Chapter 3 - THE DEAD MAN WHO NEVER DIEDLena did not remember leaving Sinclair House.
She remembered Julian saying her name.
She remembered knocking his hand away when he tried to stop her.
Then the next clear image was the steering wheel beneath her palms as she sat inside her dying Honda with the doors locked.
Thomas Brooks.
Her father.
A man who supposedly died eleven years earlier.
Not three.
Julian had to be wrong.
She called her mother.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
Her mother, Grace, worked evening shifts at a rehabilitation center twenty miles outside Charlotte and hated keeping her phone with her.
Lena started the car.
The engine coughed twice.
“Not tonight.”
It died.
She turned the key again.
Nothing.
A knock sounded at the window.
Julian.
She stared straight ahead.
He knocked again.
She lowered the window manually by wrestling the stubborn crank.
“You followed me?”
“You made it forty feet.”
“My car disagrees with billionaires.”
“I noticed.”
“Go away.”
“I can have someone drive you.”
“I don't need anything from you.”
“Fine.”
He stepped back.
Lena turned the ignition.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Julian waited.
She glared.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You're thinking smugly.”
“Actually, I’m thinking your starter motor is dead.”
“I liked my interpretation better.”
Five minutes later, she reluctantly sat in the passenger seat of Julian's black Range Rover.
“You said my father disappeared three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“He died eleven years ago.”
“I know what the official record says.”
“How?”
“I investigated him.”
“Why?”
Julian gripped the steering wheel.
“Because Thomas Brooks worked for Sinclair Holdings.”
Lena turned toward him.
“No.”
“He was an internal auditor.”
“He repaired elevators.”
“That was after.”
“After what?”
“After he resigned.”
She stared through the windshield.
Her father had fixed commercial elevators.
He came home smelling of grease and metal.
He packed lunches in an old red cooler.
He taught Lena to change tires and distrust credit cards.
He had never once mentioned Sinclair Holdings.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“You said everything about you was a lie.”
“My mother said that.”
“Maybe she was warning me for a reason.”
“She was.”
“What did you do to my father?”
Julian’s hands tightened around the wheel.
“Nothing.”
“Victoria said you buried somebody’s life.”
“I helped erase records.”
Lena stopped breathing.
“Whose?”
He didn't answer quickly enough.
“Whose, Julian?”
“Your father’s.”
Lena grabbed the door handle.
They were moving at fifty miles an hour.
“Pull over.”
“Lena—”
“Pull over!”
Julian slowed and turned into an empty pharmacy lot.
She was out before the vehicle stopped completely.
He followed.
“Stay away from me.”
“Listen.”
“You erased my father?”
“His employment history.”
“Why?”
“To protect him.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“There were people looking for him.”
“Your family?”
“No.”
“Victoria's?”
Julian hesitated.
That was enough.
“Rainer.”
“Yes.”
She laughed once in disbelief.
“My dad dies, you erase his records, your ex-fiancée’s family buys my home, and I'm supposed to think all of this is coincidence?”
“No.”
“Then tell me everything.”
“I can’t.”
She slapped him.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the parking lot.
Julian's face turned with the blow.
Lena’s hand shook.
“That's for putting me in a car and telling me you destroyed part of my father's life before deciding I hadn't earned the rest.”
Julian slowly looked back at her.
He did not look angry.
He looked ashamed.
“You're right.”
“Don't agree with me. Tell me.”
He took a breath.
“Your father discovered evidence that Sinclair Holdings was being used to funnel money through shell construction companies.”
“By whom?”
“Martin Rainer.”
Victoria's father.
“My mother and Martin were partners in several developments. Thomas uncovered falsified invoices and land purchases connected to organized fraud.”
“Did Evelyn know?”
“Not initially.”
“And when she found out?”
“She ordered an internal investigation.”
“What happened?”
“Someone inside Sinclair warned Martin.”
Lena felt cold.
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“What does the vault have to do with this?”
“Thomas copied records. He told my mother he had secured physical evidence somewhere no one connected to Sinclair could reach.”
“The textile warehouse.”
“We think so.”
“We?”
“My mother and I.”
“So you’ve known about my family for years?”
“Yes.”
“And yesterday Evelyn just happened to be outside my workplace dressed like a homeless woman?”
Julian went silent.
The betrayal hurt differently.
“Oh my God.”
“Lena—”
“She knew who I was.”
“Not when you first approached her.”
“But afterward?”
“Yes.”
“That entire dinner was arranged.”
“Yes.”
She backed away.
“You people are unbelievable.”
“My mother has spent years trying to find your father.”
“He's dead.”
Julian looked at her.
“No.”
“Stop saying that.”
“We have reason to believe the accident was staged.”
“My mother identified his body.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did she?”
Lena’s anger faltered.
She remembered that week in fragments.
Rain.
Neighbors bringing casseroles.
Her mother sitting motionless at the kitchen table.
A closed casket.
Lena had been seventeen.
“Mom said the police told her the body was badly burned.”
“Exactly.”
“You think she lied?”
“I think she may have been told to.”
“By my father?”
“Possibly.”
Lena shook her head.
“No.”
“Three years ago, someone accessed a dormant account Thomas created under an alias.”
“Where?”
“Richmond.”
“Virginia?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Nothing.”
She stared at him.
“You've been searching since?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
For the first time, Julian looked away.
“Because my father died because of the same investigation.”
Lena said nothing.
Julian leaned against the Range Rover.
