Chapter 4 - THE ACCIDENT THAT WASN’T AN ACCIDENT
Claire was twelve when Elizabeth Whitaker died.
The police said her car had lost traction during a storm. It struck the barrier, rolled down an embankment, and caught fire before emergency crews arrived.
Richard told Claire that her mother had been driving too fast.
For years, Claire had believed him.
Samuel placed a faded police photograph on the desk.
Elizabeth’s car lay overturned among pine trees. The front end was crushed, but the rear of the vehicle was relatively intact.
“The fire began beneath the driver’s seat,” Samuel said.
“How do you know?”
“Evelyn hired an investigator.”
“Why didn’t she go to the police?”
“She did. The investigator disappeared before he could testify.”
Claire looked at another image.
A metal brake line had been cut.
The incision was clean.
Deliberate.
“My mother was murdered.”
“We believe so.”
“Who did it?”
“We do not know.”
“You think my father did.”
Samuel removed a document from the file.
It was a life insurance policy worth twenty million dollars.
Richard was the beneficiary.
The policy had been increased six weeks before Elizabeth’s death.
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“Did Grandma know about this?”
“Yes.”
“And she still allowed him inside her house?”
“She did more than allow him. She kept him close.”
“Why?”
“To watch him.”
Claire pushed away from the desk.
“My grandmother suspected my father murdered my mother, and nobody told me.”
“You were a child.”
“I haven’t been a child for eighteen years.”
“Evelyn was afraid that if you knew, you would confront Richard before she had enough evidence.”
“She was right.”
Samuel nodded.
“That is precisely what frightened her.”
Claire walked to the wall and pressed her palms against the cold concrete.
Images from childhood returned in fragments.
Her mother whispering angrily into the telephone.
Richard entering the room and ending the call.
Elizabeth packing a suitcase one week before the accident.
Her father unpacking it while she cried.
Grandma Evelyn arriving at the house the night before Elizabeth died.
The two women speaking in the garden beneath heavy rain.
Claire had watched through the upstairs window.
Elizabeth had given Evelyn a small box.
Blue.
The music box.
Claire turned.
“The hidden compartment wasn’t built by Grandma.”
Samuel looked at her.
“No.”
“My mother put something inside it.”
“The cassette was Evelyn’s. The map and photograph may have belonged to Elizabeth.”
Claire unfolded the map of Rosewood House.
A red line had been drawn from the library to a sealed portion of the basement.
At the end of the line was a handwritten letter R.
“The rose vault,” Samuel said.
“What is inside?”
“Records. Original trust documents. Possibly the evidence Evelyn collected.”
“Then why haven’t you opened it?”
“It requires three keys.”
Claire held up the silver rose ring.
“One.”
Samuel nodded.
“The second is embedded in Evelyn’s cane.”
“And the third?”
“Was hidden inside Elizabeth’s check.”
Claire looked at the burned paper.
Samuel turned the evidence bag over.
A thin metal strip was fused beneath the remains.
“Can it still be used?”
“Possibly.”
“Then we go to Rosewood House.”
“Richard controls the property.”
“He buried packing foam instead of a body. I don’t care what he controls.”
Samuel stood slowly.
“You should care. Richard has hired private security, changed the locks, and removed most of Evelyn’s staff.”
“Then he’s searching for the vault too.”
“Without the ring, he cannot open it.”
Claire glanced at her hand.
The ring suddenly felt heavier.
A phone rang in the corner of the room.
Samuel froze.
“That line is not listed.”
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Pierce.”
A distorted voice spoke through the receiver.
Samuel’s eyes moved toward Claire.
“How did you get this number?”
The voice continued.
Samuel slowly lowered himself into the chair.
“When?”
He listened for several seconds, then hung up.
“What happened?” Claire asked.
Samuel looked at the clock.
“Marcus deposited his check twenty minutes ago.”
Claire remembered the quiet cousin who had folded his check and slipped it into his jacket.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the trust now has two active claimants.”
“I thought the first person became temporary executor.”
“You have not deposited yours yet.”
Claire stared at him.
“Then Marcus is first.”
Samuel looked at the burned check belonging to Elizabeth.
“No. Marcus did not deposit the check at Bellhaven Crown Bank.”
“Where did he take it?”
“To an offshore institution in the Cayman Islands.”
“Why?”
“Because someone told him it could be used to drain the trust before the audit begins.”
Claire felt anger replace shock.
“Who?”
Samuel opened a drawer and removed a tracking report.
Marcus had made three calls that morning.
One to an unknown international number.
One to Diane.
And one to Richard.
A red warning light appeared on Samuel’s computer.
Someone was attempting to access the building’s security system.
Samuel grabbed the evidence bag containing Elizabeth’s check.
“We need to leave.”
A metallic crash sounded from the garage.
Then another.
Claire heard men shouting.
Samuel opened a rear door leading into a service tunnel.
“Where does this go?”
“An alley behind the old courthouse.”
They hurried into the darkness.
Halfway down the tunnel, Samuel stumbled.
Claire caught him.
The bandage on his neck had begun bleeding again.
“Keep moving,” he said.
Behind them, the basement office door burst open.
Flashlights cut through the tunnel.
A man shouted, “Take the ring. Leave the girl.”
Samuel pushed the evidence bag into Claire’s hand.
“Run.”
Claire looked back.
Three armed men were approaching.
Samuel shoved her forward.
“Your mother died because she stopped to trust the wrong person,” he said. “Do not make the same mistake.”
Then he turned, closed the steel tunnel gate between them, and locked it from his side.
“Samuel!”
May you like
“Go!”
Claire ran toward the distant light as gunshots thundered behind her.
