Chapter 7 - The Missing Music Box)
The security system showed no forced entry.
That was the first problem.
The second was that only five people had active access codes.
Claire.
Julian.
The housekeeper, Maria.
The property manager.
And Marcus.
Claire’s code had been disabled two months earlier.
She had not known.
Julian claimed he had no idea why.
Marcus knew exactly why.
Someone had entered the mansion at 3:12 a.m., crossed the foyer, climbed the main staircase, entered Lily’s bedroom, remained there for ninety-seven seconds, then left.
The interior security cameras had been disabled.
Only the gate log remained.
The code used belonged to Maria.
“She wouldn’t do this,” Claire said.
Officer Davis stood beside the hospital window.
“Can you be certain?”
“Yes.”
“How long has she worked for your family?”
“Fourteen years.”
Marcus nodded.
“She worked for our father.”
“Where is she?”
“Mexico,” Claire said. “Her sister is having surgery.”
Davis made a note.
“Who knew her access code?”
Claire thought.
“Julian.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Why?”
“He set up the alarm system.”
Davis asked, “Anyone else?”
Claire shook her head.
Marcus sat beside the bed.
“So Julian sent someone.”
“Possibly.”
“Who?”
Claire stared at the ceiling.
“Nathan.”
“His business partner?”
“He had access to the house before.”
“Why?”
“Meetings.”
Davis said, “We’re already locating him.”
Marcus looked at Claire.
“If the recordings are gone, what else do we have?”
“The voicemail.”
“The forged documents.”
“The basement.”
“The prewritten incident report,” Davis added.
“Enough?”
Davis gave the only responsible answer.
“Enough for serious questions. I won’t promise more.”
Marcus hated that answer.
Claire did not.
She had spent months being told certainty where none existed.
She preferred facts now.
“Maybe the recordings aren’t gone.”
Marcus looked at her.
“You said they were inside the box.”
“They were.”
“Then if someone took it…”
“I said the recordings were hidden in the music box.”
Marcus waited.
Claire smiled faintly.
“I didn’t say there was only one copy.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, Marcus laughed.
“Where?”
Claire looked at Lily.
Lily was awake now, quietly drawing with crayons a nurse had brought.
Claire said, “Dad always said one copy is no copy.”
Marcus remembered.
Two copies is one.
One copy is none.
Thomas Bennett had repeated it endlessly when they were teenagers.
Important papers.
Business records.
Family photographs.
Anything that mattered.
“Cloud backup?”
Claire shook her head.
“Too easy to trace.”
“External drive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Claire looked at Marcus.
“In your office.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“Your office.”
“How?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“When you came to lunch?”
“Yes.”
Marcus remembered.
Claire had visited Bennett Industrial headquarters with Lily.
Julian had arrived unexpectedly and spent most of the lunch complaining that Claire had not told him where she was going.
Claire had gone into Marcus’s private office for fifteen minutes while he took a call.
“You hid a drive there?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Dad’s old chessboard.”
Marcus turned toward Davis.
“We’re going to my office.”
At seven that morning, they entered the Bennett Industrial building through the private garage.
Marcus’s security chief met them upstairs.
The office was exactly as Marcus had left it.
Claire walked directly to a walnut chessboard displayed on a side cabinet.
Their father had played on it every Sunday.
She lifted the black queen.
Nothing.
Marcus watched.
Claire smiled.
“Wrong piece.”
She removed the white knight.
A tiny memory card fell into her palm.
Davis exhaled.
“Mrs. Carter, you’re making my morning easier.”
Claire handed it to him.
“Make copies.”
“I will.”
“And don’t connect it to anything Julian ever had access to.”
“Understood.”
The detective assigned to the case arrived twenty minutes later.
The recordings were reviewed in a secure conference room.
Marcus listened to only three.
He could not tolerate more.
In the first, Julian repeatedly told Claire she had agreed to sell a lakefront property she insisted she had refused to sell.
In the second, he told her she had forgotten a dinner where she supposedly became drunk and abusive.
Marcus had attended that dinner.
Claire had not consumed alcohol at all.
In the third, Claire confronted Julian about a transfer.
His voice remained calm.
“You’re confused again.”
“I’m looking at the bank statement.”
“You don’t understand the account.”
“It’s my account.”
“Technically.”
Marcus paused the recording.
“Technically?”
Claire looked away.
The detective restarted it.
Julian continued.
“If your condition gets worse, I’m going to have to make decisions you won’t like.”
“What condition?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Say it.”
“You know what your father had.”
Marcus froze.
Their father had developed mild cognitive impairment in the final year of his life.
It had never progressed to dementia, but the possibility had terrified him.
Julian knew.
He had weaponized the fear against Claire.
On the recording, Claire said, “I am thirty-five.”
“Early onset happens.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“You’re worried about my money.”
The recording ended with a door slamming.
The detective removed his headphones.
“There are twenty-seven of these?”
“Yes.”
“And the financial files?”
“Different folder.”
They opened it.
Spreadsheets.
Bank statements.
Scanned signatures.
Loan documents.
Emails.
The more they reviewed, the larger the scheme became.
Julian had not stolen nine million dollars.
Nine million was what Marcus’s attorney had identified from one account.
The total exposure exceeded twenty-three million.
Some funds had moved through Carter Strategic Holdings.
Others through shell companies.
One account was registered in the Cayman Islands.
Another in Nevada.
Then the detective opened a folder called L.
Inside was a single PDF.
Claire leaned closer.
“What is that?”
Marcus opened it.
It was an insurance document.
Claire Carter.
Life insurance.
Benefit amount, fifteen million dollars.
Primary beneficiary, Julian Carter.
Claire’s face lost all color.
“I never signed this.”
The detective scrolled.
The signature looked perfect.
Marcus whispered, “When was it created?”
“Four months ago.”
Claire stood abruptly.
The chair rolled backward.
Marcus caught her arm.
“Claire.”
She stared at the screen.
The psychiatric facility had frightened her.
The forged documents had angered her.
But this was different.
This suggested another possible ending to Julian’s plan.
One that did not require her to return home.
Officer Davis’s phone rang.
He answered.
A moment later, he looked toward them.
“They found Nathan Vale.”
Marcus asked, “Where?”
“At O’Hare.”
“Leaving?”
“Yes.”
“For where?”
Davis looked at Claire.
“Zurich.”
May you like
The detective closed the laptop.
“Then we should talk to him before his flight does.”
