Part 10
Rusk crouched in front of him. “Who attacked you?”
Edwin’s gaze shifted to the open door. “I didn’t see the face.”
“Who knew you would be in the library?”
“Too many.”
“Who helped you leave the hospital?”
“A driver I paid years ago to ask no questions.”
“That driver has a name.”
“Then ask him.”
Rusk’s patience hardened. “You are obstructing an attempted-murder investigation.”
Edwin looked almost amused. “I have been obstructing investigations since before you learned to shave.”
Celeste stared at him.
There he was. Not the wounded man on the daybed. Not the faithful servant from family photographs. A person who had spent forty years deciding which truths entered the room.
“Did you steal from the foundation?” she asked.
Edwin looked at her.
“Northlight paid you nearly half a million dollars.”
“It was not payment.”
“What was it?”
“Money I moved where it could not disappear.”
“Into your account.”
“Temporarily.”
“For eleven months?”
“I was building evidence.”
“Why not tell me?”
He looked away.
Celeste’s voice sharpened. “Why not tell me?”
“Because you would have called a meeting.”
The accuracy of it silenced her.
“You would have brought in lawyers,” Edwin continued. “Your aunt would have demanded discretion. The trustees would have hired consultants. Someone would have leaked a controlled version to the press. By the time anyone asked the right question, the records would be gone.”
“So you took control.”
“Someone had to.”
It was the family creed, spoken again.
Celeste sat back on her heels. “Did you frame Lena for stealing the tie pin?”
Edwin’s face changed.
“Answer me.”
“I needed her out of the house.”
“Why?”
“She saw documents.”
“So you planted my father’s pin?”
“I placed it in my desk.”
“After accusing her.”
“I did not expect the matter to escalate.”
“She lost wages.”
“I arranged compensation.”
“You tried to buy her resignation with her mother’s illness.”
His eyes closed briefly. “I gave her an option.”
“You used her fear.”
“I was trying to keep her alive.”
Celeste stopped.
Edwin looked toward the files. “Whoever revived Northlight knew she had seen me burning copies. They asked whether she had spoken to you.”
“Who asked?”
“I received a message.”
“From whom?”
“An encrypted account.”
“Did you save it?”
“In the drive.”
“Why didn’t you warn Lena?”
“I did. She would not leave.”
“You accused her of theft.”
“I made the danger visible.”
“To whom?”
“To her.”
“No. You made her vulnerable to everyone.”
Edwin’s mouth trembled. “I misjudged.”
Celeste thought of Lena on the carpet, saying the same thing without words.
Rusk took the document case. “We are returning to the mainland.”
Edwin resisted weakly. “No.”
“That was not a request.”
On the launch, Adrian monitored Edwin’s heart while Rusk guarded the files. Owen held gauze to his forehead. Celeste sat at the stern and watched Bellweather recede.
No one spoke for several minutes.
Then Edwin said, “The person in the raincoat was left-handed.”
Rusk looked up. “How do you know?”
“The injector entered behind my left ear from the rear. Their left hand caught my jaw.”
“Anything else?”
“They smelled of cloves.”
Adrian frowned.
“What?” Celeste asked.
“Miriam chewed clove gum,” he said. “After the accident, she said mint made her nauseated.”
Rusk’s gaze sharpened. “You neglected to mention that.”
“I had not smelled the attacker.”
“Convenient.”
Adrian leaned back. “You can accuse me after his heart rate settles.”
Edwin’s fingers closed around Celeste’s sleeve.
“Not Miriam,” he whispered.
“Why not?”
“Too easy.”
At the mainland dock, deputies surrounded them.
Sheriff Rusk handed off the archive personally. Edwin was returned to Saint Catherine’s under guard.
Celeste went home just after midnight and found Beatrice in the library.
The evidence markers had been removed, but the daybed remained bare. Rain had begun again. The security monitor displayed restored feeds, including the empty glass corridor.
Beatrice poured two fingers of whiskey into a crystal glass.
“You should not be here,” Celeste said.
“It remains my family’s house.”
“It is my house.”
Beatrice drank. “There she is.”
Celeste closed the doors.
“Did you know Edwin framed Lena?”
“No.”
“Did you know Northlight paid him?”
“No.”
“Did you know the Bellweather property still existed?”
“Yes.”
“Why lie?”
“Because your father’s research should have stayed buried.”
“It nearly killed Edwin.”
“Your father has been dead twelve years. Blame should not acquire immortality.”
“Consequences do.”
Beatrice set down the glass. “You have spent one day among police reports and suddenly you speak like a prosecutor.”
“I signed three million dollars away without reading the invoices.”
“Yes.”
The directness stunned her.
Beatrice looked tired. Not elegant tired, the kind achieved with dim lighting and a hand to the brow. Her skin seemed loose around her mouth.
“You knew?”
“I knew you did not read everything.”
“And you let me.”
“You insisted on taking control of the foundation.”
“I was twenty-seven.”
“You were certain.”
“So you waited for me to fail?”
“I waited for you to learn.”
Celeste laughed once. “That lesson cost three million dollars and almost cost a man his life.”
“Do not flatter yourself. The failure began before you.”
“Then tell me how.”
Beatrice stared into her whiskey.
“The research accident did not injure only Miriam Saye,” she said. “Six patients developed cardiac complications. Two died within a year.”
Celeste’s breath caught.
“Were they told?”
“Their families received settlements.”
“From Northlight.”
“From several entities.”
“Did my father know the drug was dangerous?”
“He knew the results were inconsistent.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Beatrice looked at her. “He knew enough to stop the trial.”
“After how many doses?”
Silence.
“How many?”
“Twenty-three.”
Celeste turned away.
The restored security monitor showed the corridor in real time. Light reflected from rain on the glass roof. For a moment, she imagined the hooded figure crossing again.
“Why revive the company?” she asked.
“I did not.”
“Your initials are in Edwin’s ledger.”
“Because Edwin believed I had.”
“Did you meet someone in the corridor?”
Beatrice’s shoulders lowered.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
May you like
“Miriam Saye.”
Celeste turned.
