Chapter 6 - The Long Trail
For forty-eight hours, the city thought Miles Fletcher had lost his mind.
He stepped down temporarily as CEO, turning the daily operations over to his trusted COO. He ignored forty calls a day from the board of directors, turned his back on the media circus surrounding the "Fletcher Embezzlement Scandal," and transformed his private estate in the Hamptons into a high-tech war room.
Seated around his library table were Gabe—a legendary private security operative Miles had kept on retainer for a decade—and two top independent cyber-forensic analysts.
"The wire transfer came from inside Fletcher Tower, Boss," Gabe reported, tapping his tablet screen. "The IP address matches the third-floor terminal, but the security footage from Thursday night at 11:30 PM was scrubbed."
"Scrubbed by whom?" Miles asked, his gray eyes burning with sleepless intensity.
"By an admin override code belonging to Arthur Vance's personal secretary," Gabe revealed. "Vance used his secretary’s badge to swipe Diane’s stolen keycard, execute the transfer, and pin it on her."
"We have the digital fingerprint," the cyber analyst added. "Vance routed the money through a shell company called Apex Global—the exact same entity Mrs. Mercer was investigating."
Miles gripped the edge of the table. "We have the proof to clear her name. Now... where is she?"
"She turned off her phone, didn't use her credit cards, and took a greyhound bus out of Port Authority on Friday morning," Gabe said softly. "The trail goes cold in upstate New York."
Miles stood up, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gray, stormy ocean. He pulled out his personal phone, staring at the screen. He hadn't slept in two days. His chest felt hollow, terrified that she had vanished into the vastness of the country, back into the terrifying shadows of poverty.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed.
An unknown landline number flashed on the screen from a 607 area code—a rural region in northern New York.
Miles answered instantly. "Diane?!"
"Miles...?"
It wasn't Diane. It was a tiny, trembling voice whispering into a noisy phone receiver against the background sound of rain pounding on a tin roof.
"Meera?!" Miles gasped, his heart leaping into his throat. "Meera, sweetie, where are you?!"
"I'm at a big gas station with a glowing red star," Meera whispered, her voice tight with fear. "Mommy is in the bathroom crying. She doesn't know I used my quarter to call you from the wall phone."
"You are so brave, Meera," Miles said, his tone dropping into a warm, steady calm as he signaled Gabe to trace the landline location instantly. "Listen to me, sweetie. Is your mommy okay?"
"She's sad, Miles," Meera sniffled. "She said we can't go back to our nice apartment. She said we have to live in the old cabin where my grandma used to live. But I don't want to go to the cabin. I want to come home to you."
Miles closed his eyes, a hot tear slipping down his cheek. "You are coming home, Meera. I promise you on my life. Where is the gas station?"
"Near the big bridge where the yellow trees are," she said. "Miles... I'm wearing my white shoes. They got muddy, but I'm keeping them safe."
"Gabe! Got it?!" Miles shouted over his shoulder.
Gabe gave a sharp thumbs-up. "Payphone at a Texaco off Route 17 in Deposit, New York."
"Meera, stay right there," Miles commanded gently. "Tell your mommy that the nice shoe man is coming to pick you up, and nobody is ever going to hurt you again."
"Okay!" Meera whispered happily. "Hurry, Miles!"
May you like
The line went dead.
Miles threw on his heavy leather coat, grabbed his car keys, and looked at Gabe. "Get the legal team and the state police ready. We're ending this tonight."
