Chapter 10 - The Mill Before Sunrise
I did not go alone.
The police wanted to track the phone, surround the mill, and negotiate. Adrian insisted North Meridian would detect every official vehicle within a mile.
Naomi argued that rescuing Derek was not my responsibility.
Mom said nothing until everyone stopped talking.
Then she asked, “Will you go?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to save him?”
I looked at the dark phone screen.
“I do not know.”
“That is not the same as no.”
She placed the brass key in my palm.
“Then go as the woman you are, not the sister he remembers.”
At 4:40 in the morning, Adrian drove me toward the abandoned textile district. An unmarked police team followed at a distance beyond normal surveillance range. I wore a transmitter hidden inside my collar.
The Bellweather mill had been closed for twenty years. Dad once brought us there as children and told us our great-grandmother had worked fourteen-hour shifts under its broken windows.
“She bought our first house with these hands,” he said.
Now the mill stood black against the pale sky.
The side door was open.
I entered carrying the key.
A row of industrial lamps flickered on.
Derek sat tied to a chair in the center of the floor.
Blood darkened his shirt.
A woman stepped from behind a support beam.
Celeste Ward was in her late sixties, elegant, silver-haired, and calm. She wore the blue-circle pin.
“You look like your father,” she said.
“I have been told.”
“He was stubborn.”
“He died.”
“Eventually.”
I held up the key.
“Release Derek.”
She smiled.
“You came for him after everything.”
“I came for answers.”
“That is also like Arthur.”
Derek lifted his head.
“Iris, leave.”
Celeste touched his shoulder.
“He has become repetitive.”
“Why did you take him?”
“He stole from us.”
“He claims Dad owed you.”
“Arthur owed me nothing. Derek owed me everything.”
She walked toward me.
“Years ago, your brother diverted inventory using your routing system. He needed buyers. Grant Bell introduced him to our network. We financed the theft. Then Arthur discovered it and repaid your company before the losses became public.”
“So the debt was settled.”
“The money was. The betrayal was not.”
“What did Derek betray?”
“He kept copies of our client list.”
Adrian’s voice sounded in my earpiece, barely audible.
Keep her talking.
Celeste continued.
“Your father hid the copies in the blue account. Derek spent years searching for them. He believed the house contained the access key.”
“It did.”
“Yes.”
“Why abuse Mom?”
“That was not my instruction.”
Derek laughed weakly.
“No. That part was free.”
Celeste looked down at him with disgust.
“He used your mother as cover because investigators rarely suspect the victim. He planned to move the house sale funds through her account, accuse her of fraud, and exchange the blue-account evidence for immunity from us.”
Melissa had helped build the trap.
Grant had financed the sale.
Derek intended to survive all of them.
“Where is Grant?” I asked.
“Trying to leave the country.”
“And Melissa?”
“Trying to decide which husband she loved more: Derek or money.”
I tightened my grip on the key.
“What happens after I give this to you?”
“You receive your brother.”
“And the evidence?”
“Destroyed.”
“No.”
Celeste’s smile faded.
“You are not negotiating.”
“I own the blue account.”
“You cannot access it without the ribbon.”
“Derek has the ribbon.”
Celeste reached into her coat and removed it.
“We took it from him.”
“Then you have what you need.”
“The ribbon and key open only the physical archive. Your biometric signature releases the digital records.”
Dad had made me the final lock.
Celeste gestured toward a metal console.
“Place your hand there.”
Derek struggled against the ropes.
“Do not.”
She pressed a gun beneath his chin.
“Place your hand there.”
I walked toward the console.
The transmitter in my collar clicked twice.
Police in position.
But Celeste must have heard it.
Her eyes shifted.
She fired at the ceiling.
Every light went out.
Gunshots erupted outside.
I dropped to the floor.
Derek shouted.
Someone grabbed my wrist.
A door slammed.
When emergency lights returned, Celeste was gone.
The brass key was gone.
Derek’s chair lay empty.
And Adrian stood in the center of the room holding Celeste’s gun.
He looked at me with an expression I could not read.
Then police entered and ordered him to drop it.
He did.
An officer searched his coat.
Inside was the blue ribbon.
I stared at him.
Adrian whispered, “Iris, this is not what it looks like.”
From the darkness above us, a speaker crackled.
May you like
Celeste’s recorded voice filled the mill.
“Ask Adrian who helped your father fake the first death certificate.”
