Chapter 7 - The Scapegoat's Price
The news spread across the tri-state area like wildfire. By noon on Day Seven, Victor Hale’s face was plastered across the front page of the *New York Post*: **THE HALE OF SHAME: Manhattan Tycoon Accused of Multi-Million Dollar Customs Fraud, Smuggling.**
The press didn't spare my family either. They published pictures of Daniel in handcuffs, wearing an oversized gray county jumpsuit, being led into the federal courthouse in Newark with his head bowed to his chest. The boy who had sneered at me from my parents' dining room while our father commanded me to return to my abuser looked no older than twelve, utterly broken, crying openly into the camera flashes.
At three in the afternoon, my burner phone rang again. This time it was a number I didn't recognize, bearing an 856 area code.
I answered.
"Anna?"
It was Daniel. The call was preceded by an automated operator announcing an inmate communication from the Essex County Correctional Facility.
His voice was barely a squeak. "Anna... please don't hang up. Please."
I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cold glass of the cabin window. Outside, a hawk circled lazily above the snow-laden pines. "I’m here, Daniel."
"They're going to put me away, Anna," he wept, the tough-guy facade completely dissolved into childlike panic. "The federal marshals... they told me Victor’s lawyers submitted emails showing I signed off on the manifests. But Victor told me they were just delivery receipts! I swear to God, Anna, I didn't know what was in those containers! I thought it was car parts! I didn't know!"
"You didn't ask questions because he gave you a BMW, Daniel," I said, my voice heavy with grief. "You didn't ask questions because he paid you thousands of dollars a week to be his fool."
"I know! I was stupid! I’m so sorry, Anna, I’m so sorry about Christmas Eve!" he bawled, the sound echoing off the cinderblock walls of the prison holding cell. "I wanted to say something, I swear I did! But Dad told me that if you left Victor, Victor would cut the funding for my division. Dad said we’d all lose everything if you didn't stay with him! Dad told me to shut my mouth!"
A cold dread trickled down my spine. "Dad told you that *before* I arrived?"
There was a long pause on the line. Daniel’s breath hitched.
"Dad knew Victor was hitting you," Daniel whispered, the confession tumbling out like spilled poison. "Two months ago, Victor called Dad. Victor was furious because you threatened to call the police after he threw you down the stairs in the basement. Victor told Dad: *'Control your daughter, or I pull the mortgage on the Ridgewood house and hand Daniel’s files to the feds.'* Dad promised him he’d keep you in line. That’s why he was so angry on Christmas Eve, Anna. He wasn't surprised by your bruises. He was terrified that you had finally disobeyed him."
The world beneath my feet turned to hollow ash.
My father hadn't just reacted out of greed when I arrived on Christmas Eve. It was premeditated. He had known Victor was escalating. He had known my life was in imminent danger. And he had stood in that kitchen, watched me bleed, and ordered me back into the jaws of the beast to save his own skin.
"Anna? Are you there?" Daniel cried out, hearing my silence. "The public defender says if I testify against Victor, if I provide his personal text messages, they might give me probation. But the prosecutor wants corroborating evidence from inside Victor’s private office. In the safe behind the library bookcase. Anna... you’re the only one who has the combination."
I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white.
"Where is Victor now?" I asked.
May you like
"He posted five million dollars cash bail an hour ago," Daniel whispered in terror. "He’s out, Anna. He’s back at the Greenwich house. And he’s hunting for you."
***
