Chương 8
The photograph had been taken at a charity dinner.
Arthur had donated three million dollars to a children’s hospital that night.
Two days later, he had ordered a dockworker beaten for stealing from a shipment.
Julian had known about both.
For years, he had treated the contradiction as sophistication.
Now it looked like cowardice.
He picked up the photograph and opened the back.
Nothing.
He laughed under his breath at himself.
Of course nothing.
People in stories hid documents behind photographs.
Arthur Hale hid documents in places nobody knew existed.
Julian put the frame down.
His phone buzzed.
A text from Nathan.
DON’T TRUST ADRIAN.
Julian stared at it.
Another message came.
HE WAS THERE BEFORE THE FIRE STARTED.
Julian typed nothing.
A third message appeared.
ASK HIM WHO DIED.
Julian’s thumb froze above the screen.
The official report had named the dead employee.
Peter Salazar.
Thirty-nine.
Maintenance supervisor.
Two children.
Julian remembered sending money to the widow.
He remembered Arthur telling him not to attend the funeral because their presence would turn grief into spectacle.
At the time, it had sounded considerate.
Now Julian could hear his father’s voice in the sentence.
He called Adrian.
No answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Julian stood.
He crossed into the security room.
“Marcus.”
No response.
He checked the hall.
Empty.
Then his office phone rang.
Not his cell.
The landline.
Almost nobody used it.
Julian answered.
No greeting.
A man’s voice said, “You should have left the woman alone.”
Julian’s expression emptied.
“Who is this?”
“You know what happens when you keep digging.”
Julian glanced at the call display.
Blocked.
“Then why call?”
A pause.
“Because your wife made the same mistake.”
Julian’s grip tightened.
“Say her name.”
The caller was silent.
Julian said, “If you knew Claire, say her name.”
The voice gave a faint laugh.
“You think this is a test?”
“I think cowards borrow dead people because they don’t have anything worth saying themselves.”
The laugh disappeared.
“You sound like your father.”
Julian’s face hardened.
“That usually scared people.”
“It should scare you.”
The line went dead.
Julian immediately dialed Marcus.
No answer.
He left the office at once.
“Marcus.”
His voice carried down the corridor.
One of the guards at the stair landing looked over.
“Boss?”
“Where is Bell?”
“He went to the garage.”
“Why?”
“Said you wanted vehicle records.”
Julian cursed under his breath.
Of course he had.
He headed toward the service stairs.
Halfway there, Grace appeared at the top landing.
She was barefoot now.
“What happened?”
“Go back in the room.”
Her face tightened.
“What happened?”
“Grace.”
“You only say my name like that when you’re not going to answer.”
Julian stopped beneath the stairs.
“Someone called the office.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did they say?”
Julian hesitated.
Grace saw it.
“What did they say?”
“They mentioned Claire.”
The color left her face.
Amara called faintly from behind her, “Mommy?”
Grace turned.
“I’m right here.”
Her voice changed instantly.
She looked back down at Julian.
“I need one minute.”
She went into the room and returned less than a minute later with shoes on and her phone in hand.
“You’re staying upstairs.”
“No.”
“This is not a negotiation.”
“It became one when somebody broke into my apartment.”
Julian climbed two steps.
“Your daughter is asleep.”
“And I’m not leaving her alone.”
“You won’t.”
Grace stared at him.
Then she understood.
“You’re moving us.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safer.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh.
“This mansion has armed guards and walls.”
“And somebody still knew you were here.”
Grace’s expression changed.
Julian continued.
“That means either we were watched coming in, someone followed you earlier, or someone inside this house is talking.”
Grace looked down the corridor.
The mansion suddenly seemed less secure than it had five minutes earlier.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have how many employees here?”
“Tonight, fourteen.”
“And guards?”
“Six.”
Grace shook her head.
“That is not comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
She rubbed one hand across her forehead.
“Where would we go?”
“A property nobody associates with me.”
“You have one of those?”
“I have several.”
Grace looked at him.
“Of course you do.”
Julian almost responded.
A sharp sound echoed from somewhere below.
Not a gunshot.
Metal striking concrete.
Julian turned immediately.
Another sound followed.
Then Marcus shouted from the garage level.
“Julian!”
Julian ran.
Two guards converged from the opposite corridor.
He reached the garage entrance and found Marcus kneeling beside Tomas.
Blood ran from a cut above Tomas’s eyebrow.
The rear service door stood open.
Julian’s gaze swept the room.
“What happened?”
Marcus pointed toward the exit.
“He caught somebody inside.”
“Who?”
“Got away.”
Julian crouched beside Tomas.
The guard was conscious but dazed.
“What did you see?”
Tomas blinked hard.
“Maintenance uniform.”
“Face?”
“Mask.”
“Height?”
“Maybe six feet.”
“Build?”
“Medium.”
“What was he doing?”
Tomas swallowed.
“Under the SUV.”
Julian stood sharply.
Marcus was already moving.
“Don’t touch it.”
Julian looked toward the black armored vehicle parked three bays down.
A small pool of clear liquid spread beneath the rear axle.
Marcus crouched several feet away and used his phone light.
“Brake line.”
Grace had followed despite being told not to.
She stopped in the doorway.
Julian turned on her.
“I told you to stay upstairs.”
Her eyes were fixed on the vehicle.
“That’s the car you were going to put us in?”
Nobody answered.
Grace’s face went cold.
“Was it?”
Julian said, “Yes.”
She looked at the severed line.
Then at Tomas bleeding on the floor.
Then at Julian.
“They knew.”
Julian’s phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
Adrian.
Julian answered.
“Where were you?”
“Driving.”
Adrian sounded breathless.
“Why?”
“Because I found out who accessed Nathan’s office.”
Julian’s eyes remained on the damaged SUV.
“Who?”
Adrian paused.
“It wasn’t Nathan.”
“Then who?”
“A temporary security badge entered the executive floor at 1:58 that morning.”
“Name.”
“There isn’t one.”
Julian’s patience snapped.
“Adrian.”
“The badge was issued through an old vendor profile.”
May you like
“Whose?”
Adrian’s breath caught.
