Chapter 9 - the woman who borrowed claire’s face
The photograph was too old to enlarge clearly.
The woman’s face remained hidden beneath the hat’s shadow, but every other detail had been chosen to resemble Claire.
Same hairstyle.
Same coat.
Same narrow silver watch Claire wore in college.
Someone had studied her.
“Can you identify the bank employee who admitted them?” Ortiz asked.
Mr. Han checked the record.
“The employee was Jonathan Pike.”
“Where is he now?”
“He retired nine years ago.”
“Address?”
“I’ll need authorization.”
Ortiz called her supervisor.
While she worked, Claire stared at the photograph.
Andrew’s posture disturbed her.
He did not appear deceived.
He stood close to the woman, one hand resting near her back.
He knew she was not Claire.
So why had he brought someone disguised as her into the vault?
Mr. Han placed another image on the screen.
It showed Andrew and the woman leaving thirty-two minutes later.
This time, the woman’s hand was visible.
On her ring finger was a gold Vale crest ring.
Claire thought of Margaret.
“She had access to the family ring.”
Ortiz looked closer.
“Margaret?”
“The height is wrong.”
The woman in the photograph was closer to Sabrina’s height, but Sabrina would have been a teenager at the time.
“Could it be Sabrina’s mother?” Ortiz asked.
Sabrina’s mother, Victoria, had disappeared from family life after a bitter divorce. Officially, she lived in Europe.
Claire remembered almost nothing about her.
“I don’t know.”
Mr. Han returned with an address for Jonathan Pike.
They found him in a retirement community thirty minutes outside the city.
Pike was eighty-one and used a cane, but his memory was sharp.
When Claire showed him Andrew’s photograph, he refused to speak.
Ortiz placed her badge on the table.
“A child was harmed yesterday. The missing credential from this vault may be connected.”
Pike looked at Claire.
“You’re really her daughter’s mother.”
“Yes.”
“I wondered if you would ever come.”
“Who was the woman with Andrew?”
Pike closed the curtains before answering.
“She called herself Claire.”
“She wasn’t me.”
“I know that now.”
“You verified her fingerprint.”
“It was in the bank system. I followed protocol.”
“How?”
Pike’s hands trembled on the cane.
“Andrew told me the company had developed a method of creating biometric duplicates for high-security testing.”
Ortiz frowned.
“Artificial fingerprints?”
“I didn’t ask questions.”
“You should have.”
“I had two children in college and a mortgage. Vale Life Sciences paid well for silence.”
Claire placed the photograph on the table.
“What did they put inside box 417?”
“Andrew brought a small black case. The woman brought legal documents.”
“What documents?”
“A revised trust.”
Claire’s heart sank.
“Did they replace the original trust?”
“No. Andrew insisted both versions remain in the box.”
“Why?”
Pike looked toward the window.
“He said one was real and one was bait.”
“Which was which?”
“I don’t know.”
Ortiz asked, “Did he say who the woman was?”
Pike hesitated.
“Not directly.”
“What did he call her?”
Pike’s gaze returned to Claire.
“He called her Mother.”
Claire felt the room tilt.
“Margaret was too tall to be that woman.”
“I never said he was speaking to the woman.”
“Then who?”
Pike pointed toward the old photograph.
“Someone else was in the vault.”
Mr. Han’s records showed only two visitors, but Pike remembered three.
Andrew.
The disguised woman.
And a third person who never passed through the public entrance.
“He was already waiting inside,” Pike said.
“Who was he?” Ortiz asked.
Pike’s face went pale.
“Daniel Mercer.”
Before Claire could ask another question, a loud crack came from outside.
The living-room window shattered.
Ortiz pulled Claire to the floor.
A metal object struck the opposite wall and rolled beneath the table.
It was not a weapon.
It was Harper’s missing crescent bracelet.
Wrapped around it was a strip of paper.
Claire unfolded the message.
May you like
Box 417 opens at midnight.
Bring the child, or the real Claire Morgan dies.
