Chapter 4 - The Man in the BasementNoah slept in my guest room.
Two security guards stood outside the door.
My mother refused to leave the house.
Vanessa insisted she had done nothing wrong.
But she didn't sleep either.
At 3:17 a.m., I found her in the kitchen.
Standing alone.
Holding a knife.
I stopped in the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
She looked at the blade.
Then back at me.
"Cutting an apple."
She placed it down.
I stared at her.
"Do you know what I think?"
"No."
"I think you knew Andrew was alive."
Her expression hardened.
"And I think you know where he is."
She walked closer.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
She looked toward the hallway.
"Both."
I stepped aside.
"Then we're done."
She stared at me.
"What?"
"Our engagement."
She blinked.
"Alex."
"You lied to me."
"I lied because I was trying to protect you."
"From Andrew?"
"From what follows him."
Before she could say anything else, the lights went out.
The whole house plunged into darkness.
Noah screamed upstairs.
I ran.
His bedroom door was open.
The guards were unconscious.
The window was shattered.
And Noah was gone.
I grabbed my flashlight.
"NOAH!"
Nothing.
Then I saw muddy footprints.
They led from the bedroom to the library.
From the library to the basement door.
The basement.
A part of the house I rarely used.
My grandfather had built it as a wine cellar.
Now I realized something.
The footprints stopped at the old brick wall.
I searched the wall.
My fingers touched a hidden latch.
The panel opened.
Behind it was a narrow staircase.
Someone had built a second basement beneath the first.
I descended.
The air smelled damp.
At the bottom was a room filled with filing cabinets.
And in the center of the room was a chair.
Noah was sitting in it.
A man stood behind him.
I aimed my gun.
"Let him go."
The man lifted his hands.
"Put the weapon down, Alex."
I knew the voice.
I turned on the flashlight.
The beam hit his face.
My world stopped.
Older.
Scar across his cheek.
Grayer.
But unmistakable.
Andrew.
My brother.
Alive.
Noah jumped from the chair.
"Dad!"
Andrew caught him.
I could barely breathe.
"You..."
Andrew looked at me.
"I know."
"You've been alive."
"Yes."
"For six years."
"Yes."
"You let us believe you were dead."
"Because I had to."
I raised the gun.
"Why?"
Andrew looked at the wall.
"It started with Vanessa."
The room seemed to shrink.
"What did she do?"
"She wasn't supposed to be part of the family."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Explain."
Andrew walked toward a desk.
He opened a drawer.
Inside were dozens of documents.
"Six years ago, I discovered something."
"What?"
"Someone had been moving money through Whitmore accounts."
"Who?"
Andrew looked me in the eye.
"Vanessa."
I stared.
"That's impossible."
"I saw the transfers."
"Why would she?"
"Because she wasn't working alone."
"With whom?"
Andrew didn't answer.
Instead, he handed me a photograph.
My mother.
Vanessa.
And a man I had never seen.
They were standing together.
The photograph was dated five years ago.
One year after Andrew's supposed death.
I looked at Andrew.
"My mother?"
He nodded.
"I didn't want you to know."
"Who is that man?"
Andrew's expression changed.
"That's the part that almost killed me."
Suddenly, footsteps echoed above us.
Andrew grabbed Noah.
"Someone is in the house."
I raised my gun.
"Who?"
Andrew looked at the ceiling.
"Vanessa."
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Then the basement door slammed shut.
And the sound of the lock turning came from the other side.
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