His voice is completely unrecognizable. It is high, frantic, and laced with a terrifying, absolute panic. He sounds like a man who is standing on the edge of a cliff and just realized the ground is crumbling beneath his feet.
"Simon," I reply. "I assume you have seen the news."
"They’re here," Simon gasps, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing in the background of his call. "The FBI. They just walked into the lobby. They have warrants, Malcolm. They’re locking down the elevators."
"Then I suggest you retain a very expensive defense attorney."
"You did this!" Simon screams, his voice cracking. "You gave them the files! You promised me you wouldn't do it if I dropped the arson charges!"
"I didn't promise you anything," I correct him coldly. "Audrey gave you an ultimatum. You complied. She did not send the files to the federal prosecutor."
"Then who did?"
"I did."
Simon lets out a ragged, choking sob. "You ruined me. You ruined the family."
"You ruined yourself, Simon. I just provided the documentation." I reach for the button to end the call. I have absolutely no desire to listen to my brother beg.
"Wait!" Simon shouts, the sheer desperation in his voice making my hand pause. "Malcolm, please. You have to help me. Father isn't here."
I freeze.
The cold, absolute calm in my chest vanishes instantly.
"What do you mean he isn't there?" I demand, leaning forward. "Grant confirmed he was in the building this morning."
"He left," Simon says, his breathing heavy. "He got a phone call twenty minutes before the news broke. He took his privatesecurity detail and he left through the underground garage. He didn't even tell me."
Preston ran.
He didn't wait for the feds. He didn't try to fight the injunction. He got a tip that the raid was coming, and he abandoned his own son to take the fall.
But Preston Vance does not run without a contingency plan.
"Where did he go?" I ask, my voice dropping to a lethal register.
"I don't know!" Simon cries. "He just left! Malcolm, they’re coming up the stairs. You have to tell them I didn't know about the shell corporations. You have to tell them—"
I hang up the phone.
I stand up so fast the metal chair scrapes violently against the concrete floor.
Audrey takes a step back, her eyes wide. "What’s wrong? Preston ran. Isn't that what you said he would do?"
"He ran before the news broke," I say, grabbing my phone and hitting Grant’s speed dial. "He had a twenty-minute head start. He isn't going to O'Hare. He knows I flagged his passport."
"Then where is he going?"
Grant answers the phone. "Sir. The FBI is currently securing the building. Simon Vance is in custody."
"Where is Preston?" I demand.
"He is not in the building, sir. The feds are issuing an APB for his vehicle."
"Check the perimeter of the safe house," I order, my eyes scanning the heavy steel doors of the loft. "Right now."
"Sir, the safe house is off the grid. Preston doesn't have the location."
