Chapter 5 - THE PRISONER WHO KNEW TOO MUCHLena's first thought was that everyone around her had forgotten how death worked.
Her father had supposedly died eleven years ago.
Then he had survived.
Then Julian said Victoria's brother killed him.
Yet three years ago, Thomas had apparently accessed a bank account in Richmond.
Nothing made sense.
“What are you saying?”
Julian ran a hand over his face.
“Victoria had an older brother. Andrew.”
“Had?”
“He died in prison eighteen months ago.”
“You sent him there for killing my father?”
“I believed he had.”
“Based on what?”
“A confession.”
“His?”
“Yes.”
Lena stared at him.
“He confessed to murder?”
“Not publicly.”
“Then explain.”
Julian looked toward the police gathering around the house.
“Not here.”
“No. Right here.”
He exhaled.
“Five years ago, Andrew Rainer contacted me. He was drunk, terrified, and claiming his father had been using him for years. He told me he'd been instructed to find Thomas Brooks.”
“When?”
“Six years after your father's staged death.”
“So Dad was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Richmond. Andrew found him there.”
“And killed him?”
“He said he confronted Thomas in a motel. There was a struggle. The gun fired.”
Lena could hear her own heartbeat.
“Did you see a body?”
“No.”
“Did police?”
“No.”
“Then why send Andrew to prison?”
“Because Andrew had already killed another man.”
Lena stared.
“He admitted to running down an accountant who threatened to cooperate with federal investigators. I recorded the confession and gave it to prosecutors.”
“And he conveniently died before explaining the rest.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
“He was stabbed in prison.”
“Ordered by his father?”
“I assumed so.”
“Maybe you assume too much.”
“That is becoming apparent.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“We need somewhere safe.”
Lena looked at her.
“My mother has until tomorrow night.”
“We'll find her.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
Evelyn did not offer false comfort.
“But whoever has her wants the box. That means they need her alive until the exchange.”
It was terrible logic.
It was also the only logic Lena had.
They returned to Sinclair House just before midnight.
This time Lena did not admire the chandeliers.
A security team filled the library.
Maps covered one table.
Phones and laptops glowed across another.
The metal box sat under guard.
Julian inserted the flash drive into an isolated computer.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Invoices.
Property transfers.
Account numbers.
Scanned correspondence.
And photographs.
One showed Martin Rainer entering a warehouse beside Robert Sinclair.
Date stamped twelve years earlier.
Another showed Robert with two men Lena didn't recognize.
Evelyn did.
“Oh, God.”
“Who?” Julian asked.
“County commissioner. Former police chief.”
Lena looked at her.
“That's why Dad told Mom not to trust police.”
Evelyn nodded.
“There may have been people inside the department.”
A technician began copying everything.
Lena called the number for Margaret Vale from a secure phone.
Disconnected.
They searched databases.
No Margaret Vale.
Then a technician said, “Maybe Vale isn't her real surname.”
Lena stared at the name.
Something bothered her.
Margaret Vale.
M. Vale.
She grabbed her father's handwritten note.
“Dad used puzzles.”
Julian looked over.
“What kind?”
“When he hid birthday gifts, clues always involved wordplay.”
Lena wrote MARGARET VALE.
Then rearranged letters.
Nothing.
She looked at the phone number.
A Richmond area code.
Three digits repeated.
Her father loved dates.
She typed the last four numbers into the search database as a year and month combination.
Julian watched.
“What are you doing?”
“I don't know yet.”
Then Lena saw it.
A bank routing reference in the files used the code MVAL-73.
She searched.
A company appeared.
Mountain Vale Accounting LLC.
Dissolved fifteen years earlier.
Registered agent:
Margaret Ellis.
Evelyn inhaled sharply.
“I know that name.”
“Who is she?”
“She was Robert's assistant.”
They located an address in Asheville.
Two hours away.
Julian stood.
“We leave now.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“You're a target.”
“So is Lena.”
“Which is why neither of you should go.”
Lena grabbed her coat.
“I’m going.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“Your mother—”
“Is missing because people want information my father hid. If Margaret knows where he went, she may know where they're keeping Mom.”
