Chapter 10 - The Wrong Michael
Emma’s mind rejected the word.
Michael.
Eleanor’s son.
The CEO.
Before she could ask anything, Detective Keene reached them with two officers.
“Stay down!”
Another officer dragged Darren behind the barrier while Grant’s team moved between the containers searching for the shooter.
The gray sedan was empty.
No Mateo.
No driver.
Just a key in the ignition and a disposable phone on the passenger seat.
Paramedics rushed Darren away with a bullet wound through the upper shoulder. Before the ambulance doors closed, Keene leaned inside.
“You said Michael. Michael who?”
Darren’s face was gray from pain.
He whispered, “Not Whitmore.”
Then the doors shut.
Emma almost collapsed from relief.
Keene turned to her. “Did you hear the last name?”
Emma shook her head.
Back at the command post, officers searched every employee and vendor database for a Michael connected to Beacon Logistics.
At 1:17 a.m., Grant found him.
Michael Larkin.
Director of Operations for Beacon Logistics.
M.L.
The initials from the freezer ledger.
Eleanor sat down slowly.
“So Marissa Lane wasn’t M.L.”
“Not in the binder,” Grant said. “But that doesn’t clear her.”
Keene pulled up Larkin’s photograph.
Forty-six. Former warehouse manager. No serious criminal record. Beacon’s corporate filings showed he had become operations director three years earlier.
Emma studied his face.
“I’ve seen him.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Where?” Keene asked.
“In the store. Maybe two months ago. Darren told us he was an auditor.”
“Did he speak to Mateo?”
Emma closed her eyes, trying to remember.
Then she saw it.
Mateo pushing a pallet through receiving. Larkin standing beside Darren. Larkin pointing at the security camera above the dock.
“Yes.”
Keene’s phone buzzed.
She answered, listened, and immediately stood.
“We found Larkin’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Chelsea. Outside an abandoned cold-storage facility.”
Emma jumped up.
Keene pointed at her. “You are not coming.”
This time Emma didn’t argue.
She was tired, soaked, and finally scared enough to understand that courage and recklessness were not the same thing.
Police tactical units moved on the building at 1:42 a.m.
At 2:06, Keene called.
Eleanor put the phone on speaker.
“We have Mateo,” Keene said.
Emma covered her mouth.
“He’s alive. Shaken, bruised, but alive.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“And Larkin?” Grant asked.
“Gone.”
Emma’s relief faded.
Keene continued. “We found something else. A laptop was left behind. It contains payment spreadsheets from Beacon.”
“That’s good,” Eleanor said.
“Maybe. One file lists monthly payments to a corporate executive.”
Grant leaned forward.
“Who?”
May you like
Keene’s answer made Eleanor’s face go white.
“Marissa Lane.”
