Chapter 5 - They moved Maisie into Graham's father's old library.
It was the only room in the house without visible cameras.
Or so Victor claimed.
Graham didn't trust anything anymore.
Not the walls.
Not the locks.
Not even the people whose names appeared on legal documents beside his own.
Maisie sat on the sofa wrapped in a blanket.
She hadn't spoken in twenty minutes.
Graham knelt in front of her.
“Sweetheart.”
She looked at him.
“Do you remember Mommy's last night?”
Maisie nodded.
“Tell me.”
She looked toward the window.
“Mommy was fighting with someone.”
“Who?”
She closed her eyes.
“The lady.”
“Sloane?”
Maisie shook her head.
“I didn't know her name then.”
Graham swallowed.
“What did she say?”
Maisie whispered:
“She said Mommy stole something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Where were you?”
“Under the stairs.”
Graham went still.
“She didn't see me.”
“What happened next?”
“Mommy fell.”
Graham's throat tightened.
“Did the lady push her?”
Maisie nodded.
Then she opened her eyes.
“She didn't do it with her hands.”
Graham frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“She put something on Mommy.”
“What?”
Maisie couldn't remember.
Graham stopped pushing.
“That's okay.”
He kissed her forehead.
“You're safe.”
He stood.
Victor waited by the desk.
“What did she mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Something was used.”
“Maybe.”
Victor looked at the floor.
“I need to tell you something else.”
Graham turned.
Victor reached into his jacket.
A flash drive.
“Claire gave me this.”
“What's on it?”
“I never opened it.”
“Why?”
“Because she told me not to unless you were ready.”
Graham stared at him.
“Today wasn't my choice.”
Victor handed it over.
Graham inserted it into the laptop.
One folder.
CASE 17.
Inside were photographs.
Bank transfers.
Hotel records.
Phone logs.
Then a list of names.
Nine families.
Nine children.
Nine “behavioral placements.”
All from wealthy households.
Graham scrolled.
Every child had been declared unstable after the sudden death or disappearance of a parent.
Every child had been placed at Northvale.
Every guardian had later accessed a trust, inheritance, or insurance account.
Graham stared.
“How long has this been happening?”
Victor shook his head.
“Years.”
A PDF opened automatically.
NORTHVALE TRUST NETWORK.
Graham read the first page.
It named six lawyers.
Three doctors.
Two private investigators.
And one financial controller.
At the bottom was a photograph.
A board meeting.
The woman at the center looked familiar.
Graham leaned toward the screen.
Then his face changed.
He knew her.
She had attended the funeral.
She had hugged him.
She had told him Claire would want him to move forward.
Sloane's mother.
Evelyn Harper.
Graham whispered:
“She was involved.”
Victor nodded.
“Claire believed she was the person running everything.”
“But Sloane?”
“Her daughter.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Graham closed the laptop.
The library door opened.
A police officer walked in.
Not one of Grant security.
A real officer.
Graham almost exhaled with relief.
“Officer?”
The officer smiled.
“Mr. Grant?”
“Yes.”
“We received a call about a disturbance.”
Graham stepped forward.
“Thank God.”
The officer looked at Maisie.
“Is that your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“What's her condition?”
Graham frowned.
“She's frightened.”
The officer nodded.
Then he saw the documents on the desk.
His expression changed.
“Where did you get these?”
Graham answered.
“They were hidden in my house.”
The officer's gaze moved to Victor.
“Mr. Hale.”
Victor's face hardened.
“You know each other?”
The officer smiled.
“Small city.”
Graham felt something in his stomach twist.
Then the officer closed the library door.
From outside came the click of a lock.
Graham turned.
The officer had locked them inside.
“Step away from the child.”
Graham moved in front of Maisie.
“What are you doing?”
The officer drew his weapon.
“I'm here to take custody of the girl.”
Victor whispered:
“This isn't police.”
The officer looked at him.
“Too late.”
Graham stared at the badge.
Then at the man's face.
There was something wrong.
He reached for his phone.
The officer raised his weapon.
“Don't.”
Maisie suddenly shouted.
“Daddy!”
She pointed behind the officer.
The library mirror was moving.
A hidden door opened.
A woman stepped through.
Red nails.
Gold bracelet.
Graham stared.
The woman pulled down the hood.
He knew her face.
He had seen it in Claire's wedding photographs.
At the funeral.
At the house.
At the dinner table.
Sloane's mother.
Evelyn Harper.
She smiled.
“Hello, Graham.”
May you like
Then she looked at Maisie.
“Now let's finally ask the little girl what she remembers.”
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