mason recognized him.
It was Frank Dalton.
The same man he had buried twelve years earlier.
The same man everyone believed was dead.
Mason stared at the photograph.
Rebecca spoke quietly.
"Frank Dalton is alive."
Leah stepped backward.
"No."
Daniel looked as if someone had struck him.
Rebecca nodded.
"We believe he has been working for Daniel Mercer for years."
Mason examined the image.
"Where was this taken?"
"Outside your garage."
"When?"
"Two days before the brake line was cut."
Mason felt a cold anger settle inside him.
Frank had been there.
He had stood outside the building Mason had helped build.
He had watched him.
He had waited.
And then he had tried to kill him.
Mason looked at Rebecca.
"Where is he now?"
"We don't know."
"Then find him."
"We're trying."
"Try harder."
Rebecca closed her folder.
"Mr. Cole, I understand your anger. But if you move against these men without coordination, you could destroy the investigation."
Mason looked at her.
"My friend has been kidnapped. My family was targeted. Someone has tried to kill me twice."
"Three times," Leah whispered.
Mason turned.
"What?"
She looked at him.
"The night of the quarry accident. Your father. You."
Rebecca nodded.
"She's right."
Mason stared at the floor.
Three attempts.
Three generations of secrets.
And still, the people responsible were walking free.
He looked at Rebecca.
"Tell me what you need."
She answered without hesitation.
"The ledger."
Mason shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Mr. Cole—"
"Not until Ray is safe."
Rebecca studied him.
Then she nodded.
"Fair enough."
She gave him a card.
"If you find anything, call me directly."
Mason took it.
As she turned to leave, he stopped her.
"Agent Shaw."
She looked back.
"What?"
"One more thing."
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me where my uncle Arthur is buried?"
Rebecca hesitated.
Then she answered.
"Blackwater Memorial Cemetery. Section Four."
Mason nodded.
"Thank you."
Rebecca left.
Leah watched her go.
"Do you believe her?"
Mason looked at the photographs.
"I believe she's telling us part of the truth."
"And the rest?"
He put the photographs into his jacket.
"We find out ourselves."
That afternoon, Mason returned to the cemetery.
He went alone.
Leah had wanted to accompany him, but he had insisted that she stay with Daniel.
He needed time to think.
Arthur Cole's grave stood beneath an old oak tree.
The headstone was simple.
ARTHUR JAMES COLE.
1948–2011.
Beloved Brother. Loyal Friend.
Mason stood before it.
He had not visited the grave in years.
He remembered attending the funeral, although he had never seen the body.
The casket had been closed.
His mother had cried.
His father had been gone for years by then.
Ray had stood beside him.
And Frank Dalton had delivered a short speech about loyalty and family.
Mason looked down at the grave.
"Hello, Uncle Arthur."
The wind moved through the oak leaves.
He crouched and brushed dirt away from the base of the headstone.
Something metallic caught his attention.
A small object had been placed beneath the stone's lower edge.
Mason pulled it free.