Chapter 12 - My Aunt Wasn’t DeadI couldn't speak.
My aunt Claire had supposedly died in a car accident when I was thirteen.
There had been a funeral.
Photographs.
Flowers.
A closed casket.
I remembered my mother crying for weeks.
But the woman in the photograph looked exactly like her.
Richard stared at the screen.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“That’s Claire.”
The detective said,
“Her identity is still being confirmed.”
“My family told me she was dead.”
Richard's face hardened.
“Then someone's been lying for a very long time.”
Claire had been my mother's younger sister.
She had worked in finance.
Before disappearing, she had accused my father of hiding money.
Mom said Claire was unstable.
Dad said she was bitter.
I had believed them.
Now every memory looked different.
The detective handed me another photograph.
Claire entering a law office.
Another.
Claire meeting Daniel.
Another.
Claire standing beside Grandma Rose.
I stared at the last one.
Grandma looked healthy.
Young.
And beside her stood Claire, holding a black folder.
“The evidence,” I whispered.
Richard looked at me.
“That's the folder.”
“The one Grandma said Daniel had?”
“Yes.”
“But Claire had it.”
The detective nodded.
“So where is it now?”
No one knew.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice spoke.
“Natalie.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Are you alive?”
“I am.”
“Why did Mom tell me you were dead?”
“Because she had to.”
“Why?”
Claire's voice cracked.
“Because your father wanted me gone.”
“What did you know?”
“Everything.”
My hands shook.
“Then help me.”
“I've been trying for years.”
“How?”
“By staying away.”
“That's not helping.”
Silence.
Then she said,
“You aren't safe.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
“What do you mean?”
“Blake is heading toward you.”
My blood froze.
“How do you know?”
“Because he called me.”
“What does he want?”
“He wants the original ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The one your grandmother kept.”
I glanced at Richard.
Claire continued.
“The ledger contains every transfer, every name, every payment.”
“And you have it?”
“No.”
“Then who does?”
She hesitated.
“You.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Your grandmother hid it where she knew no one would search.”
I thought of her desk.
Her kitchen.
The old cabinet.
“The house?”
“No.”
“Where?”
Claire's voice softened.
“Your drafting table.”
I stopped breathing.
The damaged wooden table.
The same one Blake had dragged downstairs.
The same table I had carried through the rain.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“There is a compartment beneath the left support beam.”
I closed my eyes.
I knew the table.
I had repaired that support myself years ago.
I had never noticed a compartment.
Claire said,
“Your grandmother gave that table to you for a reason.”
I looked toward the parking lot.
“My table is in my car.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because they're going to come for it.”
I turned.
Three cars had just entered the lot.
Black SUVs.
Richard saw them too.
“Get down.”
The windows shattered.
People screamed.
Gunfire exploded across the parking structure.
Richard pulled me behind a concrete pillar.
The police drew their weapons.
I pressed myself against the wall.
My heart hammered.
Then I heard a voice from the entrance.
“Give us the table, Natalie!”
Blake.
I stared.
He had escaped custody.
And now he was here.
Richard shouted,
“Stay down!”
Blake's voice echoed through the garage.
“You don't understand!”
I gripped my phone.
“What do you want?”
“The ledger!”
“I don't have it.”
Blake laughed.
“You're lying.”
Then another voice came through the speakers.
My father's voice.
“Tell her, Blake.”
I froze.
My father was in custody.
He couldn't be here.
Unless someone had recorded him.
Blake shouted,
“Dad says the ledger belongs to the family!”
I looked at Richard.
He whispered,
“They know about the table.”
Then my phone buzzed again.
Claire.
One message.
Do not open the compartment until you are alone.
I stared at the screen.
Then I heard footsteps approaching.
May you like
Blake was getting closer.
And he knew exactly where the table was.
