Chapter 8: Before Arthur Gets There
Vincent was already moving.
Vincent: Address.
Now.
Dora gave it.
A town two hours north.
A small house on a residential street.
She described it quickly — white fence, blue door, a garden her mother had kept even as her hands got worse.
Vincent called Reeves before he reached the coffee shop door.
Vincent: Arthur headed north.
I have a destination.
I'm sending you the address now.
Get the local police there ahead of us and get the car running.
He sent the address, pushed through the door, and walked fast toward the car with Clara and Dora behind him.
Dora: I should have called her this morning.
I knew you had found the box — I've been watching the bank since your grandfather's letter mentioned it.
I should have warned her the moment I saw you go in.
Vincent: You couldn't have known Arthur would run.
Dora: I've known Arthur Voss for thirty-three years.
I should have known exactly what he would do.
They got into the car.
Reeves pulled out immediately.
Clara sat beside Dora in the back seat.
Neither of them spoke.
Dora kept her phone in her hand and kept trying the number.
It kept ringing out.
Vincent sat in the front and watched the city give way to highway.
His attorney called at the forty-minute mark.
Margaret: The police have the report.
They're treating it as financial fraud with potential criminal conspiracy given the medical records.
They want you to come in and give a formal statement.
Vincent: I'll come in tomorrow morning.
Right now I need you to tell me whether a man named Arthur Voss can be stopped from leaving the country.
Margaret: Not without a warrant.
The fraud investigation will take—
Vincent: How fast?
Margaret: If the bank transfer records are as clean as you described, and the audio recordings are usable, I can push for an emergency application.
But Vincent, it will still take hours.
Vincent: Then make the calls now.
Every hour matters.
He ended the call.
Reeves: Ninety minutes out, sir.
Local police have been contacted.
They're sending a car to the address to check on her.
Vincent: Tell them not to alarm her.
She doesn't know I'm coming.
Reeves: Understood.
The highway stretched out ahead of them.
Fields and grey sky.
Clara spoke quietly from the back seat.
Clara: She never stopped thinking about you.
I want you to know that.
In the years I was in contact with her, before I lost track — she talked about you constantly.
What you might look like.
What you might be doing.
Whether you were happy.
Vincent looked out the window.
Vincent: She would have known about the company.
My name was in the news.
Clara: She knew.
Dora told her.
She said — and I'm telling you this exactly as Dora wrote it to me — she said she cried for two days.
Not from sadness.
From something she couldn't name.
She said watching you become who you became, from a distance, was the proudest and most painful thing she had ever experienced.
The car was quiet for a moment.
Dora's phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her face changed.
Dora: It's a message.
From her number.
Vincent turned around.
Dora read it aloud.
Dora: *Someone is at the door.
I don't recognize him.
He says he's from Vincent's office.*
Vincent: That's Arthur.
Reeves pressed the accelerator down.
Vincent: Call the local police.
Right now.
Tell them to get there immediately.
Tell them a man is attempting to gain access to the property and he is a person of interest in an active fraud investigation.
Reeves was already on the radio.
Vincent's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Arthur's voice.
Calm.
Almost gentle.
Arthur: Vincent.
I think we should talk before this goes any further.
Vincent: Where are you, Arthur?
Arthur: I'm standing outside a very quiet house.
The garden is lovely.
Your mother always had good taste.
Vincent: Step away from that house.
Arthur: I'm not going to h\*rt her.
I want you to understand that.
I never wanted to h\*rt anyone.
I made decisions that were necessary for the survival of this family, and I would make them again.
But I am not a violent man.
Vincent: Then step away from the door and wait for the police.
Arthur: The police.
Yes.
I expected that.
Vincent, listen to me carefully.
What is in those documents is true.
I don't deny it.
But there is context you do not have.
Your father knew more than your grandfather believed.
I protected your father for forty years, and I protected you.
The company you run today, the inheritance you control — none of it would exist in its current form without the choices I made.
Vincent: You had my mother committed to a hospital on false charges and paid a doctor to fabricate her records.
Arthur: I removed a woman who was going to destroy your father publicly and take half the company in a divorce settlement.
I preserved your inheritance.
Vincent: She was my mother.
A long pause.
Arthur: Yes.
She was.
And I am sorry for that part.
I am genuinely sorry for what it cost you.
But I am not sorry for protecting what your grandfather built.
A siren sounded in the background of the call.
Arthur's voice shifted, just slightly.
Arthur: It seems the local police are faster than I expected.
Vincent: Step away from the door, Arthur.
It's over.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Arthur: I built forty years of my life around this family, Vincent.
Forty years.
Vincent: I know.
Arthur: For what it's worth — I always hoped you would turn out well.
The line went quiet.
Not disconnected.
Just quiet.
Then, in the background of the call, a knock — firm, official.
A voice Vincent didn't recognize: *Sir.
Step back from the door, please.
Sir.*
The call ended.
Reeves: Local police confirm they are on scene.
One male detained outside the property.
No entry was made to the house.
Vincent let out a slow breath.
Dora was already typing a message.
Dora: I'm telling her we're coming.
Thirty seconds passed.
Dora's phone lit up with a reply.
She read it.
Then she turned the screen so Vincent could see.
One line.
May you like
Three words.
*How far away?*
