Chapter 4 - WHAT CLAIRE NEVER TOLD ETHAN
“What happened in Paris?”
Ethan’s voice was quiet.
Claire did not answer immediately.
That frightened him more than anything.
Mara watched her.
Rosa looked confused.
Claire pushed herself higher against the hospital pillows.
“Paris was where I went after the accident.”
“The accident that nearly put you off the bridge?”
“Yes.”
“You told me you went to Boston.”
“I lied.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know who I could trust.”
“Even me?”
Claire met his eyes.
“Especially you.”
He recoiled slightly.
She continued before he could speak.
“Three years ago, you believed everything Eleanor put in front of you.”
“Financial records.”
“Photographs.”
“Emails.”
“You never once asked how she obtained them.”
“You never asked why everything appeared in the same forty-eight hours.”
“I know.”
“No.”
“You know now.”
“That doesn’t change who you were then.”
Ethan lowered his eyes.
Claire continued.
“After my car was forced off the road, I contacted your father’s attorney.”
“Not the Blackwood family firm.”
“Someone Richard trusted privately.”
“His name was Samuel Price.”
Mara wrote it down.
“He told me Richard had left something in Paris.”
“What?”
“A safe-deposit box.”
Ethan frowned.
“My father had accounts in Paris?”
“Not money.”
“Documents.”
Claire looked toward Rosa.
“And a recording.”
Ethan stood again.
“What recording?”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Richard confessing that he had helped Eleanor hide financial crimes for years.”
No one spoke.
Ethan looked stunned.
“My father helped her?”
“At first.”
“Why?”
“He loved her.”
“He thought he could fix it quietly.”
“He paid money back into accounts.”
“He falsified reports.”
“He protected her.”
“Then the amounts became too large.”
“And Julian became involved.”
Ethan sat again slowly.
“So my father wasn’t innocent.”
“No.”
Claire’s answer was immediate.
“But he was trying to stop it.”
“Late.”
“But he was trying.”
“What was in Paris?”
“The original foundation ledgers.”
“Emails between Eleanor and Julian.”
“And a draft statement Richard intended to give federal investigators.”
Mara leaned forward.
“Where are they now?”
Claire looked at her.
“Gone.”
Ethan’s expression hardened.
“How?”
“When I arrived, the box had already been emptied.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know.”
“There was only one thing left.”
Claire reached beneath the collar of her hospital gown.
A thin chain circled her neck.
Hanging from it was a tiny black key.
Ethan stared.
“You’ve had that the entire time?”
“Yes.”
“What does it open?”
“I still don’t know.”
Ethan laughed once.
“You’re asking me to trust you while you’re still hiding evidence.”
Claire’s eyes flashed.
“I spent three years hiding from people connected to your family.”
“I’m not handing over the only thing they haven’t managed to steal simply because you suddenly feel guilty.”
That stopped him.
Mara looked between them.
“Both of you can argue about trust later.”
“Right now we have a missing witness, possible attempted murder, historical financial crimes, and a suspicious death.”
She pointed at the key.
“We figure out what that opens.”
Rosa stared at it.
“I’ve seen that shape before.”
Everyone turned.
“Where?”
“In Mr. Richard’s study.”
“There was a small cabinet under his desk.”
Ethan frowned.
“I cleared that study after he died.”
“You didn’t clear everything.”
“What do you mean?”
Rosa looked uncomfortable.
“Your mother did.”
The group left the hospital three hours later.
Claire had a fractured rib, severe bruising, and a concussion.
Her doctor wanted her kept overnight.
Claire refused.
Ethan protested.
She ignored him.
Mara arranged two officers to accompany them to Blackwood Manor.
When they arrived, Eleanor was gone.
Her attorneys claimed she had traveled into the city.
Mara did not believe them.
Neither did Ethan.
Richard’s study occupied the south corner of the manor.
Ethan had not entered it in nearly two years.
Nothing looked unusual.
Claire went directly to the desk.
Rosa knelt beside her.
“Here.”
A narrow brass plate was hidden beneath the lowest drawer.
Claire inserted the black key.
A compartment opened.
Empty.
Ethan swore.
Claire reached inside anyway.
Her fingers touched something.
“Wait.”
She pulled out a strip of paper no larger than a receipt.
Numbers were written on it.
