"At my father’s graveside, the gravedigger gripped my arm and whispered, “Sir, your father paid me to bury an empty coffin.” Before I could even speak, he pushed a brass key into my hand. “Don’t go home,” he warned. “No matter who calls, no matter what they say. Go to Unit 17 on Route 9. Right now.” Then my phone buzzed. A text from my mother appeared on the screen. Come home alone. My father had been buried less than five minutes earlier. Or so I believed

The dining room table was set for two.

My mother sat at the head of the long mahogany table, cutting into a piece of steak. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the clinking of silverware.

"He wasn't in the coffin, Elias," she said suddenly, not even looking up from her plate.

I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied.

She set her knife down and looked at me, her eyes dead and hollow. "The mortician works for me. He confessed ten minutes ago. Arthur paid a gravedigger to bury a synthetic dummy. Your father is alive. And he took a ledger that belongs to my associates."

"Mom, you're not making any sense."

"Drop the act!" she suddenly screamed, slamming her fists on the table. The polite, suburban mother vanished entirely. "He left you a key, didn't he? To his safety deposit boxes. Tell me where the ledger is, Elias. Tell me, or I swear to God, I will have the men in the den shoot Sarah and the boys right now."

I looked at the antique grandfather clock in the corner.

Four minutes and forty-five seconds had passed.

"You're not my mother," I whispered.

"No," she sneered. "Your real mother died in a car crash when you were two. Arthur owed my employers a massive debt. I was sent in to keep an eye on him. I raised you, Elias. I fed you. I clothed you. Now, pay me back. Where is the ledger?"

I reached into my pocket, my fingers wrapping around the cold plastic of the satellite phone Keller had given me.

"You want to know where he is?" I asked, standing up from the table.

"Yes."