Chapter 6 - The Meeting Ryan Wanted

By noon, my children were at Mitch's house with my mother, two deputies had photographed the envelope left on Kelly's porch, and Erin was sitting across from a detective named Lena Ortiz in a conference room at the Edmond Police Department.

I sat three chairs away.

Dana sat beside me.

Mitch had been ordered to remain outside because, according to Dana, "one Mercer brother asking questions is enough."

Detective Ortiz placed the second phone on the table in an evidence bag.

"Mrs. Mercer, I need you to understand something before we continue."

Erin nodded.

"You're not here as a confidential informant. You're a potential witness, and some of your conduct may also be relevant to criminal offenses. I can't promise what a prosecutor will or won't do."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

Erin looked at me, then back at Ortiz.

"I moved money that wasn't mine alone. I gave Ryan access to documents. I let him into Grant's office. I know I may have broken laws."

Ortiz nodded.

"Good. We deal in accurate sentences."

Dana's mouth twitched. I suspected she liked the detective.

Ortiz continued.

"Ryan sent another message this morning."

"What did he say?" Erin asked.

Ortiz opened a printed screenshot.

"He wants to meet you."

I leaned forward.

"Absolutely not."

Dana put one finger on my sleeve.

"Listen."

Ortiz looked at me.

"Mr. Mercer, I understand your reaction. But this isn't your decision."

That irritated me because it was true.

I sat back.

Ortiz read the message.

Four p.m. Same place. Bring the signed statement. No Grant. No police. We finish this today.

Erin swallowed.

"What signed statement?"

"You tell me."

"I don't know."

"Did he ever ask you to sign something involving Grant's property?"

"He sent me an affidavit draft two weeks ago."

"Where is it?"

"On the second phone."

Ortiz nodded toward a digital-forensics technician behind the glass wall.

"We recovered it."

She slid a copy across the table.

I read it.

The affidavit claimed Erin had witnessed me sign an option agreement granting Red Plains Equipment the right to purchase twelve acres of Mercer Working Dogs for 1.4 million dollars.

I looked at her.

"You never saw me sign anything."

"No."

"Did you sign this?"

"No."

"Did you plan to?"

She stared at the paper.

"At one point, yes."

My chest tightened.

Dana said quietly, "Grant."

I kept my hands flat on the table.

"Why?"

Erin's voice shook.

"Ryan told me the option already existed and your signature was real. He said you were hiding the sale because you planned to leave me with nothing. He said my affidavit would just confirm something that had already happened."

"And you believed him."

"I wanted to."

That answer was worse than claiming she had been fooled completely.

"Why?"

"Because I was angry. Because I felt invisible. Because he kept telling me every late night at the kennel meant you had chosen your work over us."

"So you chose him."

She looked at me.

"Yes."

The room went quiet.

Ortiz gave us exactly three seconds.

Then she pulled the conversation back to facts.

"Where is 'same place'?"

Erin answered.

"A furnished office Ryan rents near Memorial Road."

"Address?"

She gave it.

Ortiz wrote it down.

"If we ask you to communicate with Ryan while we monitor, are you willing?"

Erin looked at Dana.

Dana said, "I'm not her lawyer. She needs independent counsel before making agreements that affect her exposure."

Ortiz nodded.

"Correct. We have not asked for an agreement yet."

Erin looked at me.

"I want to help."

I almost said, You already helped.

I did not.

"Then get your own lawyer and tell the truth."

She nodded.

Within an hour, Kelly had found Erin an attorney named Priya Shah. Priya arrived, read the relevant reports, spoke privately with Erin, and returned with a list of conditions longer than the one I used for police-dog contracts.

Eventually a plan formed.

Erin would text Ryan from the second phone under supervision.

She would not meet him alone.

Officers would control the location.

Nobody promised an arrest.

Nobody promised safety beyond reasonable measures.

Most importantly, Erin could stop at any time.

Ortiz pushed the phone toward her.

"What would you normally say?"

Erin stared at the screen.

"He'll know something is wrong if I sound too formal."

"Then don't."

She typed.

I can come. Grant found more than I expected. He's talking to lawyers.

Ryan answered within a minute.

Did he find Henry's letter?

Erin looked at Ortiz.

"He already knows."

"Ask how."

She typed.

How do you know about the letter?

Ryan:

Because I know what was in the garage before Grant did.

My hands curled under the table.

Erin wrote:

What do you want me to bring?

Ryan:

Affidavit. Signed. Also Grant's original LLC book if you can get it.

Ortiz whispered, "Ask why."

Erin typed:

Why the company book?

The reply took longer.

Because Clay won't move unless chain of title is clean.

There it was.

Clay.

Not rumor.

Not an old photograph.

A current instruction.

Erin wrote:

I thought this was your deal.

Ryan:

Don't start. You wanted out. I gave you a way out.

Erin's eyes filled.

She typed:

You told me the land issue was real.

Ryan:

It is real if we make it real enough.

Dana slowly exhaled.

Ortiz said, "That's useful."

I stared at the screen.

Ryan continued.

Grant never understood his father. Henry survived because Clay let him survive. Now Grant can sell and keep his pretty little dog business somewhere else.

Erin typed:

And the custody stuff?

No immediate answer.

Then:

Insurance.

