Chapter 9 - The Offer
The next forty-eight hours were a blur of police reports, news cameras, and paramedics.
The shootout at the Carter house was the biggest thing to happen in our small Ohio county since… well, since Jacob’s “death” ten years earlier. The local news was camped on our lawn. The state police had been called in. The FBI was even sniffing around — twelve armed men attacking a private residence in broad daylight tended to get federal attention.
We’d moved into Tyler’s house. It was bigger, newer, with a security system and a high fence and enough off-duty cops surrounding it to start a small army. Leo was thrilled — he got to play with Tyler’s dog, sleep in the guest room with the race car sheets, and tell anyone who’d listen about how his mom had shot the bad guys. He was handling it better than the rest of us.
The rest of us were a mess.
My father had been questioned for twelve hours straight by the state police. He’d told them some of the truth — about Victor Voss, about the threats, about the attack. But he’d left out the warehouse, the girls, the three million dollars. He was still protecting his secrets. Still protecting us. Or so he said.
Jacob had been questioned too. He’d told them his name was Jake Harrison, a contractor from Oregon, just passing through town to visit old friends. They’d checked his ID — the fake one my father had given him ten years ago had been renewed twice, perfectly legitimate — and let him go. But I saw the way the lead detective looked at him. Like he knew. Like he was just waiting for Jacob to slip up.
On the third night, after Leo was asleep, we all gathered in Tyler’s living room. The doors were locked. The curtains were drawn. The guns were still within easy reach.
“We can’t keep doing this,” Tyler said, pacing the floor. “Every day we stay here, every day we keep lying to the police, Victor gets stronger. He’s got money. He’s got power. He’s got half the county on his payroll. We can’t outfight him forever. Sooner or later, someone’s going to get killed. And next time, it might not be some nameless goon. It might be one of us.”
He looked at my father.
“We need to go to the FBI,” he said. “Tell them everything. The warehouse. The girls. The money. All of it. Witness protection. New identities. A fresh start. It’s the only way.”
“Absolutely not,” my father said. “If we go to the feds, I go to prison. For twenty years. Maybe life. I’m sixty-two years old, Tyler. I’ll die in there. And what about the rest of you? Victor’s reach goes far beyond Ohio. You think witness protection is bulletproof? I’ve seen what happens to people who testify against men like Voss. They get found. They get killed. Slowly.”
“Then what do you suggest, Dad?” I said. My voice was sharper than I intended. “Keep fighting a war we can’t win? Hide in this house forever? Let Leo grow up surrounded by armed guards, never knowing a normal life? Is that what you want for him?”
Before he could answer, the doorbell rang.
We all froze.
Jacob was on his feet in a second, pistol in hand, moving silently toward the door. Tyler grabbed the rifle from the couch. My mother herded us toward the kitchen, where we’d be out of the line of fire.
Jacob peered through the peephole.
He stepped back, frowning.
“It’s a lawyer,” he said. “Says his name is Richard Wells. Says he represents Victor Voss. Says he has an offer.”
My father’s face went dark. “Send him away.”
“Wait,” I said. “Let him in. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Emma, are you crazy?” Tyler said. “This man works for the devil.”
“Which means he knows what the devil wants,” I said. “Knowledge is power, Tyler. Let’s find out what Victor’s offering. It can’t be worse than what we already have.”
Nobody argued.
Jacob unlocked the door, keeping the pistol hidden behind his back. He stepped aside to let the man in.
Richard Wells was in his sixties, sharp as a tack, wearing a three-thousand-dollar suit and carrying a leather briefcase. He looked around the room — at the armed men, at the tense faces — and smiled. A cold, professional smile.
“Good evening,” he said, setting his briefcase on the coffee table. “I apologize for the intrusion. I know this is a difficult time for your family. But Mr. Voss sent me to propose a solution to our… mutual difficulties. One that benefits everyone.”
“Get to the point,” my father growled.
Wells opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. He laid them on the table one by one.
“First,” he said, “Mr. Voss is willing to sign a full, binding release. No more threats. No more men with guns. No more watching your houses or your children. He will leave every single member of your family completely alone. Forever. In exchange —”
He slid a single sheet of paper across the table toward my father.
“— the return of the three million dollars Mr. Carter took ten years ago. In full. No interest. No penalties. Just the principal.”
My father stared at the paper but didn’t touch it.
“That’s it?” Tyler said, skeptical. “Three million bucks and he just walks away? After everything he’s done? After sending twelve men to kill us all?”
Wells smiled. “Mr. Voss is a businessman, Mr. Carter. He values his privacy. He values his reputation. This… unpleasantness has drawn far too much attention already. The FBI is asking questions. The state police are digging into old cases. Mr. Voss would like to make it all go away. Quietly. The money is… incidental. He simply wants what was his returned to him. And he wants Jacob Hale.”
The room went cold.
“Jacob Hale,” Wells repeated, looking directly at Jacob. “Mr. Voss still has some… unresolved business with Mr. Hale. Concerning certain events of ten years ago. In exchange for Mr. Hale voluntarily accompanying me back to Mr. Voss’s estate this evening… the deal stands. Everyone goes free. Everyone lives.”
Jacob laughed. A short, bitter sound.
“You expect me to just walk out there with you?” he said. “To let Victor Voss do God knows what to me? And you think my family’s just going to let that happen?”
Wells shrugged. “Mr. Voss is a reasonable man. He understands Mr. Hale has concerns. So he’s prepared to sweeten the pot.”
He pulled another paper from his briefcase. This one was thicker. Official-looking.
“Full immunity,” he said, sliding it across the table. “Signed by the district attorney himself. For everyone. Arthur Carter — all crimes related to the warehouse, the theft, the staging of Mr. Hale’s death — completely dismissed. No prison. No record. Tyler Carter — his position at the fire department, his pension, everything — secure. Emma Carter — no charges for the shooting of Mr. Voss’s employees. Self-defense, open and shut. Even young Leo — a trust fund, five million dollars, waiting for him on his eighteenth birthday. College. A house. Whatever he wants.”
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
“All you have to do,” he said, “is give us the money. And give us Jacob. And all of this… goes away. Forever. You can go back to your normal lives. Pretend none of this ever happened.”
He looked at each of us in turn.
“Mr. Voss is not a patient man,” he said softly. “This offer expires at midnight. After that… all bets are off. And I think we all know how this ends if we keep fighting. Someone you love is going to die. Maybe more than one. Is Mr. Hale really worth that?”
Nobody spoke.
Wells stood up, straightening his suit jacket.
“I’ll be outside in my car,” he said. “You have until midnight to decide. I suggest you choose wisely.”
He left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
For a long time, nobody said anything. We all just stared at the papers on the coffee table. The release. The immunity. The trust fund.
A way out.
All we had to do was give up Jacob.
I looked at him. He was staring at the floor, his face unreadable. I knew what he was thinking. I could see it in his eyes. He was weighing it. Calculating. Wondering if his life was worth our freedom.
“No,” I said, before he could speak. “Absolutely not. We are not trading you for anything. Not for all the money in the world. Not for immunity. Not for anything.”
“Emma —” Jacob started.
“No!” I stood up, my voice shaking. “I lost you once. I’m not losing you again. We find another way. There’s always another way.”
Tyler looked at my father.
“Dad?” he said. “What do you think?”
My father looked at the papers on the table. At the immunity. At the chance to erase ten years of mistakes. To give his grandson a perfect life. To keep his family safe.
Then he looked at Jacob. At the boy he’d helped raise. At the son he’d never had. At the father of his grandson.
May you like
He reached out.
And tore the papers in half.
