Chapter 4 - The NotebookThe truth was written in Naomi's handwriting
Naomi spent the rest of Christmas Day searching.
Not for a legal loophole.
For memory.
She called her former colleague, Dr. Elaine Porter, just after noon.
Elaine answered on the fourth ring.
“Naomi?”
“Do you remember Richard helping me with the early education model?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
Naomi sat down.
“How much?”
“He wasn't a programmer.”
“I know.”
“But he understood systems.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you never asked.”
Naomi frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Elaine sighed.
“After your father died, Richard called me. He wanted to know what you were working on.”
“Why?”
“He said you were building something that could matter.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“What did he call it?”
Elaine laughed softly.
“He called it your impossible machine.”
Naomi smiled despite herself.
That sounded like Richard.
“What else did he say?”
“He said you were afraid to admit you had a good idea.”
Naomi looked at the notebook.
“He was right.”
“Maybe.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He asked me to keep something.”
Naomi's heart skipped.
“What?”
“A file.”
“Where is it?”
Elaine hesitated.
“I mailed it to you nine years ago.”
Naomi searched her memory.
“No.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Three weeks after Richard died.”
Naomi suddenly remembered a package.
Plain brown cardboard.
She had assumed it contained his belongings.
She never opened it.
Because she couldn't.
It had gone into storage.
Naomi stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Don't move.”
She drove through the rain to the storage unit.
The facility smelled like wet concrete and old cardboard.
Unit 214.
She unlocked it.
Boxes towered around her.
Retirement papers.
School books.
Family photographs.
Her father's things.
She searched for the brown box.
Twenty minutes.
Then thirty.
Finally, beneath an old classroom globe, she found it.
The box was covered in dust.
Naomi's name was written across the top.
In Richard's handwriting.
She sat on the floor.
For nearly a minute, she simply stared at it.
Then she opened it.
Inside were notebooks.
A USB drive.
Three printed documents.
And an envelope.
On the envelope:
Naomi. Open this when you stop being afraid of what happens next.
She started crying before she opened it.
Richard's letter was only two pages.
He apologized.
Not for stealing.
Not for claiming ownership.
For something else.
He wrote that he had found a way to help her make the learning model computationally adaptable.
He said he had never wanted credit.
He had planned to help her find a developer.
Then he wrote something Naomi had never expected.
Someone has already noticed what you're building.
Naomi's tears stopped.
She read the line again.
Below it:
If they come after the idea, don't fight them alone.
No name.
No explanation.
Just one final paragraph.
I think Arthur Bell knows more than he pretends to.
Naomi stared at the sentence.
Lauren's father.
Arthur.
The man who had just spent years sitting across Christmas dinner from her.
The man who had complained about too much salt in the turkey and then asked for leftovers.
The man who had hugged Sophie after her school recital.
The man who had supposedly been giving Scott financial advice.
Naomi looked at the USB drive.
Her phone rang.
Nina.
“What did you find?”
“I found Richard's notes.”
“And?”
“He named Arthur.”
Nina went silent.
“Then we have a problem.”
“No.”
Naomi's voice became strangely calm.
“We have an answer.”
“Naomi, don't rush.”
“I won't.”
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“The buyer's forensic team traced one of the old Clear Path backups.”
“Where?”
“Northstar.”
Naomi froze.
“So Richard was right.”
“Maybe.”
“What exactly did they find?”
“A copy of our earliest prototype.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
Naomi frowned.
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because that prototype didn't exist eight years ago.”
Nina said nothing.
Naomi looked at the notebook in her hands.
Then at Richard's letter.
Then at the USB.
She felt the pieces beginning to move.
Someone had taken something from the past.
But it wasn't clear enough yet to prove who.
She drove home.
At 5:42 p.m., she plugged in the USB.
There were only five files.
The first contained Richard's notes.
The second contained financial records.
The third contained screenshots of emails.
The fourth contained a short video.
The fifth had no title.
Naomi opened the video first.
Richard appeared on screen.
Older than she remembered him.
Tired.
Sitting at a desk.
He looked directly into the camera.
“If you're watching this, Naomi, something went wrong.”
She covered her mouth.
Richard continued.
“I couldn't prove it when I was alive.”
He paused.
“But I think someone inside our family has been helping them.”
Naomi's heart stopped.
Richard leaned closer to the camera.
“I don't know which one.”
The video ended.
Naomi sat motionless.
Then the fifth file opened automatically.
A spreadsheet appeared.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
There were only three people listed.
Arthur Bell.
Scott Mercer.
And one name Naomi never expected to see beside them.
Lauren Bell.
Her daughter-in-law.
Naomi stared at the screen.
Then one payment row caught her eye.
Christmas Eve.
May you like
Amount:
$250,000.
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