Chapter 4 - THE MAN ROMAN CALLED BROTHERRoman's hand covered the back of my head as another shot exploded above us.
Naomi dropped beside the steel desk.
Maya crawled behind a filing cabinet.
“Stay here,” Roman whispered.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Absolutely not.”
“Elise—”
“You already made one disastrous decision without consulting me this week.”
Even in the dark, I could feel his stare.
Another crash came from the library.
Then Adrian's voice.
“Mr. Vale!”
Roman moved toward the door.
I followed.
He turned.
“No.”
“Stop trying to protect me by making decisions for me.”
His face tightened.
The words hit exactly where I intended.
Naomi spoke from behind us.
“She has a point.”
“Not helping.”
We heard footsteps.
Then Adrian appeared at the bottom of the staircase, weapon raised.
“Clear.”
Roman exhaled.
“What happened?”
“Someone fired through the library window from the garden.”
“Target?”
“The archive entrance.”
Adrian looked at me.
“Whoever fired knew exactly where you were.”
That was impossible.
We had entered through the private garage.
No press.
No staff except Adrian.
And yet someone knew.
Naomi emerged.
“We have a leak.”
Adrian's expression darkened.
“Not from my team.”
“You thought Mrs. Vale stole four million dollars yesterday.”
He absorbed that without flinching.
“Fair.”
Roman walked upstairs first.
The bullet had shattered one of the tall library windows.
On the opposite wall, plaster had exploded six feet above the hidden staircase.
The shooter wasn't trying to hit us.
They were sending a message.
Or trying to destroy something.
Police arrived within minutes.
By three thirty, Vale House was crawling with detectives.
I sat in the breakfast room while Detective Lena Torres examined my threatening messages.
Torres was compact, direct, and unimpressed by wealth.
I liked her immediately.
“You received these after leaving the gala?”
“Yes.”
“And this photograph of your mother was taken this morning?”
“Yes.”
“She's safe?”
“She is with two officers now.”
Roman had offered private security.
I had refused.
For the moment, I trusted the NYPD more than anyone on Vale payroll.
Torres slid the phone back.
“Do you believe Julian Vale is responsible?”
“I believe someone wants us to believe he is.”
Roman looked at me.
“That letter named him.”
“No. Your father's letter said the danger would come from the person you considered your brother.”
“That is Julian.”
“Maybe.”
Naomi nodded approvingly.
I continued.
“Your father was frightened enough to build a secret archive, but vague enough to avoid writing a name. Why?”
Roman had no answer.
“Maybe he wasn't certain,” Maya said.
“Or maybe,” Naomi replied, “he knew the letter could eventually be found.”
Torres looked toward Roman.
“Where is Julian?”
“At the hospital with Lenora.”
“Since when?”
“Since last night.”
Torres stood.
“Then let's have a conversation with him.”
Julian arrived at Vale House voluntarily forty minutes later.
He looked nothing like Roman.
Where Roman was dark, controlled, and physically imposing, Julian was blond, elegant, and disarmingly warm.
That warmth had made him successful.
People told Julian things because he made them feel understood.
He hugged Eleanor when he arrived.
He nodded to Roman.
Then he saw me.
“Elise.”
I watched his face carefully.
“You've had an eventful twenty-four hours.”
“That's one description.”
His gaze moved to the broken window.
“Are you all right?”
“Are you?”
He smiled slightly.
“Interesting question.”
Torres interviewed him in Roman's study.
We waited outside.
Roman stood beside the fireplace, staring into flames that did not need to be burning.
“You really think my father could have meant someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Roman rubbed his forehead.
“Julian grew up in this house.”
“I know.”
“My uncle died when Julian was eight. My father practically raised him.”
“I know.”
“He was best man at our wedding.”
“I know.”
Roman turned to me.
“Do you realize how many times you've said ‘I know’ since last night?”
“Probably fewer times than I've thought ‘I warned you.’”
He took that quietly.
Then said, “You did.”
I looked at him.
“About Lenora?”
“About the family.”
Three years earlier, I had told Roman that Vale family loyalty wasn't loyalty.
It was a system of debts.
Eleanor reminded Roman she had sacrificed everything after his father's death.
Lenora reminded him she had saved the company during the recession.
Julian reminded him they had grown up together.
Everyone gave.
Everyone collected.
Roman was at the center, wealthy enough to believe he controlled the system.
He didn't.
“The company taught me to suspect motives,” he said. “I started applying that to everyone.”
