The Contract With Her Father's Billionaire Rival-Chapter 86. A Large-scale Investigation.

Alaric couldn’t believe his eyes as he clicked the mouse again. He leaned closer, watching as the imposter got away with the paintings.

He straightened up and turned to Devin. "Who is this person?"

Devin shrugged. "No idea sir. But he is the same person who stole the other three."

Alaric shook his head, a new wave of fear bubbling inside him.

Who the hell was this person? And where was Ian?

He reviewed the footage again. He watched the previous video and compared. It was the same person, same build, same movements.

One person had stolen four paintings.

How come nobody saw that before now?

He turned to Devin, his voice taut with gratitude. "Thank you so much for calling my attention to this. I appreciate it."

Devin nodded. "You’re welcome sir."

His fear intensified as he left the computer room. Once in the hallway, he pulled out his phone and dialed the detective in charge of the case.

"Hello, Detective Franklin. How are you doing today?"

"Very good Mr Allens," Detective Franklin replied in his firm voice.

"I think the case has taken another turn."

Even as he said the words out loud, his stomach churned.

"What do you mean, Mr Allens?" Detective Franklin asked, confusion coloring his tone.

"I think Ian is missing," he said, exhaling deeply. "Can you come over to the office, please?"

"Oh. Alright sir. I’m on my way."

Alaric ended the call and walked to his office.

Ian was missing.

The thought sent chills down his spine.

He couldn’t believe he had accused Ian of relapsing, he couldn’t believe he had accepted that Ian could do something like this.

There had been evidence.

But still, he could have chosen to hold onto the doubt, like Richard had. When he reached his office, he went to his mini fridge and took a bottle of cold water.

He took a long sip, hoping the cold would settle some of the discomfort in his stomach and cool the disbelief burning at the back of his throat.

He perched on the edge of his desk, shaking his head in concentration.

First, he had thought Ronald had been working with Ian. Now he didn’t know what to think.

Who was this new guy? Why impersonate Ian? Why dress like him, mimic his walk, use his keycard to access the art vault and steal four priceless paintings?

Was he overthinking? Could this be personal? Something internal, unrelated to Ronald?

The questions piled up, and with them, his confusion deepened.

His phone rang and he answered it without checking the screen.

"Hello, Detective—"

"Detective?" his mother’s voice cut in sharply.

He sighed and stood, walking to his chair. "Hello, Mother."

"Don’t give me that," Clara snapped. "I’ve been calling since yesterday, and then I found out from Richard that you went back to Australia. I’m proud you returned, but I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me."

He could hear the joy in her voice when she mentioned Australia. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"I’m not back fully... I just came to sort out some things."

He was keeping it vague.

There was no way in hell he was telling his mother everything.

"So you are coming back to New Orleans?" she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.

"Yes."

"I can’t believe you!"

Here we go.

"I can’t believe you would come back to... this place!" Clara shouted.

"I have a life now in New Orleans. I have a wife too," he said, his chest tightening with longing as he thought about Nicolette.

Clara let out a long, ugly laugh.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"A wife? Or community trash?" she spat.

His jaw clenched. "I don’t appreciate that word, Mother. You said you would change, remember?"

She scoffed. "That was when I thought she was redeemable. Not after what she did with that other man. And definitely not after how she treated me when I went to your house."

He stood up, bristling. "You went to my house? Why? You just said you knew I wasn’t home."

"Can’t I visit my son’s house?" she shot back. "I made every arrangement in that house before you ever moved in."

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his mother well, she had definitely gone there looking for trouble.

Annoyance bubbled inside him, but he kept it in check. "What happened, mother?"

"Oh, Alaric, a lot." Her voice suddenly went sweet. "I went over to... to spend time with her, to get to know her like you suggested, and she just flared up."

His eyes narrowed, even though she couldn’t see that. "Flare up? Just like that?"

"Yes!" Clara exclaimed. "She started yelling at me for coming. I think she assumed I was there to judge her about the news going around. But I wasn’t—I came to make peace."

He sighed, reaching for his water again. He didn’t believe her. Nicolette would never overreact like that. And Clara? She never made peace.

"You shouldn’t have gone to the house when I wasn’t around," he said. "Especially not to make peace without me there."

"That’s it?" Clara snapped. "That’s all you’ll say?"

He groaned, just as there was a knock on his door. He turned as Jeanne poked her head in.

"The police are here," she said.

He nodded in acknowledgment and returned his attention to his mother who was going on heavily on the phone.

"... Cause you took her side! You could have—"

"Let me call you back, Mother."

"Don’t you dare hang—"

Too late.

He ended the call, adjusted his jacket, and finished the rest of his water.

In the reception area, the detectives were waiting.

"Hello, Detectives," he greeted.

"Mr. Allens," Detective Franklin replied, extending his hand.

Alaric shook it and nodded at the others. "Thank you for coming. Please, follow me."

He led them to the computer room, where the tech team had gathered around Devin’s desk.

"Detective Franklin, we’ve discovered something new about the theft," he said, gesturing to Devin. "Show him."

Devin tapped on his keyboard, bringing up the footage. The detectives leaned in, watching closely. Soon, they took over the computer themselves.

Alaric stood to the side, arms folded, watching their reactions. After a while, Detective Franklin stepped away to make a call. When he returned, he came straight to Alaric.

"Mr. Allens, I think you do have a problem," he confirmed.

Alaric nodded, a tight knot forming in his stomach. "How do we fix it?"

"We have started a search party for Ian. We are treating him as a victim now, not a suspect," Franklin explained. "We will also be re-questioning all the staff, if that’s alright with you."

Alaric nodded. "Of course."

"This is going to be a large-scale investigation. We are basically starting afresh," Detective Franklin explained.

"I understand," Alaric said, letting his hand fall to his side.

"Alright then. Let us get to work."

More detectives began arriving, and soon the office buzzed with activity. Alaric eventually stepped away, overwhelmed by their presence.

He rubbed his face, anxiety building with each second, exhaustion lurking nearby.

If only there was more evidence to help the detectives.

Then he remembered Mr. Schneider.

He quickly dialed the number. When the line connected, he spoke.

"Mr. Schneider. I have a question."

Mr Schneider chuckled as if he had been expecting Alaric to call. "Is this about the email?"

"Yes," Alaric said. "If you don’t mind, I would like the detectives to access the message to trace the sender."

If the sender was identified, maybe they could find Ian.

Mr Schneider chuckled. "There will be no need for that."

Alaric blinked. "Why? You don’t—"

"Oh no. I very much want to help," Schneider interrupted gently. "I just mean there’s no need to trace the email. I already know who sent it."

Alaric’s breath hitched. "Who?"

"It wasn’t easy to find," Schneider said, his voice dropping. "But the sender is someone named Lucian Crawford. Do you know him?"