Chapter 11 - THE CRASH
For thirteen years, I had remembered my father's funeral more clearly than his accident.
Closed casket.
Rain.
My mother's hand gripping mine.
Adults speaking in whispers.
Nobody had ever allowed me to see him afterward.
That detail suddenly mattered.
"What does she mean?"
I asked my mother.
She started crying.
"I don't know."
"Did you identify Dad's body?"
"No."
The answer barely came out.
"The police said the damage was too severe."
"So who identified him?"
"A dental comparison."
"Who provided the dental records?"
My mother went silent.
St. Catherine.
Of course.
Everything came back to St. Catherine.
Noah reopened the crash file.
The vehicle identification number matched my father's car.
A badly burned body had been recovered.
But the dental confirmation had been performed through a hospital contractor.
The same contractor later implicated in M-17 record alterations.
My father might not have died that night.
For the first time since childhood, I allowed myself to imagine something dangerous.
Thomas Reed could have survived.
Hope can hurt worse than grief.
Luka understood that.
He didn't tell me my father was alive.
He didn't tell me to believe.
He simply said.
"We follow evidence."
So we did.
The crash report mentioned a second vehicle seen near the ravine.
A witness described a dark ambulance with no hospital markings.
The statement had never been followed up.
Noah found the witness.
An eighty-two-year-old retired truck driver named Ernest Hale.
He remembered the night clearly.
"I saw two men pull somebody from the wreck before the fire really caught."
He told us.
"Alive?"
I asked.
Ernest nodded.
"He was moving."
My knees nearly gave out.
"Where did they take him?"
"I don't know."
"Did you see their faces?"
"One."
He studied photographs Noah placed before him.
Then he pointed.
Harrison Bennett.
Mason's father.
The man who had paid to hide Antonio Moretti.
The man whose empire depended on a false bloodline.
The man my father had investigated.
We didn't go to the police immediately.
Not because we didn't trust them.
Because Noah wanted evidence Harrison couldn't bury.
That evening, Harrison Bennett requested a meeting.
Not with Luka.
Not with Noah.
With me.
I agreed under one condition.
Public location.
Recorded.
Lawyers nearby.
Harrison arrived alone.
Silver hair.
Expensive suit.
Calm eyes.
He sat across from me like a man discussing quarterly earnings.
"You resemble Thomas."
My hands tightened beneath the table.
"You saw my father after the crash."
He didn't deny it.
"Where is he?"
Harrison looked tired.
"Your father made choices that endangered many people."
"Where is he?"
"Some truths cause more damage when exposed."
I leaned forward.
"Where is my father?"
For the first time, Harrison's composure cracked.
"I don't know anymore."
Anymore.
I heard it.
So did the recorder.
"You did know."
Harrison closed his eyes.
Then he said something I would never forget.
"Thomas survived the crash."
My entire body went cold.
"He survived."
"Yes."
"Where did you take him?"
Harrison looked toward the window.
"To the same place Antonio Moretti was taken."
Luka stepped from the adjoining booth.
Harrison's face changed.
"And who ordered that?"
Luka asked.
Harrison stared at him.
May you like
Then answered.
"My wife."
