Chapter 5 - Vault 317)
The intruder entered through the front door wearing the uniform of the doctor who had examined Claire.
For half a second, Claire thought the doctor had returned. Then she saw the man's shoulders, too broad beneath the white coat, and the black gloves on his hands.
Maya pulled Claire behind the stone fireplace. Brooke seized a brass lamp and swung it as the man crossed the threshold. The lamp struck his forearm. He knocked it away and reached inside his coat.
Maya drew a compact pistol from her handbag.
"Hands where I can see them."
The man stopped.
"Grant sent you?" Claire asked.
He looked at her belly, then at Maya's weapon. "I was sent to recover stolen property."
"By whom?"
The lights went out.
A shot exploded, deafening in the enclosed room. Glass broke. Claire crouched behind the fireplace, one hand shielding her stomach. Emergency lamps glowed along the floor, revealing the front door swinging shut.
The man was gone.
Maya still held the gun. A thin line of blood ran down Brooke's cheek where shattered glass had cut her.
"Did you hit him?" Claire asked.
"No. That shot came from outside. Someone was covering his escape."
Maya checked the hall, then locked the door manually. "We leave through the tunnel."
"There is a tunnel?"
"Your father believed in options."
Behind a shelving unit, a narrow staircase led to the basement of the neighboring building. They emerged into a laundry room and left through an alley in borrowed coats.
Claire did not tell Maya what Ryan had said. She trusted her attorney more than she trusted her husband, but that was no longer the same as trust.
At three in the morning, they sat in a twenty-four-hour diner under names Maya selected. Brooke cleaned the cut on her cheek. Claire studied the photograph and the key beneath the harsh fluorescent light.
"Northstar, October fourteen," she murmured. "Three seventeen."
Maya drank black coffee. "The obvious reading is a vault number."
"Ryan called it Vault 317."
"Then he knows the location."
"He said the photograph is the other half."
Brooke turned the burned image over. "There are indentations. Something was written on top of it."
They borrowed a pencil from the waitress and shaded the back lightly. Letters appeared between the old handwriting.
MERCER UNION BANK. LOWER MANHATTAN.
Maya's expression hardened. "That branch closed fifteen years ago. The private vaults were transferred when Eastern Crown Bank bought it."
"Where?"
"Their archive facility under the old customs building. It opens at eight."
Claire watched Maya carefully. "Have you been there?"
"Once, with your father."
Ryan's warning echoed in her mind.
"Why?"
"Samuel maintained a box there."
"Number 317?"
Maya set down her coffee. "I never saw the number."
Brooke's phone vibrated. A news alert filled the screen.
WHITMORE HEIRESS ABDUCTED FROM FAMILY PENTHOUSE.
Below the headline was a photograph of Brooke beside Claire. The article quoted Grant, who claimed his pregnant daughter-in-law had suffered a mental breakdown, attacked Ryan, and kidnapped Brooke with the help of an unidentified accomplice.
"He made us fugitives," Brooke said.
"He made himself careless," Maya replied. "False reports create records. Records create contradictions."
Claire read Ryan's public statement. He pleaded for his wife's safe return and said she had stopped taking prescribed medication.
She had never been prescribed psychiatric medication.
The betrayal was so complete that it steadied her. Ryan was not confused or trapped. He was building a legal cage around her before the police could hear her story.
"We go to the vault before Grant gets an order freezing my access," Claire said.
"The bank will recognize you," Maya warned.
"Good. Let them create another record."
At seven forty-five, Claire entered Eastern Crown Bank through the front doors in a plain black dress Maya had bought from an all-night shop. Brooke waited in the car. Maya walked half a block behind.
The bank manager met Claire in a private office. When Claire placed the brass key on his desk, his professional smile disappeared.
"Where did you obtain this?"
"It was entrusted to my family."
He examined her identification and made a phone call. Ten minutes later, two guards escorted Claire below street level into a corridor lined with steel doors.
Vault 317 was not a deposit box.
It was a private room.
The brass key opened the first lock. The manager entered a code for the second. Inside stood a table and a single red leather case.
Claire opened it.
There was no ledger.
There was a wedding ring engraved with the word NORTHSTAR, a cassette recorder, and a sealed letter addressed to CLAIRE MERCER, TO BE OPENED AFTER SAMUEL'S DEATH.
May you like
Her father's voice sounded from the recorder when she pressed play.
"Claire, if you are hearing this, I failed to stop Grant Whitmore. The person who gave you this key can lead you to Evelyn. But before you trust anyone, understand this: one of the people helping you is my killer."
