Chapter 4 - The Man Jared Was Working For
The next morning, Adrian tried to send me away.
Not from the house.
From the investigation.
“You're too close to this.”
I stared across the breakfast counter.
“You're kidding.”
“No.”
“Someone stole my identity, compromised my workplace, manipulated my ex-boyfriend, staged our meeting, photographed us and threatened me.”
“Yes.”
“And your solution is for me to go watch television?”
“My solution is to let professionals handle it.”
“You mean your professionals.”
“Yes.”
“At least you're consistent.”
He pushed a cup of coffee toward me.
I ignored it.
“What aren't you telling me?”
His eyes lifted.
“Nothing.”
“That's not true.”
“Why?”
“Because when the voice said Phase Two, you recognized something.”
Adrian looked toward the lake.
There.
That tiny delay.
People lied with words.
Bodies were more reliable.
“Who is behind this?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
“But you suspect someone.”
Silence.
“Adrian.”
He finally sat across from me.
“Eleven years ago, my father had a business partner.”
Here it came.
“Gabriel Mercer.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“They built Varga Maritime together?”
“Parts of it.”
“What happened?”
“Mercer believed information was more valuable than freight. Customer manifests. routes. contracts. negotiations. Private correspondence.”
“He sold data?”
“Yes.”
“My father found out?”
“And forced him out.”
“What happened to Mercer?”
“He disappeared.”
“Disappeared as in—”
“Moved overseas.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You have to admit the way you talk invites misunderstanding.”
“I've been told.”
“By people still alive?”
That almost-smile.
“Several.”
Mercer had spent the next decade building a network of shell companies.
Norcross Exchange was one of them.
Adrian had suspected it for years but never managed to prove Mercer controlled it.
“And Thomas Reed?” I asked.
“Mercer's man?”
“Possibly.”
“Jared?”
“Useful.”
I hated that word.
Because it fit.
Jared had always thought he was the smartest person in every room.
Maybe someone smarter had simply convinced him he was in control.
By noon, Northline had formally placed Thomas Reed on administrative leave.
At 12:17, he disappeared.
His company phone was found in a parking garage.
His apartment had been emptied.
His passport was gone.
At 1:05, Emily Ross finally told investigators the truth.
She had been paid to copy badge-access records.
She believed she was helping Jared conduct a private cybersecurity audit.
She had photographed my apartment door because Jared said he needed proof that a “test subject” still lived at the registered address.
She had no idea I was the subject.
No idea Jared was my ex.
No idea about the container.
Her trip to Antwerp had been sold to her as a paid training assignment.
Stupid?
Yes.
Criminal?
Possibly.
Part of the mastermind?
No.
That left Jared.
And Mercer.
At 2:40, Jared called me.
Not unknown.
His actual number.
I stared at the screen.
Adrian stood across the room.
“Don't.”
“I need to know what he knows.”
“You don't owe him access to you.”
The words hit harder than he intended.
For years, Jared had treated access to me as a right.
My location.
My passwords.
My emotions.
My attention.
Adrian had just reframed the entire thing in one sentence.
I answered.
But I put it on speaker.
“Khloe.”
Jared sounded exhausted.
“Where are you?”
“No.”
“What?”
“You don't get to ask me that.”
“Khloe, listen. This got bigger than I expected.”
Adrian's face hardened.
Expected.
Confirmation.
“What did you expect?” I asked.
“I thought it was corporate espionage.”
“You stole my badge.”
Silence.
“I borrowed it.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
“You stole my badge and used my credentials.”
“I didn't use them.”
“Who did?”
“Reed.”
Thomas.
“Why?”
“To move a container.”
“You knew.”
“I knew it was electronics.”
“Whose?”
“I don't know.”
“What did Mercer promise you?”
Silence.
Adrian looked at me sharply.
Jared whispered, “How do you know that name?”
Got him.
“I know enough.”
“No, you don't.”
“Then explain it.”
Jared breathed heavily.
“He said Varga ruined his life.”
Adrian didn't react.
“He said Adrian's father stole the company.”
“Did you believe him?”
“It didn't matter.”
Of course.
Money.
Ego.
Opportunity.
“What did you get?”
“Five percent.”
“Of what?”
“Every diverted shipment.”
My stomach twisted.
“How long?”
“Eleven months.”
“You used my company for eleven months?”
“Khloe—”
“How long?”
“Eleven months.”
I closed my eyes.
He had been sleeping beside me while he built access through my workplace.
Had every question been intelligence gathering?
Every dinner conversation?
Every time he'd asked about my day?
Jared seemed to hear what I was thinking.
“It wasn't like that at first.”
Of course he said that.
“Where are you?”
“No.”
“I can give you Mercer.”
Adrian stepped closer.
I asked, “Why would you?”
“Because he changed the deal.”
“How?”
“He's going to make it look like I did everything.”
A petty part of me almost admired the symmetry.
Jared had framed me.
Mercer was framing Jared.
Predators rarely imagine becoming prey.
“What do you have?”
“The drive.”
The hard drive.
My suspicion had been right.
“What is on it?”
“Payments. Shipping records. Messages from Reed. Instructions from Mercer.”
“Where?”
“I'll give it to you.”
“Send it.”
“No.”
“Then we're done.”
“Khloe!”
I moved to hang up.
“Wait.”
His voice cracked.
For the first time in years, I heard genuine fear.
“He knows about your sister.”
I froze.
Adrian saw it.
My younger sister, Mia, lived in Portland.
Different last name after marriage.
Almost nobody at Northline knew about her.
“What does that mean?”
“Mercer's file has family information.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
I heard the lie.
“Jared.”
“I gave him some things before I understood what he was doing.”
Rage replaced fear.
“What things?”
“Old records. Contacts. Your emergency forms.”
“You gave a criminal network information about my family?”
“I didn't know!”
“You never know, Jared. That's your favorite excuse after you hurt someone.”
He went silent.
Then:
“I can fix this.”
“No.”
“I can.”
“You don't fix things. You rename what you did.”
Adrian looked at me, and something in his expression changed.
Respect.
Not pity.
That mattered.
I asked Jared one final question.
“Where's the drive?”
He gave me an address.
An abandoned coworking building near the waterfront.
“Tonight. Nine.”
“No.”
“Khloe—”
“If you want protection, give it to the police.”
“I can't trust them.”
“Then you've run out of people.”
I disconnected.
Adrian immediately called Mateo.
But before he spoke, my phone vibrated.
A message from Jared.
A photograph.
The hard drive sitting on a table beside a handwritten note.
9 PM. COME ALONE OR I DESTROY IT.
Then another photograph loaded.
This one wasn't from Jared.
Mia.
My sister.
Walking out of a Portland grocery store that morning.
The message underneath contained five words.
Jared isn't the only problem.
I showed Adrian.
His expression hardened.
“I'm calling Portland police.”
I nodded.
Then a third message arrived.
A live photograph.
Jared standing in the coworking building.
He wasn't alone.
Behind him stood Thomas Reed.
And beside Thomas was an older man in an immaculate navy suit.
Silver hair.
Cold smile.
Adrian looked at the photograph.
Every trace of color disappeared from his face.
“Gabriel Mercer.”
For eleven years, Mercer had been a ghost.
May you like
Now he was standing twenty minutes away.
Waiting for me.
