Stolen Power
Page 16
To work on something like a kidnapping, a case where I was personally invested in the outcome, was the spark that lit my fire. I didn’t sleep for more than three hours over those days, too anxious to rest, too desperate to save Millie from any horrible fate.
Casey and I did that, of course.
We saved Millie.
Not that I ever thought that Damon would’ve harmed Millie. She was always safe in his care. She went back to her mother’s house the day after the drop.
I convinced Chase not to question Millie, to prevent further trauma, and she would speak to him when she was ready. And for his part, I think he felt enough guilt not to want to bring it up.
Millie told Casey about the days she had spent with her grandfather, laughing, playing games and watching old television movies. Apparently, Damon wanted to introduce Millie to the cartoons of his youth—and she spent the bulk of the week watching Disney movies from the fifties. All the while eating her favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Damon’s body was found the next day when the workers arrived—an unfortunate suicide, they ruled it. It was more euthanasia, I would’ve argued, but that isn’t in our law books. The funeral was in two days, and I wasn’t sure that Chase would attend.
Chase paid my fee, fifty thousand as promised, but he wasn’t happy about it. He sent me a three-page email about how my services were highly overrated, and that while he got his daughter back unharmed, he still lost his money. He said that if I was half the investigator that he’d been led to believe, then not only would he have got his daughter back, but it would have been without losing a single cent.
Taking a sip of my whiskey at the chapter break of my book, I leaned back in my chair and drew a deep breath.
I was still waiting for the penny to drop.
I had expected Chase to storm into our office and verbally abuse me days ago, but he clearly hadn’t put it all together yet. It was counting down to almost five full days past the event, and he still hadn’t put together all the pieces of the puzzle.
The news of Hugh Guthrie’s release from prison was still getting under my skin, but I knew I had to take my time with him. I couldn’t go in all guns blazing. That wouldn’t work. I would have an opportunity to take him down. I knew that. I just had to wait for my chance.
I turned back to my book with a little shake of my head, but I didn’t get far.
Hearing the front door of the office slam shut, I smiled. I relished a good confrontation and the moment had come. Finally, Chase had managed to connect the dots. At just after 10am, he stormed into the office, ignoring Casey at the front desk, and charging straight through my open door.
“What the hell?!”
It was more of a statement than a question, so I didn’t respond, barely lifting my eyes up from my book.
“Millie just told me that she spent five days with Damon and that a woman named Casey helped her into the van!” He spat the words at me.
“And?” I reached across and sipped my whiskey, savoring the dance of grain on my tongue.
“That’s your assistant!”
“And?”
“And you stole my money! You set me up from the start!”
“I never stole a cent of your money.” I stood from behind my table. “You left one million dollars unattended on a park bench. Who knows who found that money? I don’t know who took the bag. We didn’t have time to set up the cameras, remember?”
“You took the money.” He tried to look intimidating. “And I’ll prove it.”
“Go ahead.” I picked up my phone and put it within his reach. “The FBI deal with situations like this. I’m sure they would love to talk with you.”
He hesitated, then stepped back. He had no recourse and suddenly didn’t know what to do next. This was not going according to his plan.
“You’ve set me up. You’ve ripped me off.” The shock was written all over his face. “Why? Just because some idiots invested in the wrong company?”
I would’ve loved to have argued with him, but there would’ve been no use. People like Chase Martin are so convinced of their actions, their own power, that nothing could sway them from what they did. They lied to the world and then they lied to themselves. Who knows what they really believed.
Kyle got his money delivered to his account, as the kidnapper had promised, as did everyone else from the investment group. Even the wife of one of the deceased investors. Damon had left all the information we needed, including bank account details, in the file he gave me.
There was one investor unaccounted for who had died, but who had no one to pass it on to. With that final one hundred thousand that was left over, I set up a trust fund for Millie to access when she turned eighteen, all in the name of her war-hero grandfather, Damon Hardy.
But more important than that, more important than anything else for me, was that the memory of my deceased wife wasn’t tarnished. Claire’s dying wish, to provide a safety net for her beloved niece, was restored.
With an agreement from Ben, I set-up a trust fund for Alannah, my niece, in the memory of my wife. That was what she left in her will. That’s what she wanted to do with the money she left behind. Ben and I became co-signatories, meaning the money could only be accessed with agreement from both of us. After the events of the last two weeks, I didn’t imagine that Ben would ever come to me for money before Alannah turned eighteen.
“You made me leave that money on the park bench.” Chase pointed his finger in my direction. “You made me lose the million.”
I raised my eyebrows.
And he lowered his finger.
“I didn’t make you do anything, Chase. What I did was save your daughter. I saved a five-year-old girl from being killed. Haven’t you seen the news? The last two kidnappings in Florida have ended up with missing money and dead kids. We didn’t have that here. Sure, you’re missing your money, but what’s money when you have your child back?”
He looked perplexed, because he knew I was right.
The last two kidnappings handled by the FBI in Florida had become public after they failed to secure the child, while still losing the money. That wasn’t going to happen in Chicago. Not in my city. I made sure of it.
