Chapter 7 - The Missing Father)
Vanessa stopped screaming only when the police showed her the photographs.
Blood.
Car.
Open door.
No body.
Her anger collapsed into fear.
"My father wouldn't leave his car."
Detective Lena Torres watched her carefully.
"Did he have enemies?"
Vanessa laughed once.
"My father was a billionaire."
"So yes."
"Everyone has enemies."
"Anyone specific?"
Vanessa looked through the glass wall of the hotel security office.
Eleanor sat beside Noah.
Adrian stood near the window.
"Ask them."
Torres followed her gaze.
"The Vales?"
"My father spent thirty years doing business with that family."
"Was he involved with Victor Vale?"
Vanessa stiffened.
"Who told you that?"
Torres did not answer.
In the next room, Noah was being questioned by another detective.
He told the truth.
Vanessa had stepped on his hand.
She had poured wine on him.
Marcus had appeared.
Marcus had run.
Richard had whispered to Adrian.
The detective wrote everything down.
"Do you think Richard Carlisle hurt your mother?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think Marcus Shaw did?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think anyone in the Vale family did?"
Noah looked at Eleanor through the glass.
"I don't know."
That answer frightened him most.
After the police left, Eleanor took Noah back to the mansion.
Adrian arrived an hour later.
"You should send him away," Adrian said.
Noah was standing in the doorway.
Adrian saw him.
"I meant somewhere secure."
"No," Noah said. "You meant away."
Adrian smiled.
"You're observant."
"You're Victor's son."
"Correct."
"My mother thought Victor stole money."
Adrian's smile disappeared.
"Your mother thought many things."
"Did your father kill her?"
Eleanor stood.
"Enough."
Adrian looked at Noah for a long moment.
"My father died believing Grace destroyed our family."
"That wasn't my question."
"No."
Adrian stepped closer.
"My father did not kill your mother."
"How do you know?"
"Because on the night Grace disappeared, my father was with me."
"Where?"
"Boston."
"Can anyone prove that?"
"I was twelve."
"That's not proof."
Adrian looked at Eleanor.
"He really is Grace's son."
Noah crossed his arms.
"What did Richard mean when he said it wasn't the plan?"
Adrian's face remained calm.
"I don't know."
"You answered him."
"I don't remember."
"It was four hours ago."
Adrian shrugged.
"A lot happened."
Noah stepped closer.
"You're lying."
Adrian leaned down slightly.
"So is everyone else."
Then he left.
At two in the morning, Noah could not sleep.
He walked through the mansion and found Eleanor in the library.
She was holding Grace's photograph.
"Did Adrian's father really hate Mom?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Grace accused him publicly."
"Was she right?"
"I don't know."
Noah laughed softly.
"Your favorite answer."
Eleanor looked tired.
"We found money in Victor's accounts."
"Then he did it."
"We found too much."
Noah frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"Someone wanted us to find it."
Noah sat across from her.
"You think he was framed."
"I think Victor stole some money. I think someone used his theft to hide something larger."
"How much larger?"
Eleanor looked toward the fire.
"Possibly hundreds of millions."
Noah whistled.
"And Mom figured it out."
"Maybe."
"Then she disappeared."
"Yes."
"And Victor died a year later."
"Yes."
"Boating accident."
Eleanor met his eyes.
"That's what the report says."
Noah leaned back.
"How many people connected to this mystery have disappeared?"
Eleanor did not answer.
His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
DO NOT SLEEP IN THAT HOUSE TONIGHT.
Noah showed Eleanor.
She immediately called security.
"Trace it."
Minutes later, the head of security returned.
"The message originated inside the property."
Eleanor stared.
"Inside?"
"Yes."
"From where?"
The man hesitated.
"The east wing."
Grace's old bedroom.
They ran upstairs.
The door was locked.
Security opened it.
The room had been preserved exactly as Grace left it.
Books.
Records.
Photographs.
A white desk.
On that desk sat a phone.
Its screen was still lit.
Noah approached slowly.
There was one outgoing message.
The warning sent to him.
Eleanor whispered, "Nobody has entered this room in years."
Noah looked toward the open window.
Cold air moved the curtains.
Then he saw something carved into the wooden desk.
Fresh marks.
Three letters.
G.R.V.
Grace Reed Vale.
May you like
And beneath them:
I'M SORRY, NOAH.