“My father was Charles Sinclair. He and my mother built the company together. When Thomas brought evidence of fraud, my father insisted on confronting Martin privately.”
“What happened?”
“His plane crashed two weeks later.”
Lena's anger cooled enough for something else to enter.
Understanding.
“You think Rainer killed him.”
“I think Martin Rainer has spent years making inconvenient people disappear.”
“And you dated his daughter?”
Julian's jaw hardened.
“I didn't know at first.”
“You were engaged to her.”
“I got close to Victoria because I believed she knew where her father kept records.”
Lena stared.
“You faked a relationship?”
“It started that way.”
“Did she know?”
“No.”
“Did you love her?”
Julian's laugh contained no amusement.
“No.”
“Did she love you?”
“I think Victoria loves ownership.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
“I don't know.”
Lena shook her head.
“Your mother was right.”
“About what?”
“Your life is a lie.”
He absorbed that without defending himself.
She checked her phone.
Three missed calls.
All from her mother.
Lena immediately answered.
“Mom?”
Static.
Then Grace whispered,
“Lena, where are you?”
“Outside uptown. What's wrong?”
“Do not come home.”
Lena straightened.
“What?”
“Do you hear me? Don't go to your apartment.”
“Mom—”
“Two men came to the rehab center asking about you.”
Julian was already watching her carefully.
“What men?”
“I don't know. They said they were from an insurance company.”
“What did they want?”
“To know whether you had anything your father left behind.”
Lena’s heart stopped.
Julian took a step closer.
Grace continued.
“I told them no.”
“Mom, where are you?”
“In my car.”
“Drive to the police.”
“No.”
“Why?”
A sob caught in Grace’s throat.
“Because your father told me never to trust the police if this happened.”
Lena could barely process the words.
“When what happened?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For letting you believe he died.”
Lena's knees nearly gave out.
Julian caught her elbow.
This time, she didn't pull away.
“Mom…”
Grace started crying.
“Your father was alive when I last saw him, Lena.”
The parking lot disappeared.
Everything became the voice in her phone.
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“You knew?”
“I knew he survived.”
“You let me bury him.”
“It was the only way to keep you safe.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie to me again.”
“I swear.”
Lena pressed a hand over her mouth.
Grace breathed shakily.
“There’s something in our old house.”
“What old house?”
“The one on Merritt Street.”
They had sold it after Thomas died.
“What?”
“Your father built a compartment inside the basement stairs. He told me if anyone ever started asking about him again, I should get what was inside.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I was terrified.”
“What's in it?”
“I don't know.”
A car horn sounded on Grace’s side.
Then she gasped.
“Mom?”
“Lena—”
“What?”
“They followed me.”
Julian took the phone from Lena.
“Mrs. Brooks, this is Julian Sinclair.”
A pause.
Grace's voice changed.
“Sinclair?”
“Yes. Drive toward Queens Road. Do not stop. I’m sending security to you.”
“No. You don't understand—”
“I understand enough. What's the vehicle?”
“A black SUV.”
“License plate?”
“I can't see.”
Julian put the call on speaker while using his own phone.
“Mother. Grace Brooks is being followed. Get Knox on it. Now.”
He listened.
“Queens Road heading south.”
Lena heard tires squeal through Grace's phone.
“Mom!”
“They’re getting closer.”
Julian grabbed Lena’s shoulder.
“Tell her to keep moving.”
“Mom, keep driving!”
“I am.”
Then came a violent impact.
Metal screamed.
Grace cried out.
The call dropped.
“Mom!”
Nothing.
Lena tried calling again.
No answer.
Julian was already pulling open the Range Rover door.
“Get in.”
They raced across Charlotte.
Lena called her mother twelve times.
Nothing.
Nine minutes later, they reached Queens Road.
Police lights flashed ahead.
A sedan had struck a guardrail.
Grace's sedan.
Lena was out before Julian parked.
“Mom!”
An officer tried to stop her.
“Ma’am—”
“That's my mother!”
She ran around the cruiser.
The driver’s door was open.
Blood spotted the airbag.
But the seat was empty.
“Where is she?”
The officer frowned.
“The driver wasn't here when we arrived.”
Lena stared at the blood.
“No.”
Julian joined her.
“Was there another vehicle?”
“Witness saw a black Escalade leave northbound.”
Lena's world narrowed.
Her mother had not crashed and wandered away.
Someone had taken her.
A phone began ringing.
Not Lena's.
Grace's.
It lay beneath the passenger seat.
Lena reached inside and grabbed it.
Unknown number.
Julian said, “Don't answer.”
She did.
“Where is my mother?”
A man's voice replied.
“Bring us what Thomas Brooks left behind.”
“Who is this?”
“You have until midnight tomorrow.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“You will.”
The voice paused.
“And Ms. Brooks?”
“What?”
“Don't involve the Sinclairs.”
Lena slowly looked at Julian.
“How do you know—”
The man laughed.
“Because Julian Sinclair has been lying to you since the moment you met him.”
The line went dead.
Lena lowered the phone.
Julian’s face had become unreadable.
“What?” she whispered.
He said nothing.
“What haven't you told me?”
“Lena…”
Her voice broke.
“WHAT haven't you told me?”
Julian looked toward the police officers.
Then back at her.
“The man who ordered your father’s death wasn't Martin Rainer.”
Lena froze.
Julian swallowed.
“Martin was following orders.”
“From who?”
May you like
Julian’s answer was almost inaudible.
“My mother.”
Related Stories
