Olivia looked at her seriously. “Let me do my job.”
The old woman clutched the photograph she held against her chest. It was Leonard at eight years old, smiling with missing front teeth. “I’ve spent twenty-seven years letting others do their job while they explained to me why my husband disappeared. I will never wait around sitting down again.”
The detective didn’t argue. She requested an urgent warrant.
Meanwhile, they reviewed the documents that had fallen from Veronica’s purse. There were passports. Plane tickets for that very night. A deed of sale. And a power of attorney supposedly signed by Leonard three days before his death. The document transferred his shares in the construction firm to a company called Pinnacle Development.
The signature looked correct. But Mrs. Clara noticed something. “My son never signs just Leonard Vance.”
“How does he sign?” Olivia asked.
“Leonard B. Vance.”
“What does the B stand for?”
“Benjamin.”
Veronica stopped faking her serenity. “I didn’t prepare that document.”
Lawrence turned to her. “Shut up.”
That was enough. The detective separated the two.
By noon they obtained the warrant to search the hospital construction site. Mrs. Clara insisted on accompanying them. Olivia refused. “There might be armed men.”
“Then I’ll stay outside.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“It’s more dangerous to let them disappear my son again.”
The convoy left the cemetery. Mrs. Clara got into a patrol car. The site was forty minutes away. The construction had been suspended almost a year ago due to budget irregularities. From the highway, you could see bare columns, piles of rebar, and tarps torn by the wind.
The main gate was locked. The officers entered through the side. They found two trucks. One still had a warm engine. In a guard shack, there was food, medication, and a logbook with guard shifts.
In the basement, they discovered a metal door. Behind it was Leonard. His hands were tied. A cut on his eyebrow. An overgrown beard. And a dirty bandage around his abdomen.
When they brought him out, Mrs. Clara ran toward him. This time no one managed to stop her.
“Mom.”
She hugged him so tightly that Leonard let out a groan.
“Forgive me, my son.”
“For what?”
“For being late.”
Leonard rested his head on her shoulder. “You got here before they buried me.”
Paramedics loaded him into an ambulance. He had been held hostage for nine days. They drugged him to force him to sign. When he refused, they beat him. Veronica showed up every night. Sometimes she begged. Sometimes she threatened.
“She said everything would be easier if I agreed to sell,” he recounted hours later in the hospital. “That we could leave the country and start over.”
“Why did they fake your death?”
“Because they needed to trigger a clause in the partnership agreement. If I died, my shares temporarily passed to Veronica.”
Mrs. Clara felt a sharp pang. “And your father?”
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