Chapter 5 - THE BASEMENTThe old estate had been empty for years.
I arrived just after midnight.
The front door was unlocked.
That terrified me more than a locked door would have.
Someone had been there.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Portraits.
Furniture.
Family photographs.
I walked toward the basement.
Each step sounded louder than it should.
The basement door was open.
I used the brass key.
It unlocked a second door at the bottom of the stairs.
Beyond it was a corridor.
A security light flickered overhead.
I found shelves.
Boxes.
Financial records.
Old computers.
Photographs.
Then I heard breathing.
Someone was behind me.
I turned.
A man stepped from the shadows.
He was old.
Thin.
Gray-haired.
I recognized him instantly.
My father's former accountant.
Martin Hale.
“You're alive,” I whispered.
Martin smiled bitterly.
“Your father wanted everyone to think I wasn't.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Where is my wife?”
“I don't know.”
“My son?”
“I don't know.”
I grabbed him.
“Then why did Claire send me here?”
“Because she knew you had to see this.”
He pointed to a computer.
I turned it on.
A folder appeared.
Thousands of files.
I opened one.
My name.
Another.
My father's name.
Another.
Vanessa.
Another.
Claire.
I stopped.
“Why is my wife in these files?”
Martin looked at me.
“Because your wife discovered the account.”
“What account?”
“The one your father used to pay people.”
“For what?”
Martin's expression became grim.
“To make problems disappear.”
I stared at him.
“Meaning?”
“Witnesses.”
I stepped back.
“You're saying my father murdered people?”
“I’m saying your father ran an operation much bigger than Carter Holdings.”
Martin opened a spreadsheet.
Payments.
Dates.
Names.
Amounts.
At the bottom was one recurring recipient.
D.B.
Daniel Brooks.
My attorney.
My friend.
I looked at Martin.
“Daniel?”
Martin nodded.
“Your father paid him for nineteen years.”
My stomach twisted.
“No.”
Martin opened another file.
A photograph appeared.
My father.
Daniel.
And Vanessa.
Standing together.
At the same event.
Years before I had ever met her.
“What is this?”
Martin whispered,
“Vanessa was never your mistress by accident.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“What?”
“She was placed in your life.”
I stared at him.
“By whom?”
Martin didn't answer.
He opened one final folder.
Inside was a birth certificate.
Noah Carter.
Mother:
Claire Carter.
Father:
Unknown.
But attached to it was another document.
A handwritten note.
Three words.
Not Ethan. Never Ethan.
I stared.
Then I noticed the date on the document.
It was written months before Noah was born.
Which meant Claire had known before the wedding.
Before the affair.
Before everything.
And before I could ask another question, every light in the basement went out.
Martin whispered,
May you like
“Run.”
A gunshot exploded in the dark.
