Breakfast with a Monster

The remote starter worked. The engine purred to life, a low, comforting hum in the dead of night. I didn't turn on the headlights. I didn't want to alert them until I was already moving.

I drove out of the parking lot, keeping my speed low. The dashboard clock read 3:55 AM. I had ten minutes to make the exchange.

Ten minutes to save Maya.

I knew where the cabin was. Richard had mentioned it once, years ago. "A family retreat," he had called it. "Up north, near the border." I had found the deed in the safe deposit box when I was looking for birth certificates. *Blackwood Lake.*

It was an hour away.

I couldn't make it.

I hit the steering wheel, frustration boiling over. I couldn't get to her in time.

But I could make them come to me.

I pulled over to the side of the road. I grabbed the tablet.

I logged back into the cloud server.

I selected the file marked *Ledger.pdf*.

And I hit *Send*.

Not to the police. Not to the press.

To Richard's email. And Simon's. And a generic contact form on the IRS website.

But I didn't send the whole file. Just the first ten pages.

And a message.

*I have the rest. And I have the hard copy. Meet me at the bridge. 4:30 AM. Bring Maya.*

I hit send.

Then I drove.

Not north. South. Back to the river. Back to where it all started.

I arrived at the bridge at 4:25. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating mist. The river was louder now, swollen with runoff, crashing against the stone pilings.

I parked the car in the middle of the bridge, blocking the road. I got out. I stood in the headlights, the tablet in one hand, the gun in the other.

I waited.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Then, headlights appeared in the distance.

A truck. The old Ford.

It stopped at the end of the bridge. Richard got out. He looked exhausted, defeated.

He walked toward me, his hands up.

"Helen," he said. "Please."

"Where is she?" I asked.

"She's safe," he said. "James called off the... the associate. She's at the cabin. Alone."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying!" he screamed. "I saw the email! You sent it to the IRS! It's over, Helen! It's all over!"

"It's not over until I see her."

"I can't bring her here," he said. "James... James won't let me."

"Then James can explain to the feds why his signature is on the withdrawal slips."

Richard froze. "His signature?"

"I read the ledger, Richard. James wasn't just the cleaner. He was the architect."

I took a step forward.

"He's the one who set up the accounts. He's the one who paid off the coroner. And he's the one who hired the hitman."

Richard shook his head. "No. That was Dad. Dad told me..."

"Dad told you what James wanted you to hear," I said. "James has been playing you all. He's been skimming from the skim. The ten million Sarah asked for? He only transferred five. He kept the rest."

Richard stared at me. The realization hit him like a physical blow. He staggered back, clutching the railing.

"He... he stole from us?"

"He stole from everyone," I said. "And now he's going to let you take the fall."

I held out the tablet.

"I can stop the rest of the upload, Richard. I can delete the schedule. But only if you bring me Maya."

He looked at the tablet. Then at me.

"I can't," he whispered. "He's watching."

"Who?"

"James."

A shot rang out.

It didn't come from me.

It came from the woods.

Richard jerked. A red flower bloomed on his chest. He looked down at it, confused.

Then he looked at me.

"Run," he gasped.

And he fell over the railing, into the black water below.