Chapter 7 - THE BACKPACK
My hands shook so violently I could barely keep the steering wheel straight.
Maria Rivera sat in the passenger seat, weeping into her hands.
“My son,” she cried. “Where is Mateo?”
“He’s safe,” I promised her. “He’s with my son and a friend.”
I looked in the rearview mirror.
Plumes of thick black smoke were rising from the industrial district.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Firetrucks were on their way.
I drove us to Angela’s apartment building.
When I unlocked the door, Mateo ran across the room and threw himself into his mother’s arms.
“Mama!”
Maria collapsed to her knees, holding her boy so tightly I thought she might never let him go.
Caleb walked over and hugged my waist.
“You did it, Mom,” he whispered.
“Not yet, buddy,” I said.
I looked at the black leather ledger in my hand.
I had burned the first ten pages to create a distraction.
But there were fifty more pages.
Pages that detailed every family Pritchard had targeted. Every fire he had started. Every dollar Vance and Robert Henderson had stolen.
I set the book on Angela’s kitchen table.
“We have to take this to the police,” Angela said.
“No,” I said. “The local precinct let Robert walk out the front door. Pritchard has someone on his payroll there.”
“Then who do we take it to?” Maria asked, wiping her tears.
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
It was the state police number I had told Angela to call if I didn't come back.
I answered it.
“Jennifer Miller?” a stern female voice asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Sarah Lawson with the Indiana State Police. We received a disturbing report from a woman named Patricia Pritchard.”
I froze. “Patricia called you?”
“She walked into our field office twenty minutes ago. She handed over a duplicate flash drive containing attendance records and arson targets.”
The final reversal.
Patricia hadn't just given me the book to save herself.
She had given me the book to distract her husband, while she went directly to the state authorities.
The rosary she had been holding wasn't just a comfort. It was a sign she was finally ready to confess.
“Mrs. Miller, Patricia says you have the physical ledger that proves the financial ties to Rivera Property Management.”
“I have it,” I said.
“Where are you?”
I gave her Angela’s address.
“Stay there. Do not open the door for anyone but me. I’m sending a tactical team to the warehouse district right now.”
I hung up the phone.
May you like
I looked at Caleb, Mateo, Maria, and Angela.
“It’s over,” I whispered.
