Chapter 23 - The Ghost in the Ledger
The heavy knocking echoed through the timber house like a death knell. Nora stood frozen, her eyes darting between the glossy photos scattered on the wooden table and Liam’s pale, anguish-contorted face.
Liam gently pushed Nora behind him, stepping toward the door. He unlocked it and pulled it open just an inch, his shoulders broad, blocking the view into the living room.
Two men stood on the snowy porch. The taller one, wearing a sharp grey overcoat and a fedora dusted with snow, held out a gold badge. "Liam Vance? I’m Special Agent Victor Cross, Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Agent Ramirez. We need to ask you a few questions regarding the reopening of the Daniel Mercer homicide investigation."
The name Daniel Mercer hung in the icy air. Mercer had been Liam’s former hedge-fund partner—the man who had orchestrated the Syndicate’s money-laundering empire and who had mysteriously died in a warehouse fire five years ago.
"I’ve already given my testimony two years ago, Agent Cross," Liam said, his voice clipped and low. "I was cleared. I have nothing more to say without my attorney."
"That was before four million dollars magically moved from a seized Swiss account into an offshore entity under your name three days ago, Mr. Vance," Cross replied, a tight, merciless smile touching his lips. "And before a witness came forward claiming you were seen in Chicago the night before the fire."
Behind Liam, Nora let out a soft, sharp intake of breath. Agent Cross’s eyes flicked over Liam’s shoulder, catching sight of Nora standing near the fireplace, clutching her shawl.
"We aren't arresting you today, Mr. Vance," Cross continued softly, stepping back into the light snow. "Not yet. But you are strictly restricted from leaving Leelanau County. And if I were you, I wouldn't trust the white snow to hide black money for long."
When the SUV drove away, the heavy timber door shut with a hollow thud. Silence stretched between Liam and Nora, heavy and suffocating.
"Liam..." Nora spoke, her voice dangerously calm, devoid of the emotion that had flamed earlier. "Did you go to Chicago five years ago before the fire? Tell me the truth. No more evasions. No more 'protecting me'."
Liam locked eyes with her, his jaw clenching. "I went to Chicago that night to stop Mercer from destroying the evidence that proved my innocence. When I arrived, the building was already engulfed in flames. I tried to pull him out, Nora. I failed. I ran because I knew how it would look."
"And the four million dollars?" she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.
"I don't have that money, Nora! Someone is framing me. They want me isolated. They want you to turn against me."
Nora’s mother stepped out of the hallway, holding a worn black notebook—a ledger she had found in the attic space while cleaning last week, left behind by the house's previous owner, who turned out to be Dr. Arthur Pendelton's late brother.
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"Nora... Liam..." the older woman’s hands trembled as she held up the ledger. "Arthur didn't give us this house out of charity. Look at these entries from five years ago. Arthur was Mercer’s personal physician."
Liam took the ledger, his blood turning to liquid ice as he flipped through the pages. The handwriting matched the medical notes Arthur had given Nora for her mother’s care.
