Chapter 6 - THE BROTHER BEHIND THE EMPIRERichard Whitmore did not answer his phone.
His Manhattan apartment was empty.
His driver claimed he had not seen him in two days.
His private jet remained at Teterboro Airport.
At 9:17 p.m., Marcus discovered something worse.
Richard’s company access badge had entered Whitmore Global at 5:42 that morning.
It had never been scanned out.
“He’s still here?” Preston asked.
“Or somebody used his badge,” Marcus replied.
Eleanor stood in the security control room watching footage from nearly three hundred cameras.
Vanessa sat nearby wrapped in a blanket, the angry red mark from Alan’s arm visible across her neck.
Preston remained on the opposite side of the room.
He had not spoken directly to her for forty minutes.
Some wounds were too fresh for conversation.
Eleanor understood.
She had just learned her dead husband had concealed a murder investigation.
She wasn’t ready to forgive anyone either.
“Show me Richard entering,” she said.
Marcus pulled up the recording.
5:42 a.m.
Richard appeared through the underground garage.
Seventy-four years old.
Silver-haired.
Expensive overcoat.
Walking cane.
Eleanor knew that walk.
She had watched it at birthdays, funerals, Christmas dinners.
“He came alone.”
Marcus zoomed in.
Richard entered a private elevator.
“Where did he go?”
“Executive floors.”
“After that?”
“No camera sightings.”
“Impossible.”
“Unless he knew where the blind spots were.”
Charles muttered, “He helped design the security renovations.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Of course he did.”
Eleanor turned toward her.
“Tell me everything Gavin discovered.”
Vanessa hesitated.
“No more secrets.”
The old woman’s voice carried such authority that Vanessa finally nodded.
“Gavin spent seven years investigating Dad.”
“Why?”
“Because our mother died believing Dad abandoned us.”
Vanessa stared at her hands.
“Her last words to Gavin were, ‘Find out why he left.’”
She swallowed.
“So Gavin did.”
He found old bank records.
Fake consulting companies.
Employees who had mysteriously received promotions after Thomas vanished.
Three former Whitmore accountants had died under unusual circumstances.
One drowned.
One died in what police ruled an accidental house fire.
A third disappeared while traveling through Mexico.
“Gavin believed somebody was eliminating people who knew about the scheme.”
Preston leaned against the wall.
“And you started dating me to get inside.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The charity gala two years ago.”
“You spilled champagne on me.”
“Intentionally.”
Despite everything, Eleanor nearly smiled.
Preston didn’t.
“Every conversation?”
“At first, yes.”
“Every weekend?”
“No.”
“Moving into my apartment?”
“Preston…”
“Was there a point when I stopped being part of your investigation?”
Vanessa looked up.
“Yes.”
“When?”
She whispered, “Before you asked me to move in.”
He looked away.
“You should have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of losing you.”
Preston laughed sadly.
“You chose the one method guaranteed to do exactly that.”
Silence filled the room.
Eleanor walked over.
“Personal betrayals can wait.”
They both looked at her.
“If Richard is responsible, Gavin may be dying while we discuss our feelings.”
Vanessa stood immediately.
“You’re right.”
Marcus received a radio call.
“Found something.”
He switched cameras.
A service corridor beneath the building.
One door stood open.
“Records storage.”
They hurried downstairs.
Inside, cabinets had been ripped open.
Files covered the floor.
At the back, they found a bloodstain.
Vanessa stopped.
“Gavin.”
Marcus crouched.
“Maybe.”
A second officer called from behind shelves.
“Sir.”
They found a shoe.
Men’s.
Blood along the heel.
Vanessa recognized it.
“My brother’s.”
She covered her mouth.
Preston moved beside her instinctively.
This time she didn’t pull away.
Eleanor looked around.
“Where could someone take him without passing cameras?”
Marcus pointed toward an old freight corridor.
“It connects to loading docks and underground utility tunnels.”
Charles frowned.
