Chapter 2 - THE MAN WITH THE SILVER WOLF
Gideon had walked past Juniper’s memorial bench every Christmas Eve for three years.
He had never told the press.
Never announced it.
Never posted photographs.
Only a handful of people knew.
His driver.
His housekeeper.
Two old friends.
And senior staff at the Witmore Foundation, which maintained the memorial lights Gideon funded in Juniper’s name.
Mara Bennett should not have known.
Unless she knew someone there.
Detective Ortiz asked Norah only one more question that night.
“What did the bad man look like?”
Norah stared at the rabbit.
“He had shiny wolves.”
Ortiz frowned.
“Wolves?”
Norah pointed at Gideon’s sleeve.
“Here.”
Cufflinks.
“He had silver wolves on his hands.”
Gideon felt cold in a way that had nothing to do with Chicago winter.
He had seen silver wolf cufflinks that evening.
At the Witmore Foundation’s Christmas gala.
Simon Ward wore them.
Simon had been Gideon’s chief financial officer for almost fourteen years.
College friend.
Business partner.
The man who had stood beside Gideon at Juniper’s funeral when Gideon could barely remain upright.
Simon collected antique cufflinks.
His favorite pair were silver wolves.
Gideon said nothing in front of Norah.
Later, in the hallway, he told Ortiz.
“You know someone who wears them?”
“Yes.”
“Name.”
“Simon Ward.”
Ortiz wrote it down.
“Relationship?”
“My CFO.”
“Any connection to Mara Bennett?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer stopped being true thirty minutes later.
Gideon called his corporate security director.
“Find Mara Bennett.”
Within twenty minutes:
Mara Bennett had worked for the Witmore Foundation for eighteen months.
Grant Accounting Specialist.
Mid-level employee.
No direct reporting relationship to Gideon.
But the foundation received almost forty million dollars in donations from Gideon-controlled entities over six years.
Gideon stared at the screen.
“How did I never meet her?”
“More than two hundred employees.”
Reasonable.
Still uncomfortable.
Then security found something else.
Mara had requested a meeting with Gideon eleven days earlier.
The request never reached him.
“Why?”
“It was rejected by Simon Ward’s office.”
Gideon became still.
“What reason?”
“Financial review considered routine. Referred back to foundation management.”
“What did Mara say she wanted to discuss?”
There was one line in the calendar request.
URGENT CONCERNS REGARDING FAMILY HOUSING GRANTS AND SHELL VENDORS.
Gideon read it three times.
Then he called Simon.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Gideon called Simon’s wife.
“He left the gala early,” she said.
“When?”
“Maybe nine.”
“Where did he go?”
“I thought he went home.”
“He’s not answering.”
Silence.
Then:
“Gideon, what happened?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That was becoming the sentence of the night.
The next morning Norah finally slept.
Gideon stayed in a chair outside Mara’s ICU room.
At seven, Detective Ortiz returned.
“We found the vehicle.”
“Gray sedan?”
“Yes.”
“Registered to Simon?”
“No.”
A rental company.
Cash deposit.
Fake identification.
Then Ortiz placed a photograph on the table.
Parking garage camera.
Grainy.
A man standing beside Mara.
His face partially hidden.
Norah was visible several feet away.
And on his wrist, a flash of silver.
Wolf cufflinks.
But Gideon saw something else.
The man’s height.
Posture.
Hairline.
“It’s Simon.”
Ortiz did not confirm.
“We need more than recognition from a friend.”
Then Gideon’s phone rang.
Simon.
Gideon answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
Simon sounded offended.
“At home.”
“You left the gala.”
“I had a migraine.”
“Did you meet Mara Bennett?”
Silence.
Tiny.
But real.
“Who?”
Wrong answer.
Gideon had spent fourteen years listening to Simon negotiate.
He knew every kind of pause.
“That name means something to you.”
“Gideon, it’s Christmas morning.”
“Did you meet her?”
“No.”
Then Simon added:
“You found the girl, didn’t you?”
Gideon stopped breathing.
He had not told Simon about Norah.
No public report had identified her.
Nobody outside police, hospital staff, and Gideon’s driver knew.
Gideon’s voice went cold.
“What girl?”
Silence.
Then Simon disconnected.
Detective Ortiz stared at him.
“You recorded that?”
Gideon held up the phone.
“Yes.”
Ortiz stood.
“I’m getting a warrant.”
Then Norah appeared in the doorway behind them.
She had heard enough.
“Was that the wolf man?”
Gideon walked toward her.
“Norah—”
She held up her rabbit.
“Mama said Bunny knows where the truth is.”
Gideon frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Norah turned the stuffed rabbit over.
One ear had been stitched back on with bright pink thread.
“My mama fixed him last night.”
May you like
Detective Ortiz carefully touched the seam.
Something hard was inside.
