Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Nursery Door)
Daniel ran.
The office door slammed against the wall as he tore through the hallway.
Warren was only a step behind him.
Another crash came from upstairs.
Then Anna shouted Noah’s name.
Daniel took the staircase three steps at a time.
The nursery door was closed.
He had left it open.
“Daniel!” Anna cried.
She reached it first.
The knob would not turn.
Locked.
Daniel hit the door with his shoulder.
Once.
Twice.
The frame cracked.
On the third impact, the door burst inward.
Noah stood in his crib screaming.
A window beside the dresser was broken.
Curtains whipped in the breeze.
Someone had been inside.
Daniel rushed to Noah.
“It’s okay.”
The boy threw himself against him.
“Man.”
Daniel froze.
“What man?”
Noah pointed toward the window.
“Man there.”
Warren crossed the room.
They were on the second floor.
Below the window was a narrow stone ledge connected to a decorative balcony.
“Security!” Warren shouted into his radio. “West garden. Now.”
Daniel saw something beside the broken glass.
A black glove.
Not theirs.
Anna picked up Noah’s stuffed elephant.
Something fell out.
A folded piece of paper.
Daniel stared.
“Don’t touch it.”
Warren used a handkerchief to lift it.
There were only five words.
GIVE BACK WHAT IS OURS.
Daniel looked at Noah.
“What did he want?”
Noah buried his face in his father’s chest.
“Key.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
The gold key.
He had not seen it since his father’s funeral.
At the time, Noah had been barely eighteen months old.
His father, Henry Carter, had placed it in Noah’s tiny palm while sitting beside him in the hospital garden.
Daniel had laughed.
“Dad, he’s going to lose that in five minutes.”
Henry had looked strangely serious.
“Then I hope someone trustworthy finds it.”
Daniel remembered the words now.
He had dismissed them.
His father had been ill.
Exhausted.
Perhaps frightened by the cancer diagnosis they all believed he had.
Except the official cause of death had later been recorded as cardiac failure.
Daniel suddenly wondered why that had never bothered him.
He carried Noah downstairs.
Warren remained behind to coordinate the search.
In the drawing room, Evelyn was no longer seated.
One of the security guards stood near the door.
“Where is she?” Daniel demanded.
The guard’s face tightened.
“Bathroom.”
“How long?”
“Two minutes.”
Daniel pushed open the adjoining bathroom door.
Empty.
The window was open.
“Damn it.”
The guard went pale.
“I checked the window earlier. It was locked.”
Daniel looked at the marble sill.
A small metal clasp had been unscrewed from inside.
Prepared in advance.
Evelyn had expected she might need a way out.
Daniel handed Noah to Anna.
“Stay with him.”
Then he entered the bathroom.
On the counter sat Evelyn’s handbag.
Her phone was still inside.
So was her wallet.
If she had fled without either, she had help.
Daniel searched the bag.
Lipstick.
Keys.
A silver compact.
Prescription bottle.
No name.
He held it up.
Anna stared.
“What is it?”
Daniel read the label.
It had been torn away.
“Warren will find out.”
His fingers brushed something at the bottom of the bag.
An old photograph.
Daniel pulled it out.
Three men stood outside a brick building.
His father was one of them.
The second man was Daniel’s uncle, Peter Carter, who had disappeared from the family’s life almost twenty years ago.
The third was unfamiliar.
On the back, someone had written:
Bellhaven Research Center, 1998.
Daniel had never heard of Bellhaven.
There was another object.
A hotel key card.
Room 707.
The Stanton Hotel.
Daniel knew it well.
His company owned fifteen percent of the property.
Anna whispered, “Room Seven.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Maybe.”
His phone rang.
Rachel.
His executive assistant.
He answered.
“Where are you?”
Her voice was unusually tense.
“At the office.”
“You told Anna I was unavailable when she tried to reach me.”
Silence.
“Daniel…”
“Five times.”
“I can explain.”
“Do that.”
“I was told not to forward household complaints while you were negotiating the Mercer acquisition.”
“By whom?”
Another pause.
“Evelyn.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“You take instructions from my wife about access to me?”
“She said you approved it.”
“Did you verify that with me?”
“No.”