“Those tunnels were closed fifteen years ago.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Richard never closes anything useful.”
They followed.
The corridor smelled of dust and concrete.
At the end was a steel door.
Locked.
Marcus forced it open.
Behind it was a room nobody on security knew existed.
Tables.
Old computers.
Financial records.
Photographs.
Twenty-four years of secrets.
Vanessa rushed toward a wall.
Her father’s photograph was pinned there.
Beside it were photographs of other people.
Former employees.
Accountants.
Investigators.
Eleanor.
Preston.
Vanessa.
Gavin.
Even Charles.
Every one dated.
Tracked.
Observed.
“My God,” Charles whispered.
Eleanor stepped closer.
There were dozens of photographs of Henry.
One showed Henry arguing with Richard outside Thomas Rourke’s home.
Vanessa stared at it.
Her entire childhood memory rearranged itself.
“My father…”
Eleanor saw another photograph.
Thomas Rourke was alive.
The date printed beneath it was six months after his supposed death.
Vanessa began trembling.
“No.”
She pulled it from the wall.
“That’s Dad.”
The man was older.
Thin.
Standing outside a motel.
“He survived.”
Charles stared.
“Then why didn’t he return?”
A voice behind them answered.
“Because I made sure he couldn’t.”
Everyone turned.
Richard Whitmore stood in the doorway.
No cane.
No weakness.
A pistol in his hand.
Two armed men stood behind him.
Eleanor looked at the brother-in-law she had known for fifty years.
“Richard.”
He smiled.
“Ellie.”
Nobody had called her that except Henry.
Her face hardened.
“Where is Gavin?”
“Alive.”
Vanessa lunged forward.
“Where?”
Richard raised the gun.
Preston stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
Richard studied his grandnephew.
“You look remarkably like Henry when you’re frightened.”
Preston clenched his jaw.
“You stole from us.”
Richard laughed.
“Us?”
He looked around.
“My brother spent his entire life treating this company like his personal monument.”
“Because he built it,” Eleanor said.
“With my money.”
Eleanor frowned.
Richard’s smile vanished.
“Our father left both of us an inheritance. Henry convinced me to invest mine.”
“He gave you stock.”
“Six percent.”
“You agreed.”
“I was twenty-two!”
“So was Henry.”
That struck him.
Richard’s eyes darkened.
“He became a legend. I became Henry Whitmore’s younger brother.”
Eleanor understood.
Not money.
Not entirely.
Resentment.
Fifty years of it.
“You ruined Thomas Rourke because you hated Henry.”
“I ruined Thomas because he discovered me.”
Vanessa made a strangled sound.
“You killed my father.”
Richard looked at her.
“No.”
She froze.
“He was alive after the river photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Richard smiled.
“That is the question, isn’t it?”
Vanessa surged forward again.
Preston restrained her.
Richard continued.
“Thomas escaped the first attempt. Clever man. He disappeared.”
“Then you don’t know whether he’s alive.”
“I didn’t.”
Richard nodded toward the photographs.
“Until Gavin found him.”
Vanessa stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Your brother succeeded where everyone else failed.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Dad is alive?”
Richard’s smile widened.
“At least he was yesterday.”
Vanessa’s knees nearly gave way.
“Where?”
“Gavin refused to tell me.”
The truth crashed through the room.
Gavin wasn’t attacked because he had discovered Richard.
He was attacked because he had discovered Thomas.
Richard raised the pistol.
“And now you’re going to help me persuade him.”
Eleanor stared at him.
“No.”
Richard aimed the weapon at her.
“Eleanor, you have always underestimated me.”
“No.”
She stepped toward him.
“I finally understand you.”
His smile disappeared.
“You spent fifty years believing Henry stole your life.”
She looked at the hidden room.
“But all you built was a basement full of photographs of people who actually lived theirs.”
Richard’s face twisted.
May you like
For the first time, Eleanor saw exactly how dangerous he was.
Then a gunshot exploded through the room.
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