The Man Rowan Was Afraid to Be
Chapter 08 - The Man Rowan Was Afraid to Be
Rowan had not been inside a police station since college, when his father’s driver took care of a speeding ticket before Rowan finished apologizing.
Wealth had always moved trouble away from him.
Now trouble sat across from him in an interview room wearing Margaret Sloan’s reading glasses and Maren’s exhausted stare.
Detective Anita Reyes had kind eyes and a voice that suggested kindness was not the same as softness. She listened to the recording from Caroline Brooks twice. Then she listened again while a forensic technician preserved the original.
Maren sat with the babies in a family waiting room down the hall because Detective Reyes refused to have newborns sitting under fluorescent interrogation lights.
Rowan appreciated that more than he knew how to say.
Lily, Luke, and Grace had been fed, changed, and placed in three borrowed hospital bassinets from the station’s victim services unit. Grace slept with one fist near her face. Luke made small grunting noises like an old man displeased with taxes. Lily watched the ceiling tiles with grave suspicion.
Maren watched Rowan with much the same expression.
He deserved it.
Across the table, Detective Reyes said, “Mr. Brooks, before we proceed, I need clarity. Are you providing these materials voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
“Even if they implicate your father’s company, your former attorney, and possibly your own corporate structure?”
“Yes.”
“Even if they expose you to civil liability?”
Rowan looked through the glass wall toward Maren.
She had not asked him to burn his life down.
That was the difference between truth and revenge. Revenge demanded sacrifice from the other person. Truth simply stood there and let you decide whether to keep lying.
“Yes,” he said.
Margaret nodded slightly.
Detective Reyes continued. “When did you last speak to Lionel Price?”
“This morning.”
“Did he advise you to avoid reporting a missing child?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know a protection order had been filed in your name or against you?”
“No.”
“Did you ask him to block Maren Brooks from contacting you?”
Rowan closed his eyes briefly.
“No.”
“But you believed him when he said she chose not to.”
The question did not need an answer, but he gave one.
“Yes.”
Detective Reyes wrote something down.
Rowan hated the pen.
He hated its small scratching honesty.
When the first interview ended, Margaret stepped outside to take a call, leaving Rowan alone for one minute.
Maren entered before he could gather himself.
She did not sit.
“Grace needs a birth certificate correction.”
“I’ll sign whatever is needed.”
“She needs you to do more than sign things.”
“I know.”
Her eyes were tired enough to make him ashamed of every night he had slept.
“Do you?” she asked.
Rowan looked down at his hands.
“I believed the version of you that cost me the least.”
Maren’s face changed, just slightly.
“That is the first honest thing you’ve said.”
“It won’t be the last.”
She leaned against the wall.
“Don’t promise me. I’m not a boardroom.”
He nodded.
“I found your letters today.”
Her breath caught.
“Lionel kept them in a restricted legal file. Six envelopes. Two photos. One hospital bracelet.” He swallowed. “The first one said, Rowan, if you still have a heart, come to St. Agnes.”
Maren looked away.
He hated himself with an efficiency that surprised him.
“I did not know,” he said. “But not knowing doesn’t make me innocent.”
“No,” she said quietly. “It makes you absent.”
That was worse.
Because it was true.
The door opened. Margaret returned, face grim.
“Lionel is missing.”
Rowan stood. “What?”
“He resigned from the firm at noon, cleared his office, and withdrew four million dollars from a personal account tied to Whitmore holdings.”
Maren said, “Tessa?”
“Also missing.”
Detective Reyes entered behind Margaret. “We have traffic cameras showing Ms. Whitmore’s car heading north. We believe she may be going to the old Whitmore Home property near Lake Forest.”
Ellen, who had been waiting with the babies, appeared in the doorway.
Her face had gone pale.
“That building is still standing?”
Detective Reyes turned. “You know it?”
Ellen nodded. “That is where Caroline believed the original adoption files were kept.”
Maren looked at Rowan.
The old world did not want to die.
It was driving north with Tessa Whitmore and a lawyer who knew where every body made of paper was buried.
Rowan reached for his phone.
Maren said, “What are you doing?”
“Calling my board.”
She laughed once. “Now?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“If I am going to stop being absent, I can start by making sure no one connected to my company helps them hide.”
The call lasted four minutes.
By the end, Brooks Meridian froze all Whitmore payments, suspended Lionel’s legal access, locked corporate archives, and placed every internal adoption-related document under preservation hold.
Rowan’s CFO said, “This could damage us badly.”
Rowan answered, “Good. Then maybe we’ll finally feel it.”
When he ended the call, Maren looked at him differently.
Not forgiving.
Not trusting.
But seeing.
Outside, thunder rolled over Chicago though the sky had been clear an hour earlier.
Detective Reyes gathered her coat. “We are moving on Lake Forest.”
Maren looked toward the babies.
Rowan said, “You stay with them.”
She gave him a look sharp enough to draw blood.
He corrected himself immediately.
“I mean—I want them safe. I am not telling you what to do.”
Maren’s gaze held him a long second.
Then she said, “I’m coming.”
Rowan wanted to argue.
Instead, he nodded.
May you like
The man he had been would have mistaken control for protection.
The man he might become opened the door and let her walk through first.
