Part 5
“You sound unconvinced.”
“I’m told a lot of things in houses like this.”
She folded her arms. “Have you found the attacker?”
“No.”
“Do you believe the person is still inside?”
“I believe they may have had help.”
“From whom?”
Rusk set the evidence bag down. “Your security system was disabled in three separate places. The feed from the corridor wasn’t merely cut. A loop was inserted for ninety seconds before the live image returned.”
“Owen could do that.”
“Yes.”
“So could Martin.”
“Possibly.”
“Adrian?”
“Possibly.”
“Edwin?”
Rusk watched her.
She understood the implication.
“You think Edwin disabled the cameras?”
“I think Mr. Vale accessed the security control room at nine twelve last night.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Celeste looked at the desk where Edwin had sorted her father’s correspondence for almost four decades. The blotter was aligned precisely with the edge. Three pencils had been sharpened to identical lengths.
“Was there anyone Edwin feared?” Rusk asked.
“No.”
“Anyone he owed money?”
“Not that I know.”
“Anyone who owed him?”
The question sounded different.
Celeste looked toward him.
Rusk tapped the encrypted disk. “Your steward received seven transfers over the past eleven months from a consulting company registered in Delaware. Total, four hundred eighty thousand dollars.”
Celeste laughed once, without humor. “Edwin did not consult.”
“I know.”
“What company?”
“Northlight Strategic Holdings.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Your family foundation paid Northlight three point two million dollars over the same period.”
The room tilted slightly.
“For what?”
“Security modernization, according to the invoices.”
Celeste turned toward the open files.
They had modernized nothing. The cameras were six years old. The gate system failed every winter. Owen had requested a full replacement twice and been denied.
“Who approved the payments?”
Rusk did not answer immediately.
Celeste already knew.
Her electronic signature was on every foundation expenditure above two hundred thousand dollars.
“I did,” she said.
“Did you review the invoices?”
“Yes.”
The lie came automatically.
Rusk’s expression remained neutral.
Celeste corrected herself. “My office reviewed them.”
“Who in your office?”
“Edwin prepared the authorization packets. I signed them.”
“How closely did you read them?”
She looked at the floor.
Rusk closed one of the drawers. “We’ll need access to the foundation’s financial records.”
“You’ll have it.”
“And your personal devices.”
She lifted her eyes. “Why?”
“Because the approvals came from your credentials.”
“Are you suggesting I stole from my own foundation?”
“I’m suggesting someone used your name.”
A memory returned with humiliating clarity: Edwin standing beside her during a board call, sliding papers one by one beneath her hand while she answered questions about museum acquisitions. Sign here. Initial there. Routine maintenance. Insurance renewal. Coastal erosion study.
She had trusted him because he had known how she took her tea at twelve years old.
Rusk’s phone rang. He listened for less than a minute, then ended the call.
“What?”
“Mr. Vale is awake.”
Celeste reached Saint Catherine’s shortly before ten.
The intensive care unit smelled of disinfectant and burned coffee. Adrian met her outside Edwin’s room.
“He can speak, but only briefly,” he said. “His heart rhythm is stable. There may be some short-term confusion.”
“Has the sheriff questioned him?”
“Not yet.”
“Can I see him?”
Adrian studied her face. “You can.”
Edwin looked smaller in the hospital bed than he had on the daybed. Without the waistcoat, keys, and measured posture, he seemed less like an institution and more like an aging man with bruises spreading beneath electrode patches.
His eyes opened when Celeste approached.
“Miss Marrow,” he whispered.
It had been years since he had called her that in private.
She sat beside him. “You’re safe.”
His gaze shifted toward the doorway.
“Lena?”
“She saved you.”
His eyes closed.
“Edwin, who attacked you?”
His throat moved. “Couldn’t see.”
“The person came through the garden corridor.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
He opened his eyes again. Fear sharpened them.
“Case,” he whispered.
“What case?”
“Black.”
“We saw it.”
His fingers moved under the blanket as if searching for something. “Did they take it?”
“Take what?”
“The ledger.”
Celeste leaned closer. “What ledger?”
Edwin looked toward Adrian.
Adrian stepped nearer. “Mr. Vale, your heart rate is rising. You need to rest.”
Edwin ignored him. “Library. Marrow atlas.”
“The maritime atlas?”
His hand closed weakly around Celeste’s wrist.
“Don’t trust—”
The monitor accelerated.
“Who?” Celeste asked.
Adrian touched her shoulder. “Enough.”
“Edwin, who shouldn’t I trust?”
His mouth opened, but a cough overtook him. The monitor alarmed.
Adrian moved Celeste aside and called for a nurse.
She stood against the wall while Edwin struggled for breath. A respiratory therapist entered, then another nurse. Someone pulled a curtain between them.
Adrian emerged two minutes later.
“He needs quiet.”
“What was he trying to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You heard him.”
“I heard two words.”
“Don’t trust.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Adrian’s patience thinned. “He didn’t say.”
Celeste watched him remove his gloves.
“Where is your medical bag?”
“With the sheriff.”
“The attacker had one like it.”
“So do thousands of physicians.”
“The injector tip was custom.”
“I know.”
“Who makes custom injectors?”
“Specialty pharmacies. Veterinary suppliers. Research labs. Anyone with precision manufacturing access.”
“Could Northlight Strategic Holdings have access?”
Adrian frowned. “What is Northlight?”
Before Celeste could answer, Sheriff Rusk arrived.
He listened to her account of Edwin’s words without comment.
“The Marrow atlas is in the library,” she said. “He hid something in it.”
“Then we’ll retrieve it.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“It is my house.”
“It is an active crime scene.”
“It may involve my foundation.”
“That makes you more involved, not less.”
Celeste stepped close. “Sheriff, Edwin has served my family since before I was born. Someone tried to kill him in my home using money stolen under my signature. I have already misjudged the only person who kept him alive. I will not sit in a hallway while other people decide which truths I’m permitted to hear.”
May you like
Rusk regarded her for a long moment.
“Your family name has opened a lot of doors,” he said. “It doesn’t open mine.”
