Chương 7
The color did not leave Sabrina’s face.
That would have been too easy.
Instead her shoulders softened.
Her eyes lowered.
When she spoke, the anger was gone.
“Yes.”
Roman set the fork down.
“You never told me.”
“He was ashamed.”
“He stole from a freight company tied to my father.”
“He didn’t know it was tied to your father.”
“Did you?”
“Not then.”
“And later?”
Sabrina took a breath.
“Yes.”
Roman watched her.
“When?”
“After Daniel died.”
“How?”
“I found papers.”
“What papers?”
“In his apartment.”
“Where are they?”
“Gone.”
“You destroyed them?”
“I threw away a lot of things.”
“Why?”
“Because my brother was dead.”
Her voice cracked just enough that Roman could not tell whether it was genuine.
“I was cleaning out his apartment alone while my mother was sedated and barely functioning.”
She turned away.
“You didn’t know him.”
“I met him twice.”
“You met the version he showed strangers.”
Roman said nothing.
Sabrina faced him again.
“He gambled.”
“That wasn’t in the lawsuit.”
“No.”
“What else?”
“He owed people.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to believe that my family was a disaster long before you decided to investigate it.”
Roman felt the defensive edge in her voice and almost accepted it because it sounded human.
Then he noticed something else.
She had not asked why he was investigating Daniel.
Not once.
He looked down at the plate.
“Where did he die?”
“Phoenix.”
“What hospital?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“Where?”
“In a motel.”
“Which motel?”
Sabrina’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
“I don’t remember.”
Roman waited.
She laughed weakly.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“It was four years ago.”
“You flew there.”
“Yes.”
“You arranged the cremation.”
“My mother did most of it.”
“Which crematory?”
Sabrina stared at him.
“You’re being cruel.”
“Maybe.”
“This is sick.”
“Maybe.”
“You think Daniel is alive?”
Roman watched her eyes.
There.
Too fast.
Too specific.
He had never said that.
He picked up the fork again.
“No.”
Sabrina’s expression froze.
Roman cut a piece of chicken.
“You should sleep.”
She stood there another few seconds.
Then she walked out.
Roman did not touch the food after the door closed.
He counted to thirty.
At twenty-six, he heard her footsteps in the hallway.
At thirty, he reopened the security interface.
Sabrina’s phone appeared on the household network.
He was not stupid enough to access its contents without knowing what legal and technical complications he was creating.
But the estate system logged device movement through wireless access points.
Her phone moved from the second-floor hall toward the west wing.
Then it stopped.
Not in the guest suite.
Near the secondary staircase.
The staircase that led toward the library corridor.
Roman stood.
He did not follow immediately.
He went to the cabinet behind his desk and removed a small key.
The library safe had two systems.
An electronic keypad.
And a mechanical override almost nobody remembered existed.
Roman left the office through the opposite corridor.
The house felt different now.
Not haunted.
Observed.
He moved quietly down the narrow service stair and reached the library from the lower entrance.
The room was dark.
He did not turn on the lights.
The safe was hidden behind a framed landscape his mother hated.
Roman moved the painting aside.
The keypad glowed.
He entered his code.
The lock clicked.
He opened the door.
The Baltic contracts were gone.
Elena had told the truth.
Roman reached inside and felt along the back panel.
Nothing.
Then he heard a faint sound in the hallway.
A shoe against wood.
He closed the safe without locking it and stepped behind the heavy curtain beside the windows.
The library door opened.
Sabrina entered.
She carried no flashlight.
She went directly to the painting.
No hesitation.
No searching.
She lifted it.
Her hand went to the keypad.
Roman watched her enter six digits.
The safe opened.
Sabrina stared inside.
For three seconds, she did not move.
Then she whispered a single word.
“Damn.”
Roman remained behind the curtain.
Sabrina took out her phone.
She called someone.
The person answered almost immediately.
“They’re gone,” she said.
A pause.
“No, I checked.”
Another pause.
Her voice dropped.
“He found something.”
Roman’s fingers curled against the curtain fabric.
Sabrina listened.
Then she said, “I know.”
Another pause.
“No.”
Her eyes moved toward the library door.
“Elena has them.”
Roman felt something cold settle under his ribs.
Sabrina’s next words were quieter.
“He still thinks this is about money.”
She listened.
Then she whispered, “Keep watching the apartment.”
Roman stayed behind the curtain until Sabrina ended the call.
She did not leave immediately.
She stood in front of the open safe with one hand pressed against the edge of the door, breathing through her nose as if she were trying to slow herself down.
Then she took something from her pocket.
A small black device, no larger than a matchbox.
She pressed it against the inside lip of the safe.
Roman watched the tiny indicator blink once.
Sabrina removed it and slipped it back into her pocket.
Only then did she close the safe.
She did not lock it.
She lowered the painting and left the room.
Roman counted to twenty before moving.
His knees felt stiff when he stepped from behind the curtain.
He went directly to the safe.
There was no obvious mark where Sabrina had placed the device.
He ran a finger along the metal edge.
Nothing.
He took out his phone and photographed the interior anyway.
Then he called Luis.
“Change of plan.”
“That usually means I’m about to hate you.”
“Do you have someone who can inspect a safe for a contact scanner or residue without making it obvious?”
Luis went quiet.
“Why?”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight.”
“Roman.”
“Tonight.”
Luis exhaled.
“I can have someone there in forty minutes.”
“No uniforms.”
“You think I was going to send a van marked SECRET SAFE INSPECTION?”
Roman almost smiled.
Almost.
“Use the service entrance.”
“Fine.”
“And Luis.”
May you like
“Yeah?”
“The team on Elena stays.”
