Chapter 3 - THE BANK
Adrian barely slept.
At 7:58 the next morning, he was standing outside First National Trust with Sophie beside him and Vanessa nowhere in sight.
He hadn’t told Vanessa where they were going.
He had simply told her to leave the house.
She screamed.
Threatened him.
Cried.
Then, when none of that worked, she packed an overnight bag and left.
But Adrian knew Vanessa.
She never gave up control easily.
The bank manager, an older woman named Margaret Hale, went pale when Adrian showed her the key.
“Where did you get that?”
“My late wife hid it inside my daughter’s teddy bear.”
Margaret stared at Sophie.
“Oh, my God.”
“You knew Emily?”
Margaret shut the office door.
“She came here three weeks before she died.”
Adrian’s heartbeat quickened.
“For what?”
“To change access instructions on her box.”
“Box 317?”
Margaret nodded.
“She made me promise no one could access it unless they had the key and brought Sophie with them.”
Adrian looked at his daughter.
“Why Sophie?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Because Emily was afraid.”
“Of who?”
Margaret reached for the phone.
“I should call security before we go downstairs.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“Afraid of who?”
Margaret whispered, “Vanessa Reed.”
Sophie grabbed Adrian’s sleeve.
Adrian felt the room tilt.
“How did Emily know Vanessa?”
Margaret looked genuinely confused.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
Margaret opened a drawer and removed an envelope.
On the front, in Emily’s handwriting, were three words.
FOR ADRIAN ONLY.
His hands trembled.
“When did she leave this?”
“The same day she changed the box instructions.”
Adrian opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Adrian,
If you are reading this, then I was right to be afraid.
Do not trust Vanessa.
Do not trust what anyone told you about my accident.
And whatever you do, don’t let Vanessa know Sophie has the key.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.
I thought I could fix it myself.
—Emily
Adrian read it twice.
Then a third time.
“My accident?”
Emily had died from complications after a car crash.
Everyone knew that.
A truck had forced her off a wet road.
The driver was never found.
Adrian looked at Margaret.
“What’s in the box?”
“I don’t know.”
“Take me there.”
They rode the elevator down to the vault.
Margaret unlocked the outer mechanism.
Adrian inserted the brass key.
Click.
Inside box 317 sat a flash drive, a folder of documents, and a black phone.
An old phone.
Emily’s phone.
Adrian picked it up.
The battery was dead.
The folder contained bank records.
Payments.
Transfers.
A company name appeared again and again.
VR Consulting.
Adrian knew those initials.
Vanessa Reed.
Then Sophie pointed at a photograph under the documents.
“Daddy.”
Adrian pulled it out.
The picture showed Emily standing outside a restaurant.
Across from her was Vanessa.
The date printed on the corner was six months before Emily’s death.
Vanessa had always claimed she never met Emily.
But the photo proved she had lied.
Then Margaret’s office assistant rushed into the vault.
“Mr. Cole?”
Adrian turned.
“You need to come upstairs.”
“What happened?”
“There’s a woman demanding to see you.”
“Vanessa?”
The assistant shook her head.
“No.”
She looked terrified.
May you like
“She says she was Emily’s private investigator.”
And she says your wife was murdered.
