Chapter 9 - THE BASEMENT
Vincent took Mom's phone.
“You're not going.”
Mom snatched it back.
“Yes, I am.”
“That's a threat.”
“I can read.”
“They want you there.”
“Then maybe they want something I have.”
Vincent's voice sharpened.
“You have Rory.”
Mom stopped.
That ended the argument.
I stayed at the mansion with Naomi and three guards.
Mom hated leaving me.
I hated being left.
Before she went, I grabbed her sleeve.
“Don't die.”
Her face broke.
She crouched.
“I won't.”
“Promise?”
She hesitated.
Then kissed my forehead.
“I promise I'll fight very hard to come home.”
That was a better promise.
Vincent took Mom to the restaurant.
Later, she told me what happened.
Firefighters had contained the flames to the rear office.
The dining room survived.
The basement entrance was hidden behind shelves in dry storage.
Mom showed Vincent.
“You've been down there?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“I dropped my keys. Heard men talking.”
“Who?”
“David.”
“And?”
“I don't know.”
They descended.
The basement smelled like bleach and old concrete.
Metal filing cabinets lined one wall.
Most were empty.
Someone had arrived first.
Vincent found burn marks near a steel drum.
Documents had been destroyed.
Mom saw a corner of paper beneath a cabinet.
She pulled it free.
A partial ledger page.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Vincent's name appeared twice.
So did Anthony Vale.
Then Mom saw another.
B. Carter
She froze.
Vincent noticed.
“Ben?”
“I don't know.”
A sound came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Vincent reached inside his jacket.
Mom glared.
“What?”
“You brought a gun.”
“Emily, this is not the time.”
A shadow appeared at the top of the stairs.
Vincent aimed.
“Stop.”
The figure froze.
“Don't shoot.”
Claire.
Mom stared.
Her sister's hospital gown had been replaced by jeans and a sweatshirt.
“You escaped too?”
Claire shook her head.
“I was released into police custody.”
“Clearly not anymore.”
“I ran.”
Vincent kept the gun raised.
“Bad decision.”
Claire looked terrified.
“David's going to kill me.”
Mom laughed.
“You expect sympathy?”
“No.”
Claire's eyes filled.
“I expect you to hate me.”
“Good.”
“But David did worse than steal payroll.”
Vincent lowered the gun slightly.
“Talk.”
Claire swallowed.
“Sterling Holdings is a shell.”
“For what?”
“Vale's money.”
Vincent glanced at the ledger.
“I figured that out.”
“No.”
Claire shook her head.
“You haven't.”
She pointed toward the basement wall.
“There's another room.”
Mom stared.
“What room?”
Claire moved to a pipe.
Twisted a valve.
A section of shelving released.
Behind it was a narrow door.
Vincent looked at Mom.
“You worked here fourteen months.”
“I served food. I wasn't Indiana Jones.”
Despite everything, Vincent smirked.
Claire opened the hidden door.
Inside were servers.
Computers.
Stacks of documents.
And photographs.
Hundreds.
Police officers.
Judges.
Business owners.
Politicians.
Vincent went still.
“What is this?”
Claire whispered,
“Insurance.”
“For Vale?”
“For David.”
Mom picked up a picture.
A city inspector accepting an envelope.
Another showed a police captain entering a hotel.
Another showed Anthony Vale meeting David.
Then Mom found one that made her stop.
A photograph of my father.
Ben Carter.
Alive.
Standing beside David Sterling.
Date stamped four months before Ben's fatal car crash.
Vincent looked at her.
“You said they didn't know each other.”
“They didn't.”
Claire began crying.
“Yes, they did.”
Mom turned.
“What?”
Claire's face collapsed.
“Ben found the first fake payroll account.”
Mom couldn't move.
Claire continued.
“He threatened to expose David.”
Mom whispered,
“No.”
“Emily—”
“No.”
“Ben's car crash…”
Claire looked at Vincent.
Then back at Mom.
May you like
“It wasn't an accident.”
And somewhere above them, the basement door slammed shut.
