Chapter 6 - The Night of the Ravine
Grant's mother had been dead for nine years.
Eleanor Whitmore had lived with Alzheimer's during the final four.
By the time Grant understood enough to ask questions about Elizabeth, Eleanor no longer remembered the answers.
Now Charles was telling him she had been involved.
"What did Mom do?"
"I don't know."
"You saw her with Marianne."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Outside your grandfather's office."
"What time?"
"About ten thirty."
Elizabeth's final call to Thomas had been at 11:43.
"What were they doing?"
"Arguing."
"About Elizabeth?"
"I heard her name."
Grant paced.
"Why didn't you tell investigators?"
"Because your mother begged me not to."
Grant turned.
"You protected her."
"I loved her."
"That isn't an answer."
Charles closed his eyes.
"No. It isn't."
He reached inside his jacket and removed an old key.
"Your mother gave me this two days before she died."
Grant took it.
"What does it open?"
"The study at the old estate."
"The room has been empty for years."
"Not the room."
Charles looked at him.
"The floor safe beneath Elizabeth's desk."
Grant stared.
"Why haven't you opened it?"
"I tried."
"And?"
"The lock requires two keys."
"Where's the other?"
Charles looked toward the elevator where Vanessa had disappeared.
"Marianne had it."
Grant remembered the pendant.
"What if the pendant is a key?"
Charles's eyes narrowed.
"The pendant is too small."
"Unless part of it separates."
They drove to Grant's sister's apartment.
Rachel opened the door.
Lily ran toward Grant.
He dropped to one knee and lifted her.
"You okay?"
"Daddy."
He kissed her forehead.
"No Vanessa."
"No Vanessa."
Lily touched his face.
Then she looked at Charles.
"Grandpa."
Charles smiled sadly.
Rachel approached.
"The pendant is safe."
Grant looked at her.
"You know where it is?"
Rachel nodded.
"Lily put it inside her stuffed rabbit."
Grant almost laughed from relief.
Rachel brought the toy.
A small seam beneath one ear had been opened.
Inside was the pendant.
Grant examined it under the kitchen light.
Charles took out his glasses.
"Turn it."
Grant rotated the pendant.
Along the engraved initials was a tiny notch.
He pressed it.
The back plate slid outward.
Inside was a thin metal piece shaped like a narrow key.
Charles stared.
"Oh my God."
Grant removed it carefully.
"Second key."
Charles nodded.
Rachel looked between them.
"What is happening?"
Grant placed the pendant back into the stuffed rabbit.
"Hopefully the end of something that should have ended eighteen years ago."
He left Lily with Rachel and his sister.
Before Grant walked out, Lily grabbed his sleeve.
"No wedding?"
Grant paused.
The question came from a child too young to understand marriage but old enough to understand tension.
Grant kissed her.
"No wedding."
Lily smiled.
It was the first relaxed smile he had seen from her in days.
The old Whitmore estate stood two hours north of Manhattan.
It had been empty for almost seven years.
Grant and Charles arrived shortly after sunset.
Rain had begun.
The mansion looked exactly as Grant remembered from childhood.
Stone walls.
Long windows.
Dark gardens.
The study smelled of dust and old wood.
Elizabeth's desk remained beneath a covered portrait.
Grant moved it.
The floor panel underneath revealed a steel safe.
Two keyholes.
Charles inserted Eleanor's key.
Grant inserted the metal strip from the pendant.
Both turned.
The safe opened.
Inside were three leather ledgers.
A cassette tape.
Several envelopes.
And a sealed letter addressed to Thomas.
Grant opened the first ledger.
Whitmore Foundation transfers.
Millions diverted into private accounts.
Signatures belonging to Grant's grandfather.
Proof.
Charles sat down.
"My God."
Grant picked up the cassette.
"Do we have anything that plays this?"
Charles pointed toward an old cabinet.
Inside was a tape recorder.
Grant inserted the cassette.
Static filled the room.
Then Elizabeth's voice.
Grant had forgotten the exact sound of it.
Bright.
Confident.
Alive.
"If anyone is listening to this, something has happened to me."
Charles covered his mouth.
Elizabeth continued.
"My father knows Thomas and I discovered the accounts. But he is not the person I fear most."
Grant looked at Charles.
The recording crackled.
"The person helping him is someone close to me. Someone who believes protecting the Whitmore name matters more than protecting people."
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Grant stopped the tape.
Charles stood.
"Did you hear that?"
Grant moved toward the door.
A woman stood at the end of the corridor.
Mid forties.
Pale blond hair.
Gray blue eyes.
The same woman from the pendant photograph, older now.
Claire.
She looked exhausted.
"Don't turn that tape back on."
Grant stared.
"Claire Cole?"
She nodded.
Charles whispered, "You called me."
Claire entered.
Her eyes fell on the open safe.
"You found it."
Grant held up the pendant key.
"Lily did."
Claire almost smiled.
Then headlights swept across the windows.
Another car had arrived.
Claire's expression changed instantly.
"Who did you tell?"
"No one."
Charles moved toward the window.
Grant looked outside.
Vanessa stepped from the car.
Claire backed away.
"No."
Grant turned.
"What?"
Claire's breathing quickened.
"You shouldn't have brought her here."
"We didn't."
Claire stared at him.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
She pointed toward the tape recorder.
"Elizabeth was not talking about your grandfather."
Grant waited.
Claire looked directly at Charles.
"She was talking about Eleanor."
Charles went completely still.
Before anyone could speak, the study door opened.
Vanessa stood there.
May you like
Wet from the rain.
And in her hand was a pistol.
