Chapter 10 - The Man in the Locked Room
Luca and Antoine climbed the stairs together.
Margaret followed despite Claire’s attempt to stop her.
The hallway was dim.
At the far end stood a locked bedroom that had not been used in years.
The property manager once said the room contained damaged furniture.
Now light showed beneath the door.
Antoine tried the handle.
Locked.
“Who has the key?” Luca asked.
Hélène stood behind them.
“Philippe.”
Antoine struck the lock with the fireplace poker.
It held.
Luca handed the rifle to Margaret, stepped back, and kicked beside the handle.
The wood splintered on the third attempt.
The door flew inward.
A man sat on the floor with his back against the bed.
His hands were bound.
Silver duct tape covered his mouth.
Blood stained one side of his shirt.
Claire gasped.
Hélène whispered, “Armand.”
Armand Voss was in his late fifties, with a narrow face and thinning gray hair. One eye was swollen shut.
Antoine removed the tape.
Armand coughed.
“Lock the door.”
“We just broke it,” Luca said.
“Then block it. He may come back.”
“Who?”
Armand looked at Hélène.
“Your husband.”
They carried him downstairs.
Margaret cleaned the wound, which appeared to come from a shallow knife cut rather than a gunshot.
“Philippe did this?” Luca asked.
Armand shook his head.
“I never saw the attacker clearly. But Philippe ordered me to come here.”
“Why?”
“To recover the key before Antoine arrived.”
Claire looked at him with disgust.
“You entered our apartment.”
“Yes.”
“You searched my books.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find anything?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was looking for documents, not a key.”
Antoine crouched in front of him.
“Who stole the envelope?”
“I do not know.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
Armand’s good eye narrowed.
“You arrived with a boat no one heard. You had documents that should have remained sealed. Perhaps you arranged the theft.”
Antoine grabbed his collar.
Luca pulled him back.
“We need facts.”
Armand breathed painfully.
He had worked for Philippe for sixteen years.
Three weeks earlier, Philippe instructed him to search Claire and Luca’s apartment for materials connected to Julien Moreau.
Yesterday, Philippe ordered him to the lake house to disable the cameras and find a brass key.
Armand arrived before dinner and entered through a service door.
But someone attacked him upstairs.
“When did you regain consciousness?” Margaret asked.
“During dinner. I heard voices below.”
“Why didn’t you make noise?”
“The attacker returned.”
Everyone fell silent.
“During the blackout?” Claire asked.
“Before. He stood outside the room. I could see his shoes beneath the door.”
“What kind?”
“Black boots. Mud along the soles.”
Antoine looked toward the terrace.
The intruder Claire saw wore black.
“Did he say anything?” Luca asked.
“One sentence.”
“What?”
Armand looked at Margaret.
“He said, ‘She still thinks David was protecting her.’”
Margaret sat very still.
The same subject as Julien’s recording.
David Bennett.
The husband who vanished.
The man Philippe met in Montreal.
“Is David alive?” Claire asked.
Armand’s expression shifted.
“I do not know.”
“You work in private intelligence.”
“I worked in corporate security.”
“You investigated my family.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me what you found.”
Armand looked toward Hélène.
She nodded once.
He began.
David Bennett had not left Margaret voluntarily.
In 1996, shortly before Claire’s birth, he received photographs of Margaret being followed. The envelope also contained a copy of Julien’s supposed death certificate and a warning that Claire would be harmed if David remained.
David tried to report the threats.
The local police found no evidence.
A week later, he disappeared.
Margaret received divorce papers through an attorney.
She signed them without ever speaking to David.
“The signature on his side was forged,” Armand said.
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“All these years, I thought he left because I had lied to him.”
“He was moved through witness protection under an unofficial arrangement.”
“Unofficial?”
“Someone inside a federal agency owed Julien a favor.”
Claire leaned forward.
“Where is he now?”
“Until last month, Quebec.”
“What happened in Montreal?”
Armand hesitated.
“Philippe went there to buy something from him.”
“The documents?” Luca asked.
“No.”
“What, then?”
“A blood sample.”
Margaret frowned.
“Whose blood?”
“David’s.”
Claire stared at him.
“Why?”
Armand looked at Luca.
“To prove Claire is not David Bennett’s daughter.”
The room went silent.
Margaret’s face emptied of color.
“That is impossible.”
Armand continued reluctantly.
“Philippe believed Claire might be Julien Moreau’s child.”
Luca stood abruptly.
“No.”
Claire looked at her mother.
Margaret shook her head again and again.
“The dates do not match.”
“Did you ever see Claire’s full hospital records?” Armand asked.
Margaret opened her mouth.
No answer came.
Claire felt the floor shift beneath her.
May you like
If Julien were her father, then Luca was not merely Margaret’s lost son.
He was Claire’s brother.
