Chapter 8 - THE GRANDMOTHER
Dominic called Switzerland.
The private clinic where Beatrice Vale supposedly lived had no record of her.
The payments had been routed through a shell corporation.
The corporation belonged to Vincent.
Dominic sat in silence for almost a minute.
Then he looked at Marcus.
“Find her.”
Marcus nodded.
Clara stayed with Noah.
He had fallen asleep against her shoulder.
Dominic looked at him.
“My own mother.”
Clara said nothing.
Dominic continued.
“She adored Noah.”
“Maybe that's what you believed.”
He looked at her.
Clara regretted the words for half a second.
Then Dominic nodded.
“No.”
“That's what I was allowed to believe.”
Before dawn, Marcus found Beatrice.
Not in Switzerland.
Twenty-seven miles away.
A private estate registered to a holding company.
Dominic wanted to go personally.
Clara expected him to order her to remain behind.
Instead he looked at Noah.
“He stays with you.”
She nodded.
Dominic left with Marcus.
Two hours later, three SUVs returned.
Beatrice Vale stepped from the middle vehicle.
She was seventy.
Elegant.
Silver-haired.
Perfectly composed.
Until she saw Noah.
“My darling.”
Noah immediately hid behind Clara.
Beatrice stopped.
Pain crossed her face.
“Noah?”
The boy whispered.
“Bad Grandma.”
Dominic heard.
His mother did too.
Her expression collapsed.
Dominic led her into the library.
“You have one chance.”
Beatrice sat.
“Vincent is sick.”
“That isn't news.”
“He has always been sick.”
“And you protected him.”
“He was my son.”
“So am I.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“That is why I tried to protect you too.”
Dominic laughed without humor.
“By helping murder my wife?”
“I did not kill Elena.”
“You were in the car.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to stop Vincent.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Tell me everything.”
Beatrice closed her eyes.
“Elena called me that night.”
“She had evidence against Vincent.”
“She wanted me to convince him to surrender.”
“I begged her to go to the police.”
“She refused.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent had threatened Noah.”
Dominic looked toward the door.
Beatrice continued.
“We followed her.”
“Mercer was driving.”
“Vincent forced him.”
“That's convenient.”
“It is the truth.”
“What happened?”
“Elena stopped near Sheridan Road.”
“Vincent got out.”
“They argued.”
“She told him she had copied everything.”
“He grabbed her.”
“I tried to stop him.”
“Then another car arrived.”
Dominic frowned.
“Another?”
Beatrice nodded.
“Vincent wasn't the person who fired.”
Silence.
Dominic stared at her.
“Who was?”
“I never saw the shooter's face.”
“Bullshit.”
“The headlights blinded me.”
“Elena ran back to her SUV.”
“The shooter opened fire.”
“The vehicle rolled down the embankment.”
Dominic's eyes burned.
“And you did nothing?”
“I was terrified.”
“You left her there.”
Beatrice began crying.
“Yes.”
“You left my wife dying in a car.”
“Yes.”
Dominic stood.
For several seconds, Clara thought he might lose control.
Instead he walked to the window.
Beatrice whispered.
“I have hated myself every day.”
Dominic didn't turn.
“Hate doesn't resurrect people.”
“No.”
“But truth might save Noah.”
Dominic looked back.
“What truth?”
Beatrice reached into her coat.
Marcus immediately drew his gun.
“Slowly.”
She removed a key.
“A safe-deposit box.”
“What's inside?”
“Something Elena gave me before she died.”
Dominic stared.
“You've had evidence for two years?”
“I couldn't access it without alerting Vincent.”
Dominic's voice rose.
“MY SON WAS BEING DRUGGED!”
“I KNOW!”
Beatrice broke.
For the first time, the elegant woman disappeared.
“I KNOW WHAT I DID!”
Noah began crying outside.
Clara left the library.
She found him near the staircase.
He was staring toward the north wing.
“What is it?”
“Lady.”
Clara followed his gaze.
A woman stood at the far end of the corridor.
Thin.
Dirty clothes.
Long brown hair.
Clara's heart stopped.
The woman looked terrified.
She raised one finger to her lips.
Then she disappeared behind the wall.
Clara grabbed Noah.
“Dominic!”
Everyone rushed out.
“What?”
“There was a woman upstairs.”
Marcus sent guards.
They searched the corridor.
Nobody.
Then one guard shouted.
“Found something!”
Behind another hidden panel was a tiny room.
A mattress lay on the floor.
Empty food containers were stacked beside it.
Someone had been living inside the mansion walls.
On the mattress lay a driver's license.
Clara picked it up.
The photograph matched the woman she had seen.
The name read:
May you like
LAUREN PIERCE.
The missing nanny.
