Chapter 3 - The Door at the Bottom of the Stairs)
Noah ran.
He was too small to be quiet when he was frightened.
His socks slid across the upstairs floor.
He reached his bedroom, pushed the door shut, and dove beneath the blanket with the airplane pressed to his chest.
Three seconds later, Mark entered.
Noah squeezed his eyes closed.
Mark stood beside the bed.
"You're awake."
Noah pretended not to hear.
"Sit up."
Slowly, he obeyed.
Mark saw the airplane.
"What were you doing downstairs?"
"Getting water."
"There's water in your bathroom."
Noah looked toward the bathroom door.
Mark sat on the edge of the bed.
"How much did you hear?"
Noah stared at him.
"Nothing."
"That's not true."
"I didn't."
"Noah."
The boy's breathing became shallow.
Mark extended one hand.
"The airplane."
Noah held it tighter.
"The airplane, Noah."
"Please."
Mark's voice became quiet.
"Now."
Noah gave it to him.
Mark examined the toy.
Then he noticed the crooked R carved into the side.
"Why an R?"
"For Richard."
"You call him Grandpa."
Noah nodded.
"But you wrote Richard?"
"Martha told me his airplane had his name painted on it."
Mark stared at him.
"Martha helps you talk about Grandpa a lot?"
"Sometimes."
"Does she ask you questions about us?"
Noah shook his head.
"Does she ask whether we punish you?"
"No."
"Does she ask whether you're scared?"
Noah was silent.
Mark's expression changed.
"Did she?"
"One time."
"What did you say?"
Noah remembered the afternoon.
He had been at Richard's estate after a family luncheon.
Mark had shouted at him in the car because Noah dropped a pastry on the leather seat.
Later Martha found him hiding beneath the piano.
She asked why.
Noah told her he was playing.
Martha had looked unconvinced.
Then she asked one question.
"Do you ever feel afraid to go home?"
Noah had said no.
Because his father had taught him what was private.
Now Mark waited.
"What did you tell her?"
"I said no."
Mark relaxed.
"Good."
He stood.
Noah pointed at the airplane.
"Can I have it?"
"Tomorrow."
"But Grandpa's birthday is tomorrow after tomorrow."
"Then you should have thought about that before listening at doors."
Mark walked away.
Noah climbed from bed.
"Dad?"
Mark stopped.
"Is Grandpa taking my money?"
Mark turned slowly.
"What?"
"You said my trust."
For the first time, genuine fear crossed Mark's face.
Noah did not know why.
"Who told you about a trust?"
"You did."
"I never told you anything."
"You were talking."
Mark returned to the bed.
"Listen carefully. A trust is just paperwork. It's money your grandfather put away for when you're older."
"How old?"
"Eighteen."
"Can I buy an airplane?"
Mark almost laughed.
"Maybe."
"Did you buy something with it?"
Silence.
Noah tilted his head.
Mark's face went blank again.
"Go to sleep."
He switched off the light.
The door closed.
Noah lay awake.
Across the hall, Mark entered the bedroom he shared with Claudia.
He lowered his voice.
"He heard us."
Claudia sat up.
"How much?"
"Enough to ask about the trust."
"What did you tell him?"
"That it's paperwork."
Claudia cursed under her breath.
"This is exactly what I warned you about."
"He is four."
"Four year olds repeat things."
Mark paced.
"We keep him close in Colorado. He doesn't spend five minutes alone with my father."
"And Martha?"
"She won't be there."
"She always goes."
"Not this time."
Mark had already arranged it.
That afternoon, Richard had planned for Martha to ride with him to Colorado.
Mark called her privately and told her Richard wanted her to remain at the estate because contractors were coming.
Martha believed him.
Richard assumed Martha preferred to stay.
It was a tiny lie.
Mark had become very good at tiny lies.
They were easier to hide than large ones.
The problem with tiny lies was that eventually there were too many.
The next morning, Martha called Richard.
"You sure you don't need me at the lodge?"
Richard stood in his office overlooking snow covered grounds.
"I thought Mark said you had contractors."
Martha frowned.
"What contractors?"
Richard became quiet.
"Mark told me you couldn't come because of contractors."
"No."
A pause.
Richard looked toward the photograph on his desk.
A much younger version of himself stood beside a small training airplane.
Next to it was a recent photograph of Noah wearing an oversized aviation cap.
"That's interesting," Richard said.
Martha knew his tone.
"What are you thinking?"
"I don't know yet."
"Richard."
He sighed.
"Something has been wrong with Mark for months."
"With Mark?"
"With Noah."
Martha lowered her voice.
"I've noticed it too."
Richard sat down.
"What?"
"He startles when adults move quickly."
Richard's hand tightened around the phone.
"Anything else?"
"He asked me once whether good boys still get punished."
Richard closed his eyes.
"What did you say?"
"I asked what he meant."
"And?"
"He changed the subject."
Richard stood again.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know whether I was seeing something that wasn't there."
Richard stared out the window.
"I asked Mark directly last month whether Noah was afraid of him."
"What did he say?"
"That Noah was going through a phase."
Martha was silent.
Richard continued.
"Then Mark lied to keep you away from Colorado."
"Maybe he misunderstood."
"Mark doesn't misunderstand details."
Martha knew that was true.
Richard's son had built his entire career on details.
Richard ended the call.
Then he opened a drawer in his desk.
Inside lay a folder his attorney had delivered two days earlier.
The label read:
NOAH BELLACORTE TRUST ACCOUNT REVIEW.
Richard opened it.
The first page contained a number.
The second contained transfers.
The third contained purchases.
One payment was for a luxury vehicle.
Another was for renovations to Mark's house.
Another had gone toward a private club membership.
All of it had come from an account created for Noah.
Richard slowly sat down.
The trustees listed were Richard and Mark.
Richard had never authorized those withdrawals.
He picked up the phone.
His attorney answered.
"Daniel Price."
"Daniel."
"Richard."
"I want every transaction traced."
"I've already started."
"How bad?"
There was a pause.
"We don't know yet."
"How soon will you know?"
"After the weekend."
Richard looked at Noah's photograph.
"No."
"Richard?"
"I want preliminary numbers today."
"You're leaving for Colorado."
"Then call me in the car."
Daniel hesitated.
"There's one more thing."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"What?"
"Some of the signatures attributed to you don't match."
Richard became completely still.
"Are you saying Mark forged my authorization?"
"I'm saying I want a forensic examiner to tell me what I'm looking at before I accuse anyone."
Richard closed the folder.
"When you know, you call me."
He hung up.
Two hundred miles away, Mark received a notification on his laptop.
Someone had accessed the trust records.
He stared at the screen.
Then he looked toward Claudia.
May you like
"My father knows."
And in the hallway, Noah stood holding the wooden airplane, unaware that the birthday trip to Colorado had just become far more dangerous.
