Chapter 3 - MASON CALLED BEFORE THE POLICE CALLED HIMAt 7:06 the next morning, Mason called Wade.
Wade watched the phone vibrate.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Lena had already warned him.
“Do not confront him.”
So Wade waited until the fifth ring.
Then answered.
“Morning.”
Mason sounded worried.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Home.”
“I heard something happened.”
Wade’s eyes narrowed.
“What did you hear?”
Pause.
“Biker group chat.”
“There’s already a group chat?”
“Wade, come on. Half Cleveland knows when a cop sneezes.”
Wade said nothing.
Mason continued.
“They said you got jumped.”
“Almost.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
Wade leaned against the counter.
“Woman on the road.”
“What woman?”
“Pretended she needed help.”
Mason was silent.
Wade listened carefully.
Then Mason asked:
“Pregnant?”
There.
Wade stared at the wall.
Police had released nothing.
The other riders could possibly have heard rumors.
But the fake pregnancy detail had not been shared outside investigators.
“Why would you think pregnant?”
Mason recovered quickly.
“I don’t know. Someone posted something.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t memorize it.”
“Send me the post.”
Another pause.
“Why are you interrogating me?”
Wade almost smiled.
“Habit.”
Mason laughed weakly.
“You scared me.”
“Did I?”
“Of course.”
Wade waited.
Then Mason asked:
“They take anything?”
There it was again.
Not “did they hurt you?”
Not “did you see them?”
Anything.
“No.”
“Phone?”
Wade felt something hard settle in his chest.
“Why my phone?”
“I’m asking.”
“You asked one item.”
“Jesus, Wade.”
Mason sounded annoyed now.
“Forget it.”
Wade remained silent.
Mason shifted again.
“Look, come by the garage. Coffee. We’ll talk.”
“Busy.”
“With what?”
“My job.”
Mason laughed.
“Right.”
Wade ended the call.
Thirty seconds later he forwarded the key statements to Lena.
Her reply:
Do not text him again.
Wade drove to headquarters.
Digital forensics had made progress.
Kara’s phone was a low-cost burner, but it had not been wiped.
Most messages used an encrypted app.
Some notification logs remained.
Names:
MASON.
DARNELL.
VIC.
LEON.
Several location pins.
One image cached locally.
Wade’s motorcycle.
Taken outside Mason’s garage three days earlier.
His license plate visible.
Wade stared.
Lena stood beside him.
“Still questions?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yes.”
They enlarged the image.
Timestamp.
Sunday afternoon.
Wade had been at Mason’s garage after the fundraiser.
He remembered leaving his bike outside while volunteers loaded tables.
Someone photographed it.
Another cached image appeared.
Wade entering his apartment building.
Different day.
Different location.
Someone had followed him.
Lena crossed her arms.
“This was planned.”
“Yeah.”
“Your friend?”
Wade looked at her.
“We need more.”
“Agreed.”
They searched department databases for Darnell.
Darnell Pike.
Thirty-four.
Assault history.
Vehicle theft.
Robbery charges dismissed six years earlier when a witness failed to appear.
Wade recognized the face.
Not personally.
But he recognized the case.
Darnell’s older brother Marcus had been convicted eight years ago after Wade testified in an aggravated robbery investigation.
That might explain Darnell recognizing Wade’s name.
Or it might not.
“Connection to Mason?” Lena asked.
“Search businesses.”
Within an hour they found one.
Darnell had worked briefly at Drake Customs—the motorcycle garage Mason owned—four years earlier.
Employment listed for seven months.
Wade stared.
Mason never mentioned it.
Lena looked at him.
“That enough?”
“For suspicion.”
“Good.”
“Not enough for an arrest.”
“You really are irritating when you’re professional.”
Wade almost smiled.
Then the missing-person unit called.
They had reviewed Raymond Kessler’s disappearance again after seeing Wade’s report.
A detail stood out.
Raymond’s daughter had received his final text at 9:43 p.m.
Helping someone on Ridge Road. Call you when I’m home.
Investigators originally assumed mechanical trouble.
No mention of a woman.
No mention of pregnancy.
But Raymond’s route that night passed within four miles of where Wade had been ambushed.
Same kind of isolated road.
Same general corridor.
Lena said:
“We need the daughter.”
Erin Kessler arrived that afternoon.
Thirty-one.
Teacher.
Exhausted in the way people became after months without answers.
She carried a folder.
“My dad kept copies of everything.”
Wade felt guilt immediately.
“He emailed me before he disappeared.”
Erin looked at him.
“I know.”
Wade froze.
“How?”
“He told me.”
Wade swallowed.
“I never called.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Erin stared at him for several seconds.
“I was angry about that.”
“You should be.”
Her expression softened slightly.
“Then I saw the news about last night.”
“What news?”
“A biker posted that a woman tried to stop someone on a road.”
Wade and Lena exchanged glances.
Erin continued.
“My father mentioned a woman that night.”
Wade sat straighter.
“When?”
“He called me before the final text.”
“What did he say?”
Erin opened her phone.
“I saved his voicemail.”
She pressed play.
Raymond’s voice filled the room.
“Hey, sweetheart. Running late. There’s a pregnant girl walking along the road. I’m going to see if she needs help. Don’t worry. I’ll call when I’m moving again.”
Silence.
Wade felt cold.
Same trap.
Seven months earlier.
Erin looked at him.
“Was your woman pregnant too?”
Wade answered carefully.
“She appeared to be.”
Erin’s eyes filled.
“Then they did this to him.”
“We don’t know yet.”
“You know enough.”
Wade couldn’t argue.
Erin opened the folder.
Her father’s charity records.
At the top was a handwritten note.
MASON — $212,000 DOES NOT MATCH DEPOSITS.
Wade stopped breathing.
His forty-eight thousand dollars was not the beginning.
May you like
Raymond had discovered more than two hundred thousand missing before he disappeared.
And Mason had known he was looking.
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