Chapter 5 - The House They Thought Was TheirsThe Hidden Room
The garage door rose.
I grabbed the heavy flashlight from the workbench.
Vincent stepped into the garage.
He was older than I expected.
Late sixties, perhaps.
Gray hair.
Dark overcoat.
No visible weapon.
That made him more frightening.
Men who needed to show weapons rarely needed much else.
He looked around.
“Beautiful house.”
“Leave.”
“Arthur loved this place.”
“You knew him.”
“Very well.”
I held the flashlight tighter.
“What do you know about his death?”
Vincent looked at me.
“That your son wasn't responsible.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I said your son wasn't responsible.”
“You just told me he was involved.”
“He was.”
“In what?”
“Your husband’s final investigation.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“But not his murder.”
The word hit me like ice water.
“Murder?”
Vincent reached into his coat.
I raised the flashlight.
He stopped.
“Relax.”
He pulled out a folded photograph.
Arthur.
Outside a restaurant.
Three days before his death.
Standing beside Trevor.
And someone else.
A woman.
I had never seen her.
“Who is she?”
“Evelyn Hale.”
I stared.
Vincent's sister.
“Why was Arthur meeting her?”
“Because she came to him with proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Who was stealing money from his company.”
I swallowed.
“And?”
“Arthur discovered the theft led to someone inside his own family.”
I looked at the photograph.
“Trevor?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Vincent said nothing.
“You came here to frighten me.”
“No.”
“You came here for the trust.”
“Yes.”
“Then why tell me this?”
“Because I want the same thing your husband wanted.”
“The truth?”
“The truth before someone else buries it.”
A car appeared at the end of the driveway.
Vincent glanced toward it.
His expression changed.
“That's not my car.”
I looked.
Daniel's sedan.
He got out quickly.
Vincent stepped backward.
“I'll be in touch.”
“You're not leaving.”
He smiled.
“Mrs. Miller, the dangerous people in your life are not the people who walk through your door.”
He turned.
“The dangerous ones already have keys.”
Then he left.
Daniel entered the garage.
“Are you all right?”
I nodded.
“Vincent was here.”
Daniel looked toward the driveway.
“I was afraid he would be.”
“What did he mean about people having keys?”
Daniel's face tightened.
“You need to change the locks.”
“Why?”
“Because Trevor may still have a copy.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“Trevor has had a key for twenty years.”
“Change them tonight.”
We spent the afternoon going through Arthur's files.
The deeper we went, the worse it became.
Arthur had been investigating financial theft from his company.
The missing money was routed through several shell companies.
One of them was connected to Vincent.
Another was connected to Marcus Bell.
And the third was connected to an attorney.
Daniel recognized the name immediately.
He sat back.
“No.”
“What?”
“This lawyer represented Arthur after his business dispute.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked at the file.
“Gregory Sloan.”
I laughed because the name sounded too close to Sloan's to be coincidence.
“Is he related to her?”
“I don't know.”
We searched.
Sloan's maiden name had been Sloan.
Her father's name was Gregory Sloan.
My hands went cold.
Her father.
Arthur's former lawyer.
The man connected to the missing money.
The man who represented Arthur during the dispute.
I looked at Daniel.
“Does Sloan know about this?”
He answered carefully.
“She may know more than she ever told Trevor.”
That night, I changed the locks.
At 11:40 p.m., I went upstairs.
Then I heard something.
A faint click.
From the office.
I stopped.
The door was open.
I had closed it.
I walked slowly toward it.
The drawers were open.
Papers had been pulled onto the floor.
My pulse raced.
Someone had been inside.
I called Daniel.
“I'm in the office,” I whispered.
“Leave the room.”
“I think someone's been here.”
“Diane, leave now.”
I stepped backward.
Then I noticed the bottom drawer.
It was open.
Inside was the locked box.
The box I'd found in the desk.
Except now it was empty.
The trust papers were gone.
So was the note from Arthur.
I looked at the security monitor.
The camera feed had been restored.
A timestamp appeared.
10:58 p.m.
The footage showed a figure entering the office.
The person wore a black coat.
I watched.
The figure turned toward the camera for one second.
Then the face became visible.
I stopped breathing.
It was Sloan.
But what she did next was worse.
She opened Arthur's desk.
Pulled out a hidden key.
And unlocked something behind the bookshelf.
A panel.
A secret door.
I stared at the screen.
There was a room behind my bookshelf.
May you like
A room I had lived beside for twenty years.
And I had never known it existed.
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