Chapter 13 - The Funeral Guest
Harold refused to explain until they were inside the trust’s secure office.
Nora almost lost patience.
Finally he placed an old photograph on the table.
Three young men stood beside Eleanor’s husband Thomas.
Richard Bennett.
Harold Whitman.
And another man.
Nora recognized the man from the funeral.
Older now.
Thinner.
But unmistakable.
“Who is he?”
“Samuel Cross.”
Nora stared.
“Cross?”
Harold nodded.
“Daniel’s older brother.”
Nora sank into a chair.
“I have an uncle?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Samuel Cross was declared dead twenty years ago.”
Nora almost laughed.
“Of course he was.”
Harold accepted the sarcasm.
“Boat accident. No body recovered.”
“Did Grandma know he was alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“Not until six months ago.”
“Why was he at the funeral?”
“He insisted.”
“Where is he now?”
Harold hesitated.
Nora stood.
“No more.”
“Nora.”
“No more deciding whether I can handle the truth.”
Harold nodded slowly.
“He is in a secure medical facility.”
“Why?”
“Because someone tried to kill him four months ago.”
Kevin’s database had reached Eleanor around the same time.
Nora understood.
“Samuel helped Grandma.”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“Decoding Project Harbor.”
Nora’s anger rose.
“You knew all this when I walked into the will reading?”
“I knew pieces.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Samuel would not allow it.”
“He doesn’t get to decide.”
“He believed Daniel may still be alive.”
Nora stopped.
Everything inside her went silent.
“What?”
Harold met her eyes.
“Samuel believes your father survived.”
Nora gripped the chair.
“Based on what?”
“A message.”
“What message?”
Harold took out his phone.
He opened a photograph of a handwritten note.
SAM, THEY FOUND RACHEL FIRST.
I WON’T LET THEM FIND NORA.
D.
Date: eight months after Rachel’s death.
Nora read it three times.
“Where did he get this?”
“Delivered anonymously.”
“Twenty-one years ago?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody told me?”
“Samuel disappeared shortly afterward.”
“Why?”
“He believed Hale was looking for him.”
Nora stared at Harold.
“Is Victor Hale still alive?”
“We don’t know.”
The answer felt insufficient.
They drove to the medical facility that evening.
Samuel Cross sat beside a window overlooking Lake Michigan.
He looked seventy.
He was actually sixty-eight.
Illness and fear had aged him.
When Nora entered, his face collapsed.
“Rachel.”
Nora stopped.
He covered his mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
She approached.
“I’m Nora.”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“I know.”
He cried before she did.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then Samuel reached for her hand.
“You have Daniel’s hands.”
Nora looked down.
Nobody had ever told her she resembled her father.
She had no reference.
No childhood stories.
No family resemblance except Rachel.
“Is he alive?”
Samuel looked toward Harold.
Then Nora.
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t what Harold said.”
“I believe he was alive fourteen years ago.”
“Why?”
Samuel reached toward a drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
A man walking through an airport.
Date stamp: fourteen years earlier.
The face was partly turned.
Nora recognized Daniel from the photograph Eleanor had hidden.
“That’s him.”
“I believe so.”
“Where?”
“Lisbon.”
“Portugal?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing there?”
“Following Hale.”
Nora sat.
Samuel told the story.
Daniel discovered Harbor while working for Bennett security.
Rachel found accounting irregularities.
Together they realized Thomas Bennett had created a private network years earlier.
At first it handled corporate intelligence.
Then intimidation.
Then settlements.
Then disappearances.
Victor Hale operated it.
After Thomas died, Hale continued using Bennett companies.
Richard discovered parts of the operation.
Instead of exposing it, he profited.
Rachel threatened to go to federal investigators.
Daniel tried to protect her.
Hale moved first.
Daniel was abducted.
But escaped.
“Why didn’t he come back?” Nora asked.
“Because he believed Rachel was being watched.”
“She died anyway.”
Samuel closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“We never proved it.”
“Car accident?”
Samuel looked at her.
“The truck driver disappeared three days later.”
Nora stopped breathing.
“Police?”
“Never found him.”
“Name?”
Samuel whispered.
“Victor Hale.”
Nora stared.
“Hale drove the truck?”
“Using another identity.”
Harold looked shocked.
“You never told Eleanor that.”
“I never had proof.”
Nora stood.
“Where is the proof now?”
Samuel pointed toward the brass key hanging from Nora’s hand.
“Your grandmother gave you that?”
“Yes.”
Samuel smiled sadly.
“Then she found it.”
“Found what?”
“The second archive.”
Nora stared.
“There’s another archive?”
“Not another.”
Samuel shook his head.
“The original.”
“Where?”
Samuel looked toward Lake Michigan.
“Your grandfather built it before anyone in the family understood what Harbor would become.”
Nora felt the shape of another door opening.
May you like
Samuel continued.
“And if Eleanor gave you the key, then she believed you were finally ready to see why your mother was killed.”
