Chapter 6 - The Matriarch
Harrison closed the breakfast-room doors.
“What did you do?”
Evelyn didn’t look up.
“I saved you.”
“By stealing evidence?”
“Evidence?” She smiled. “Interesting word.”
“Mother.”
“You’ve been sloppy.”
“I had it under control.”
“You struck a woman in broad daylight and dropped her off a balcony.”
“She threatened everything.”
“So you panicked.”
“I did not panic.”
Evelyn’s spoon clicked against the porcelain cup.
“You’ve always confused rage with control.”
Harrison leaned across the table.
“Where is the recording?”
“Safe.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
His face tightened.
Evelyn finally looked up.
“You seem to have forgotten who built this family.”
“You married money.”
“I multiplied it.”
“You manipulated everyone around you.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled.
“And now you’re finally paying attention.”
Across town, Elena was walking for the first time since the fall.
Four steps.
Then six.
Then ten.
Every breath hurt.
Every movement reminded her that Harrison had expected her to become a body under a sheet.
That kept her moving.
Price entered with news.
“We found the fake orderly.”
Elena stopped.
“Alive?”
“Dead.”
Brooks turned away from the window.
“How?”
“Car in a lake. They’re calling it an accident.”
“No,” Elena said. “They’re cleaning up.”
Price nodded.
“His name was Travis Kane. Former paramedic. Two arrests, both dismissed.”
“By whom?”
Price held Elena’s eyes.
“Judge Harrison Vale.”
Sofia whispered, “Of course.”
Brooks studied the file.
“If we can connect payment—”
“There’s more.”
Price produced a photograph.
Kane standing outside a restaurant.
Beside him was Sheriff Mercer.
Elena stared at it.
“When?”
“Four days before the balcony.”
That meant her murder might have been planned before she ever confronted Harrison.
She felt suddenly cold.
“What if the fall wasn’t the beginning?”
Brooks understood.
“You think Vale knew you were collecting evidence.”
“I think he knew before I walked into the study.”
Sofia looked confused.
“How?”
Elena thought of the office.
Her desk.
Her computer.
The hidden voice recorder.
Then she remembered her assistant, Caleb Dunn.
Twenty-four years old.
Nervous.
Smart.
Always eager to please.
He had helped configure her backup account.
“Caleb.”
Brooks asked, “Who’s Caleb?”
“My assistant.”
Price grabbed his keys.
Twenty minutes later, police reached Caleb’s apartment.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, the place had been torn apart.
Drawers dumped.
Laptop gone.
Pictures smashed.
A streak of blood crossed the kitchen tile.
But there was no body.
Price found Caleb’s phone under the refrigerator.
One unsent text remained on the screen.
It was addressed to Elena.
I’M SORRY. HE KNOWS ABOUT THE BACKUP. DON’T TRUST—
That was where the message stopped.
But beneath the refrigerator, trapped under the phone case, Price found something else.
A hotel key card.
Room 417.
May you like
The Grand Regent.
And according to the security timestamp, somebody had used that room only ninety minutes earlier.