Julian nodded.
“She's right.”
Evelyn stared at both of them.
“You're equally impossible.”
Julian almost smiled.
“You raised me.”
They traveled with security in two vehicles.
The road toward Asheville unspooled beneath a black sky.
For nearly an hour, Lena and Julian said nothing.
Finally, she asked, “Why didn't you marry Victoria?”
He looked out the window.
“You heard her.”
“She threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“She discovered why I'd originally gotten close to her.”
Lena waited.
“I told her the truth.”
“That you used her?”
“Yes.”
“How did she react?”
“She threw a wine bottle at me.”
“Fair.”
Julian looked at Lena.
“You think so?”
“You lied about loving someone to investigate her family.”
“I never told her I loved her.”
“You proposed.”
“That makes the distinction weak.”
“At least you're learning.”
He looked down.
“I tried to end it months ago.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Victoria told me if I left, she'd tell her father I had Andrew's private files.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What are they?”
“Letters Andrew wrote before his death. He knew more than he admitted.”
“About Dad?”
“And Robert.”
Lena turned toward him.
“You still have them?”
“In a safe.”
“What do they say?”
“One sentence keeps appearing.”
“What?”
“‘The dead man is upstairs.’”
Lena frowned.
“Meaning?”
“I thought he meant guilt. A ghost. Something metaphorical.”
“But now?”
“Now I wonder if Robert Sinclair never died.”
A phone rang from the front seat.
Security answered.
Then turned.
“Mr. Sinclair, we have movement at Ms. Brooks's apartment.”
Lena leaned forward.
“What?”
“Two people entered through the back.”
“Police?”
“No.”
Julian said, “Do not engage unless necessary. Get images.”
The security officer sent a live feed.
Lena watched two masked men search her tiny apartment.
Drawers overturned.
Mattress cut.
Closet emptied.
Then one man lifted a framed photograph.
Lena and Grace standing beside Thomas at a county fair.
He removed the backing.
Nothing.
He smashed it.
Lena looked away.
Julian quietly said, “I'm sorry.”
“Don't.”
“What?”
“Don't say sorry every time your family's nightmare destroys something.”
“I don't know what else to say.”
“Then say what you're going to do about it.”
Julian looked at her.
“Whatever it takes.”
The words were simple.
But he meant them.
They reached Asheville at 3:41 a.m.
Margaret Ellis lived in a modest cottage at the edge of a wooded neighborhood.
No lights.
Security checked the perimeter.
The front door opened before they knocked.
A shotgun pointed through the crack.
“Leave.”
Lena raised both hands.
“Margaret?”
The woman behind the gun was around seventy.
White hair cut short.
Eyes sharp.
“Who are you?”
“Lena Brooks.”
The shotgun lowered two inches.
Margaret stared.
“Thomas's girl?”
Lena's throat tightened.
“Yes.”
The door opened.
Margaret pulled her inside.
“Where is your father?”
Lena's knees nearly buckled.
“You know he's alive?”
Margaret's face changed.
“He was.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
Everything stopped.
Julian entered behind Lena.
Margaret saw him.
The shotgun came up instantly.
“Sinclair.”
“Margaret, wait.”
“You have five seconds.”
“I’m Charles's son.”
“I know exactly who you are.”
“Then you know I'm trying to expose Robert.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Robert?”
“You know he's alive.”
Margaret slowly lowered the weapon.
“You really don't know.”
Julian and Lena exchanged a look.
“Know what?” Lena asked.
Margaret locked the door.
Then drew the curtains.
“Robert died.”
Evelyn had been right.
“When?” Julian asked.
“Seven years ago.”
“But—”
“Whoever you're hunting now isn't Robert.”
Margaret crossed the room to an old desk.
“Robert Sinclair was greedy, cruel, and frightened of prison. But he wasn't smart enough to build what came afterward.”
She took out a photograph.
Four people stood on a yacht.
Charles Sinclair.
Robert Sinclair.
Martin Rainer.
And a fourth person.
Lena recognized her immediately.