Mara leaned closer.
“Account?”
Claire shook her head.
“Coordinates.”
Ethan opened a map on his phone.
The coordinates pointed to a place forty miles north.
Blackwood Lake.
Ethan’s face changed.
“My father’s old hunting cabin.”
They drove there before sunset.
The cabin sat beyond a narrow gravel road surrounded by pine trees.
It had not been used in years.
At least that was what Ethan believed.
When they approached, Mara saw tire tracks.
Fresh.
“Someone beat us here.”
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, drawers had been emptied.
Furniture overturned.
Cabinet doors hung open.
Claire entered slowly.
“They were looking for something.”
Ethan examined the fireplace.
Ashes were still warm.
“Recently.”
Mara looked at the tire tracks again.
“Possibly within hours.”
Claire moved toward a shelf.
One photograph remained.
Richard and Ethan at the lake.
Ethan was twelve.
He looked happy.
Claire watched his face.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For making you see your father differently.”
Ethan shook his head.
“You didn’t.”
“They did.”
A sound came from beneath the floor.
Everyone froze.
Thump.
Mara drew her weapon.
“Stay back.”
Another thump.
Ethan pointed toward an old rug.
He pulled it aside.
A trapdoor appeared.
Mara opened it.
A staircase descended into darkness.
“Police.”
“No movement.”
Someone groaned.
Ethan grabbed a flashlight.
They descended.
The basement smelled damp.
A man was tied to a chair.
His shirt was stained with blood.
His face was swollen.
Claire gasped.
“Peter.”
Peter Langford lifted his head.
“Ethan…”
Mara rushed toward him.
“Who did this?”
Peter’s lips trembled.
“I didn’t see them.”
“What happened after you left the manor?”
“A car followed me.”
“They blocked the road.”
“Two men.”
“They pulled me out.”
“Why bring you here?”
Peter looked at Ethan.
“Because they wanted me to call you.”
Ethan froze.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Claire looked around.
“A trap.”
Mara immediately radioed for backup.
Nothing happened.
Static.
“No signal.”
The basement door slammed above them.
Ethan ran up the stairs.
Locked.
Then smoke drifted through the cracks.
Claire stared upward.
“They set the cabin on fire.”
Peter began struggling.
Ethan kicked at the door.
It did not move.
Mara searched the walls.
“There has to be another exit.”
Claire remembered the coordinates.
Richard would not have sent them somewhere with only one way out.
She looked at the stone wall.
Then at the old photograph still clutched in Ethan’s hand.
“Show me that picture.”
“What?”
“The picture.”
He handed it to her.
Behind twelve-year-old Ethan and Richard was the lake.
And beside the cabin was a second structure.
A boathouse.
Claire looked toward the basement wall facing the water.
“Richard built a tunnel.”
Ethan stared.
“What?”
“My father told me once.”
“He said your family used this place during Prohibition.”
Ethan ran his hands across the stones.
“Here.”
A metal ring was hidden behind a wooden shelf.
He pulled.
Part of the wall opened.
Smoke poured down the stairs.
Mara freed Peter.
“Move.”
The tunnel was narrow.
Ethan supported Peter.
Claire followed.
They emerged inside the old boathouse.
Flames had already swallowed half the cabin.
Police sirens echoed in the distance.
Peter collapsed onto the floor.
Mara knelt beside him.
“Peter.”
“Who ordered this?”
Peter looked at Claire.
“They kept asking about a ledger.”
Claire went still.
“What ledger?”
“They said you had it.”
“I don’t.”
Peter shook his head.
“They didn’t believe me.”
“They said Richard gave it to you.”
Ethan looked at Claire.
Claire looked confused.
“He didn’t.”
Peter reached into his torn jacket.
“I found this under the chair.”
He handed Ethan a gold cufflink.
An engraved letter J covered the front.
Ethan stared at it.
Julian.
Mara took the cufflink.
Then Peter whispered.
“There’s something else.”
Everyone leaned closer.
“Before they left…”
“One of them made a phone call.”
“What did he say?”
Peter swallowed.
“He said…”
“Mrs. Blackwood wants the girl alive.”
Claire felt cold.
“What girl?”
Peter looked directly at her.
“You.”
May you like
Then his eyes shifted toward Ethan.
“And he called your mother Eleanor.”