“You planned this,” Chase whispered. “You ripped me off. I got a phone call today from one of the guys in the investment group who was bragging that he had my money. He had it all back. He said that I ‘donated’ it to him.”
Well, they weren’t supposed to do that, but then, if I was dealing with a man like Chase Martin, I would’ve called him as well. I would have laughed in his face and let him know that I got the better of him. It was the least that he deserved. In truth he deserved jail, and who knows, perhaps it wouldn’t be long before that caught up with him as well. But for now he had his daughter and his freedom and for that, he should have been thankful, no matter what the financial cost.
“You left the money in the park, Chase. I don’t know what happened to it after we left. You made the decision to save your daughter, which is the right decision.” I stood up straight. “I didn’t see anyone take that money, and nor did you. We don’t know who took your money. It could’ve been a homeless guy, for all we know. We were a mile down the road before anyone would’ve even seen that bag.”
“That’s not true.” Chase shook his head, still coming to terms with the fact that he had been beaten. “You ripped me off. Millie told me that she had been with Damon the whole time I thought she was missing, just hanging out, watching movies. She said Damon left her alone to watch television sometimes, and then would come back with the best doughnuts. I didn’t believe her at first, I thought she must’ve been dreaming about it, but then she mentioned Casey. Someone had to get Millie from the warehouse to the park, and that someone had to be you.”
“You can’t prove anything.” I smiled and raised my hands. “But unfortunately for you, I can, if I feel like it. Things have been a bit slow here this week and I have a lot of paperwork the FBI would like t
o look over, anonymously left with me, relating to some financial irregularities. There are some links missing, but nothing that a good private investigator couldn’t find out. I’ve enjoyed a few quiet days, but it would be good to get my teeth stuck into some proper investigative work next week, if no new cases turn up, that is.”
Chase shook his head again, and paced the floor, clearly beaten. “You’re a piece of work, Jack.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “How is Millie?”
He stared at me, his jaw clenched, but then he relaxed.
“I love that girl. More than anything. This whole drama has made me realize that she should be the main girl in my life. Ruby’s moved to California now, so I can finally focus on Millie.” He looked to the floor. “I couldn’t dream of losing her. She’s… she’s an angel. Just like Damon used to say.”
“I’m glad she got through this without any mental scars. She wouldn’t even know that anything went wrong.”
“She told Tanya that I asked Damon to look after her and that she got to spend some time by herself in a warehouse. Tanya went off at me.” He shrugged. “Said it was my fault. That I shouldn’t have asked Damon to care for her while I was supposed to be looking after her.”
“Looks like everyone’s a winner.”
“I’m not. I lost a million dollars.” He snapped back. For a moment, I thought he had grown a heart, but the mere mention of money snapped him back. “I was the loser in this whole scenario. And I don’t like losing.”
“Can’t win everything,” I shrugged. “Sometimes losing makes you stronger. And by the sounds of it, you have started to understand how important Millie is to you.”
“Don’t lecture me.” He raised his finger again, gritting his teeth. “How could you justify ripping off your clients?”
At first I thought he was joking, that he was employing a little sarcasm for comedic effect, and he was finding it within himself to laugh at his own misfortune.
But then I realized that he was serious.
He couldn’t see the double standard or the irony. That there really was a one-way moral mirror with Chase Martin that reflected nothing of his ill deeds back towards him. I tried to lay it out for him.
“You tell me, Chase.”
His face went white. “I don’t…”
“Tell me how does it feel, Chase?” I took a step towards him. “How does it feel to have your hard earned money disappear, not that yours is hard earned, knowing that you have no legal recourse? Do you feel helpless? Weak and beaten?” I stepped into his personal space. “Helpless like you made all those other people feel when you ripped them off?”
“Of course, I feel helpless.” As he said the statement, his voice trailed off, no doubt finally understanding the extreme hypocrisy in it. “Nobody deserves to be ripped off.”
“Well, Chase.” I walked across and opened the door for him to leave. “As you repeated often, that’s the game we all play.”
THE End
Author’s Note:
Thank you for reading Stolen Power. I hope you enjoyed the twists and turns of this story.
Thank you to all the people that made this story happen. Writing is about drawing from experience, and the characters in this book have elements of the people I’ve met throughout life. No matter how much I disagree with them, I love listening to other ideas and outlooks on life. Not many of us have it all figured out, and we can all learn a little bit from each other.
At the time that I write this author’s note, the world is in the grip of the Corona Virus pandemic. It’s a very hard time throughout the world, especially for those who have lost loved ones and are feeling alone. To all my readers, please, stay safe.
You can find my website at: peteromahoney.com
And if you wish, you can contact me at: peter@peteromahoney.com
Take care,
Peter O’Mahoney
Also by Peter O’Mahoney
*****
In the Jack Valentine Thriller Series:
Gates of Power
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In the Tex Hunter Legal Thriller Series:
Power and Justice
Faith and Justice
Corrupt Justice
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In the Bill Harvey Legal Thriller Series:
Redeeming Justice
Will of Justice
Fire and Justice
A Time for Justice
Truth and Justice
*****