She looked at me.

I did not move.

Erin wrote:

Against what?

Ryan:

Against Grant behaving like Grant.

My anger became strangely distant.

He wanted it.

Every insult was a hook.

I had spent years teaching handlers not to reward the behavior they claimed to hate.

Ryan wanted rage.

I would give him paperwork.

Erin typed:

Why pictures of Tessa?

This time Ryan responded immediately.

I told you not to ask questions you don't need answers to.

Ortiz pointed.

"Push once."

Erin wrote:

She's my daughter. I need the answer.

Ryan:

Then remember what happens when Grant thinks somebody threatens his kids. He stops thinking about land.

The room went silent.

It was not a confession to taking the photographs.

It was close enough to make my skin crawl.

Erin typed:

Where do I meet you?

Ryan sent the office address.

Four p.m.

Ortiz stood.

"We're done for now."

I looked at Erin.

"You're not going into that office."

Ortiz said, "She may enter a controlled adjacent space. That's our call."

"You know what I mean."

Erin touched my arm.

I pulled away before I could think about it.

Her hand dropped.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Not now."

At three forty-five, officers were positioned around the small office complex. Erin wore a recording device under her sweater. I sat in an unmarked van two buildings away because Ortiz had correctly decided I should not be visible.

Dana sat beside me.

"You hate this," she said.

"Yes."

"Good. If you enjoyed surveillance vans, I'd reconsider representing you."

I watched the monitor.

At 3:58, a silver sedan entered the lot.

Erin leaned toward the screen in the other vehicle.

"That's Ryan's rental."

A man stepped out.

Ryan Vale.

I had seen photos, cloud thumbnails, old images with my father.

Seeing him move was different.

He was tall, lean, dressed in a dark overcoat. A white bandage wrapped his left palm, likely explaining the blood in the abandoned truck.

He looked around twice.

Then he entered the building.

Ortiz's voice came over the radio.

"Hold positions."

Erin was instructed to wait thirty seconds before moving from the police vehicle to the controlled hallway.

Then Ryan came back out.

Too fast.

He was carrying nothing.

He walked toward the silver sedan.

Ortiz said, "Something spooked him."

An officer moved at the far end of the lot.

Ryan saw him.

He ran.

Not toward the car.

Toward the rear service alley.

Two officers pursued.

I stood.

Dana grabbed my coat.

"Sit down."

"He's getting away."

"You are not a police officer."

"I can run."

"Congratulations. Sit."

I stayed.

It was one of the hardest useful things I had done in my life.

Three minutes later, the radio cracked.

"Suspect detained."

I sat back.

Dana released my coat.

"See? Civilization."

"I'm not enjoying your personality today."

"You don't pay me for charm."

Ryan was brought around the side of the building in handcuffs.

He had a scrape on his cheek and grass on one knee.

He looked toward the surveillance van even though the windows were dark.

For a second, I thought he could see me.

Then he smiled.

Tessa had been right.

He smiled when he was angry.

Officers searched him.

Wallet.

Keys.

A prepaid phone.

A USB drive.

And a folded sheet of paper.

Ortiz opened it with gloved hands.

Even through the monitor, I recognized my own forged signature.

At the top was a purchase agreement between Red Plains Equipment and Northline Communities.

Purchase price:

$5,760,000.

Dana leaned toward the screen.

"There it is."

But underneath the purchase price was another line.

Consulting fee payable at closing:

Clayton Barlow - $900,000.

Acquisition services:

Ryan Vale - $460,000.

I stared at the numbers.

Forty-two thousand dollars had nearly turned into more than a million for the men manipulating my family.

Ryan was put into a cruiser.

Before the door closed, he said something to Detective Ortiz.

She leaned closer.

He repeated it.

Ortiz's expression changed.

Five minutes later, she came to the van.

"He lawyered up," she said.

"Good."

"Before that, he gave one voluntary statement."

"What?"

Ortiz looked at me.

"He said Clay Barlow isn't working for Northline."

Dana frowned.

"The filing says consultant."

"Ryan says Clay controls the shell company that assembled the neighboring parcels."

"So Northline is the buyer, but Clay created the need?"

"Possibly."

I said, "Why tell us?"

Ortiz held up a small evidence bag containing the USB drive.

"Because Ryan thinks Clay is going to kill him if he gets out."

My first reaction was disbelief.

My second was remembering the abandoned truck, the blood, the panic.

"Does he have proof?"

"He says it's on this drive."

"Can you open it?"

"Not here."

She paused.

"He also said something about your wife."

I looked toward Erin's vehicle.

"What?"

"He says Erin was never supposed to get custody."

My stomach tightened.

"Then what were the custody notes for?"

Ortiz's voice went flat.

"According to Ryan, they were supposed to make you believe that was the threat."

"What was the real threat?"

She looked at the evidence bag.

"The real plan was to force a sale before you discovered the forged option. The divorce was cover."

I stared at her.

"And Erin?"

"Ryan says Clay planned to leave her holding the financial trail."

Across the parking lot, Erin stood beside Priya with her arms wrapped around herself.

For seven months she had betrayed me.

For seven months she had also been walking deeper into a trap built by men who had known exactly which resentments to feed.

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Both things could be true.

That was the part I hated most.