Chapter 11 - What Marcus Had DoneThe recording continued.
“I didn't know how to tell you.”
Marcus's recorded voice shook.
“Dad found out about Richard before I did.”
I looked at the real Marcus standing across the room.
He looked horrified.
“I never made this recording.”
But the recording continued.
“I went to Richard because I wanted answers.”
I stared at my son.
“You did what?”
He shook his head.
“I swear, Mom…”
The tape said:
“He offered me money.”
Lauren closed her eyes.
Marcus looked at her.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough to change everything.”
The recording continued.
“I agreed to help him locate the documents.”
Marcus sank into a chair.
The voice from the tape was his.
“There was one condition.”
The tape clicked.
Then:
“I had to make Patricia leave the house.”
I couldn't move.
The words were coming directly from my son.
The real Marcus stared at the floor.
“Mom…”
I held up a hand.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
The tape continued.
“I thought it would be temporary.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You locked me out of my own home.”
“I know.”
“You let her wear my clothes.”
“I know.”
“You stood behind her while she told me I needed permission to visit.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
The recording ended.
I turned away.
For the first time in sixty-nine years, I didn't know what to do with my own heart.
Lauren whispered:
“You see why I couldn't leave?”
I looked at her.
“Don't pretend you were protecting me.”
“I wasn't.”
“Then what were you protecting?”
“My sister.”
I looked at Marcus.
“And you?”
He looked at me.
“I was protecting you.”
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“You were protecting yourself.”
He didn't argue.
Nathan stepped forward.
“Enough. We have less than twenty-four hours.”
I looked at him.
“What happens when the vault opens?”
“Whoever controls the ledger controls Richard.”
“And whoever controls the house?”
“Controls access.”
“Then that's why Lauren needed possession.”
“Yes.”
I understood.
The beach house itself was the lock.
I was the keyholder.
And the vault was the prize.
Then I remembered the final words from Harold's letter.
Trust the woman who hates me.
I looked at Lauren.
“You hated Harold.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he refused to save my sister.”
I froze.
“What?”
Lauren's voice broke.
“He knew where Rebecca was.”
“What?”
“He knew.”
“And he didn't tell you?”
“He said if I brought Richard to the house, Rebecca would die.”
I stared at her.
“So you worked for Richard to find the house.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you helping me now?”
“Because Richard stopped keeping his promises.”
Lauren pulled a photograph from her pocket.
It showed an old warehouse.
On the back was an address.
“Rebecca is alive.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Then who took this?”
“Marcus.”
Marcus shook his head.
“I found it yesterday.”
Nathan took the photograph.
He looked closely.
“This isn't a warehouse.”
“What is it?”
“An old coastal archive.”
His face changed.
“It's beneath the beach house.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“What?”
Nathan turned the photograph over.
“The coordinates are here.”
He pointed.
The location was our property.
My property.
The same house we had loved.
The same house where Harold and I had eaten breakfast on Sundays.
The same house where Marcus had taken his first steps.
There was a hidden facility beneath it.
And Rebecca Vale might be trapped inside.
Then we heard a car.
Slowly approaching.
Nathan looked through the window.
“Richard.”
“How do you know?”
“He's early.”
“Early for what?”
Nathan looked at the clock.
“Not the vault.”
May you like
He turned toward me.
“He's come for Rebecca.”