“Then clear your desk.”
“Daniel, please.”
“Before security does it for you.”
“Wait.”
Her voice changed.
“There’s something else.”
Daniel almost ended the call.
“What?”
“Evelyn came to the office three weeks ago.”
He waited.
“She asked for copies of your father’s trust files.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Did you give them to her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“But she didn’t leave empty-handed.”
“What does that mean?”
“She met someone downstairs.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. A man.”
“Description?”
“Late sixties. Grey hair. Walked with a cane.”
Daniel’s mind immediately produced an image.
One man fitting that description had been present at Henry Carter’s funeral.
His father’s former attorney.
Jonathan Vale.
Daniel had not seen him since.
“What did they do?”
“They sat in the lobby for twenty minutes.”
“And?”
“Afterward, Evelyn returned upstairs.”
Daniel frowned.
“To my office?”
“No.”
Rachel’s next words made him stop breathing.
“To your father’s old office.”
That office had been sealed after Henry died.
Daniel had kept it untouched.
“What was she doing there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have cameras.”
“There’s no footage.”
Daniel’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“The system was erased.”
“By whom?”
“We traced the administrator login.”
Rachel hesitated.
“It was yours.”
Daniel looked at the memory card lying on the desk.
Someone had been using his credentials.
Someone with access to his house.
His company.
His dead father’s office.
“Rachel.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t leave the building.”
“Why?”
“Because someone may come looking for whatever Evelyn didn’t find.”
The call ended.
Warren entered.
“No sign of Mrs. Carter on the grounds.”
“How?”
“We found a service gate open behind the greenhouse.”
Daniel nodded.
“Vehicle?”
“Black SUV seen leaving the adjacent road six minutes ago. Plates obscured.”
Daniel handed him the pill bottle.
“Test these.”
Then the photograph.
“And find out everything about Bellhaven Research Center.”
Warren studied it.
“I know that name.”
Daniel looked at him sharply.
“From where?”
Warren turned the photograph over.
“My father worked there.”
Daniel stared.
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
“What was it?”
“Private medical research. Behavioral studies. Pharmaceutical trials.”
“When did it close?”
“About twenty years ago.”
“Why?”
Warren’s face became guarded.
“There was a fire.”
Daniel looked at the image again.
His father.
Peter.
The unknown man.
1998.
“What kind of fire?”
“The official story was electrical.”
“And the unofficial story?”
Warren met his eyes.
“That records were being destroyed.”
A guard rushed in.
“Mr. Carter.”
“What?”
“We found something in the garage.”
Daniel followed him.
Behind a stack of storage crates was a loose panel.
Inside the wall cavity lay a burgundy suitcase.
Evelyn’s.
Daniel opened it.
No clothes.
No jewelry.
Only folders.
Copies of his financial records.
His father’s medical history.
Noah’s birth certificate.
Daniel’s marriage certificate.
And a photograph of Anna.
Taken before she had ever been employed by the Carter family.
Daniel slowly lifted it.
Anna stood outside a small suburban house.
The date printed in the corner was three years old.
Daniel hired Anna eighteen months ago.
He turned toward her.
Her face went white.
“Why does Evelyn have a picture of you from before you worked here?”
Anna stared at the photograph.
Then at Daniel.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Think very carefully.”
Anna’s eyes filled.
“I’ve never seen that picture.”
“Then who took it?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel searched the suitcase again.
At the very bottom was an employment application.
Anna’s application.
But the signature was different.
Daniel held it up.
“Is this yours?”
Anna looked at it.
“No.”
He felt anger rising again.
“You’re telling me someone applied for this job in your name?”
Anna whispered, “Yes.”
“Then how did you end up here?”
Her hands began to tremble.
“Because I received a letter.”
“What letter?”
“A woman contacted me after my mother died.”
Daniel waited.
“She said your family needed someone who understood how to care for a child who had lost his mother.”
Daniel’s face changed.
“Noah’s mother wasn’t dead.”
“I know.”
“She was alive when you were hired.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would the letter say that?”
Anna began crying.
“Because the letter wasn’t talking about Noah.”
Daniel went still.
May you like
Anna looked toward the photograph of Henry Carter.
“It was talking about you.”
