PART 9 — THE VOICE INSIDE THE GUITAR
Detective Ortiz would not let me return to the house.
“If Croft is waiting for you, arriving will give him exactly what he wants.”
“My best friend is inside.”
“And six officers are surrounding the property.”
“That doesn’t help Mason if Croft finds him first.”
She took my phone.
“Keep him talking if he calls again. Do not promise Croft anything, and do not reveal what we know about the tape.
The phone rang thirty seconds later.
Croft.
I answered on speaker.
“Mason has nothing to do with this.”
“Then tell me where Daniel’s guitar is.”
“You’re standing inside my music room. Find it yourself.”
“It isn’t here.”
I looked toward Rachel.
We had left the guitar on the worktable.
“What did you do with it?” Croft demanded.
“Maybe someone reached it before you.”
“Adrian.”
It was the first time Croft’s calm voice cracked.
“You’re afraid of Victor’s son?” I asked.
“Adrian is a spoiled child who believes betraying his father will make him brave.”
“You burned the Rialto.”
“I prevented a dangerous building from killing more people.”
“You nearly killed Caleb.”
A pause.
“That was not part of the plan.”
“But it didn’t stop you.”
Croft lowered his voice.
“You have no idea what I prevented seventeen years ago.”
“You hid evidence of Thomas Reed’s murder.”
“I kept Victor from destroying two families.”
Rachel moved closer to the phone.
“You came to my house after Thomas died. You looked at my pregnant stomach and told me there was no evidence of a crime.”
“Rachel.”
“You knew Victor threatened him.”
“I knew Thomas was angry and careless.”
“You knew the crane had failed inspection.”
“Daniel brought me the report.”
“And you destroyed it.”
“I made a decision.”
“For Victor.”
“For everyone.”
I could hear Croft moving through the house.
A cabinet opened.
Something struck the floor.
“You think Daniel was innocent?” he asked me.
“My father went to the police.”
“Your father came to me because he was terrified. Victor told him that if the investigation continued, Claire and Ethan would become targets.”
Claire.
My mother’s name.
Hearing it from Croft made me feel sick.
“You threatened my mother?”
“Victor did.”
“And you helped him.”
“I told Daniel the safest solution was silence.”
“My father didn’t agree.”
“He stopped asking questions.”
“No. He spent the rest of his life preserving evidence.”
Croft laughed without humor.
“Daniel waited seventeen years.”
“Because you made him believe speaking would get us killed.”
The line went quiet.
Then Croft said, “Your father understood something you do not. Sometimes a lie keeps people alive.”
“No. A lie kept Victor free.”
A loud crash came through the phone.
Then Mason shouted.
“Mason!”
Croft cursed.
The call remained connected.
I heard running footsteps.
A door slammed.
Detective Ortiz’s radio exploded with voices.
“Suspect exiting rear!”
“Black case in his right hand!”
“Move!”
Croft had found the guitar.
For several seconds, all I could hear was wind and officers shouting.
Then someone ordered Croft to the ground.
The phone hit something hard.
The line disconnected.
Detective Ortiz listened to her radio.
Finally, she looked at me.
“They have him.”
“And Mason?”
An officer answered through the radio.
“Victim is safe. Minor injury to his shoulder. No medical transport requested.”
My legs nearly gave out.
When we returned to the house, Croft was sitting in the back of a police vehicle.
His hands were secured behind him.
He stared through the window as I passed.
No apology.
No fear.
Only exhaustion.
Mason stood in the kitchen with an ice pack against his shoulder.
I hugged him before he could make a joke.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“You whispered that a man was hunting you inside my house.”
“Yes, but I whispered very calmly.”
“What happened?”
“Croft said Detective Ortiz sent him to collect evidence. I believed him until he asked where everyone was.”
“You opened the door for a stranger?”
“He had a badge.”
“A retired badge.”
“It did not say retired in large letters.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
Then I hugged him again.
Croft had searched the music room and most of the downstairs rooms.
He found Dad’s guitar beneath the piano bench, where Mason had placed it after closing the curtains.
When Mason realized what Croft wanted, he carried the case upstairs and locked himself inside my old bedroom.
Croft forced the door.
Mason escaped through the second doorway connecting to the hall.
“He was more interested in the guitar than me,” Mason said. “The moment he picked it up, I ran downstairs and opened the back door. The alarm distracted him long enough for police to enter.”
Dad’s guitar lay inside an evidence bag on the kitchen table.
A technician photographed every surface.
Then she removed the small metal plate on the back.
Behind the wires was a microcassette wrapped in waxed paper.
Seventeen years inside a guitar.
Seventeen years waiting for someone to listen.
The police took the recording to their laboratory.
That evening, Detective Ortiz returned with a digital copy.
Rachel and Caleb sat together on the couch.
Mason stood behind them.
Mr. Harlow arrived with Nora, who had been reviewing the scanned financial records from Thomas’s box.
Detective Ortiz pressed play.
At first, we heard music from the Rialto stage.
A guitar.
Someone laughing.
Then a door closed.
Victor’s voice entered clearly.
“Thomas will not sign the new inspection.”
Croft answered.
“Then replace him.”
“He copied the original report.”
“I can remove it from the case file.”
“What about Daniel?”
“He thinks he can repay the missing pension money and make this disappear.”
My hands tightened.
Victor continued.
“Daniel is sentimental. Mention his wife and son, and he will become reasonable.”
“You already threatened Rachel.”
“I reminded Thomas what he could lose.”
“If something happens at the site tomorrow, people will ask questions.”
Croft’s reply was quiet.
“Accidents close files faster than investigations.”
Caleb covered his mouth.
Rachel held him.
Victor said, “Crane Seven operates at seven. Make sure Thomas is the supervisor who signs it in.”
“He refused.”
“Then use the signature from his previous report.”
A chair scraped.
Croft spoke again.
“And after Thomas?”
“Daniel will sell me his share of the company.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
Victor laughed.
“Then his family becomes the next safety problem.”
The recording ended.
No one moved.
Victor had threatened Thomas.
Croft had agreed to hide the evidence.
And my mother and I had been next.
Dad had not remained silent because he did not care.
He had been trying to protect us from two men willing to turn murder into paperwork.
Detective Ortiz stopped the audio.
“This recording is significant, but Victor’s attorneys will challenge its authenticity, context, and chain of custody.”
“Thomas hid it before he died,” Caleb said. “What more do they need?”
“Corroborating documents. The original ledger. The crane report. Evidence connecting Croft and Victor to the explosion.”
Nora opened her folder.
“I found payments to Samuel Croft inside the scanned ledger.”
“How many?” the detective asked.
“Seven transfers over three years. They were disguised as security-consulting fees.”
Mr. Harlow looked toward the window.
“Victor will say Croft acted alone.”
“He already placed him on leave,” I said.
“He is cutting the rope before Croft can pull him down.”
My security camera alerted me to movement on the porch.
Every officer in the room turned.
A young man stood outside.
His shirt was torn.
Blood covered one side of his face.
He carried a red leather ledger beneath his arm.
Adrian Mercer looked into the camera and raised both hands.
Then he collapsed against the front door.