Victoria.
Except the photograph was dated twenty-one years earlier.
Victoria would have been a child.
“This isn't Victoria,” Lena said.
Margaret looked at her.
“No.”
“Who is she?”
“Victoria's mother.”
Julian frowned.
“Elaine died when Victoria was twelve.”
“No.”
Margaret gave a bitter smile.
“Do billionaires in your family die unusually often, or have you simply stopped checking bodies?”
Julian's face hardened.
Margaret pointed at the photograph.
“Elaine Rainer built the money network. Robert was her shield. Martin was her husband and errand boy.”
Lena whispered, “She's alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“What does she want?”
Margaret looked directly at Julian.
“Sinclair Holdings.”
“Why?”
“Because she believes it belongs to her daughter.”
“That makes no sense.”
Margaret hesitated.
Then said,
“Victoria Rainer isn't Martin Rainer's biological daughter.”
Julian stared.
Margaret turned toward him.
“She is Charles Sinclair's daughter.”
Silence.
Julian's face emptied.
“My father's?”
“Yes.”
Lena felt the implications hit one after another.
Victoria.
Julian's former fiancée.
Charles Sinclair.
Evelyn’s husband.
“Oh my God.”
Julian stepped backward.
“You're saying Victoria is my sister.”
“Half-sister.”
He looked physically sick.
“I was engaged to her.”
“Neither of you knew.”
“How could my father—”
“Charles had an affair with Elaine before you were born. He ended it when Evelyn became pregnant. Elaine never forgave him.”
Lena suddenly understood.
“This isn't about money.”
Margaret nodded.
“It started with revenge.”
“And my father?”
Margaret's expression softened.
“Thomas found out who Victoria really was.”
“Is that why they hunted him?”
“Partly. More importantly, he found proof Elaine arranged Charles's plane crash after Robert refused to do it.”
Julian sat heavily in a chair.
Lena wanted to comfort him.
She didn't know whether she had the right.
“Where is my father now?”
Margaret looked at her.
“He came here three months ago because he believed Elaine had discovered him.”
“And then?”
“He left.”
“For where?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
“Did he say anything?”
Margaret thought.
“One thing.”
“What?”
“He said if Elaine ever took Grace, he would come out of hiding.”
Lena stood very still.
“So he knows she might.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Thomas has been watching your mother from a distance for years.”
Anger and hope twisted together inside Lena.
“He watched us?”
“To make sure you were safe.”
“He let us think he was dead.”
Margaret touched her arm.
“Your father has spent eleven years being hunted.”
“He still made a choice.”
“Yes.”
Margaret did not defend him.
“And choices have consequences, even when they're made from love.”
A phone rang.
Margaret froze.
It was an old landline.
She stared at it.
“Nobody has this number.”
It rang again.
Julian motioned to security.
The guard traced it.
Margaret answered on speaker.
“Hello?”
A man's voice said,
“Margaret.”
Lena stopped breathing.
She knew that voice.
Older.
Rougher.
But she knew it.
“Dad?”
Silence.
Then:
“Lena?”
Her knees gave out.
Julian caught her before she hit the floor.
Tears blurred everything.
“Dad?”
Thomas Brooks began crying on the other end of the line.
“Oh, baby girl.”
Eleven years vanished.
Lena pressed both hands against her mouth.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Mom's been taken.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“I saw it happen.”
Lena's grief instantly turned to fury.
“You SAW IT?”
“I followed them.”
“Where is she?”
“Old freight terminal near Lake Norman.”
Julian immediately signaled security.
Thomas continued.
“But don't go yet.”
“They have Mom.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Because they're waiting for you.”
“Who?”
“Elaine.”
Lena looked at Margaret.
Thomas's voice lowered.
“And there's something you need to know before you trust anyone in that room.”
“What?”
“The person who told Elaine where Grace would be wasn't Martin.”
“Then who?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Someone inside Sinclair House.”
Julian went still.
Lena's grip tightened around the phone.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
May you like
Then Thomas said the words that turned every person in Margaret's living room silent.
“But it's someone Evelyn would trust with her life.”
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