“Including me.”
“Yes.”
“And you don't see how dangerous that is until now?”
“I see it.”
“Good.”
I turned away.
“Seeing it doesn't repair it.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
Detective Torres emerged.
“Julian says he was in the east ballroom when the diamonds disappeared. Twelve witnesses confirm it.”
“Someone could have used his override,” Roman said.
“Correct.”
“His phone?”
“Shows him in the ballroom.”
“So he couldn't have been in the security office.”
“Probably not.”
That was our first crack in Charles Vale's warning.
Julian had an alibi.
A strong one.
Torres continued.
“He also gave us something interesting.”
She held up a photograph.
It showed Lenora meeting a man outside a restaurant.
The photograph had been taken two weeks earlier.
Maya examined it.
“Who is he?”
Torres answered.
“Graham Holt.”
Roman stiffened.
I knew the name too.
Holt was Vale International's former chief financial officer.
He had been fired by Charles Vale thirteen years earlier.
“What did he do?” I asked.
Roman's voice was grim.
“Embezzlement.”
“How much?”
“Six million.”
“Was he prosecuted?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My father wouldn't explain.”
Naomi gave Roman a sharp look.
“Your family has an extraordinary relationship with explanations.”
Torres tapped the photograph.
“Holt is also connected to Mercer Strategic Holdings.”
There it was.
A real connection.
Maybe Julian was a distraction.
Maybe Lenora had discovered Holt was back.
Maybe the poisoning was meant to silence her.
I asked the obvious question.
“Where is Holt now?”
Torres's expression changed.
“We don't know.”
My phone vibrated.
This time the caller ID showed Vale Foundation.
I answered.
“Elise Vale.”
A woman's voice whispered urgently.
“Mrs. Vale?”
“Yes?”
“This is Dana from records.”
I recognized her.
Dana worked in the foundation's basement archive.
“What's wrong?”
“I think someone is here.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“At the foundation office.”
Torres immediately moved closer.
Dana whispered.
“I came back because you asked me last week to pull the original Mercer invoices.”
My chest tightened.
“I never asked you to come in today.”
“I know, but after last night… I thought you might need them.”
A noise sounded through the phone.
Dana gasped.
“Someone just opened the stairwell door.”
“Dana, lock yourself in.”
“I did.”
“Call 911.”
“I already—”
The line went quiet.
“Dana?”
No answer.
Then a man's voice came through.
Calm.
Distorted.
“You should have left New York.”
The call disconnected.
Torres was already moving.
“Address.”
I gave it to her.
Roman grabbed his coat.
“You're not going.”
I stared at him.
He caught himself.
For one second, he looked ashamed.
Then he corrected his words.
“I don't want you going.”
“That is different.”
“Elise.”
“A woman may be in danger because she was helping me.”
Torres snapped, “Neither of you are going inside. You can follow if you stay behind the perimeter.”
Twenty minutes later, we reached the foundation offices.
Three patrol cars blocked the street.
An ambulance waited near the curb.
I saw a paramedic and my heart stopped.
“Dana?”
Torres spoke to an officer.
Then turned.
“She's alive.”
Relief nearly buckled my knees.
“They found her locked inside the records room. Someone tried to force the door but fled when sirens approached.”
“Did they get the invoices?”
Torres looked toward the building.
“No.”
My relief vanished.
“The files?”
“Gone.”
Roman swore.
Maya arrived moments later.
She looked from me to the building.
“They knew exactly what Dana was retrieving.”
Naomi nodded.
“Which means they knew Elise had asked about Mercer before the gala.”
I remembered something.
“I emailed the request.”
“To Dana?”
“Yes.”
“From your foundation account?”
“Yes.”
Maya's face changed.
“The same account someone used last night.”
Someone had access to my email.
Someone had watched my investigation from inside our systems.
Torres received a call.
She listened for thirty seconds.
Then looked at Roman.
“We found the vehicle used by the shooter at your house.”
“Registered?”
“Stolen.”
“Prints?”
“They're processing it.”
She paused.
“But there was something inside.”
“What?”
“A hospital visitor pass.”
My stomach dropped.
“From Lenora's hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
Torres held my gaze.
“Eleanor Vale.”
Roman went completely still.
His mother.
I turned toward him.
For once, Roman had no explanation.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
It had been taken inside Lenora's hospital room.
Lenora lay unconscious.
Beside her bed stood Eleanor.
May you like
Roman's mother was leaning over the IV line.
And in her hand was a syringe.
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