Chapter 3: The Woman Who Was Dead
The photograph remained between us.
My father smiling.
Vanessa smiling.
And behind them, a woman Vanessa claimed had been dead for eighteen years.
Detective Hall took the photo from my hand.
“Are you certain?””
Vanessa nodded.
“I identified her myself.””
“Where?””
“At the hospital.””
“What hospital?””
“St. Agnes.””
“When?””
“The night she died.””
Hall looked at me.
“Marcus, do you know her?””
I shook my head.
“Not personally.””
“Have you ever heard the name Lena Carter?””
“Only tonight.””
Vanessa’s hands were shaking.
Grant sat down.
“Mrs. Carter, you need to tell us why your husband photographed a woman who was supposedly dead.””
“I don’t know.””
“That’s not good enough.””
“I said I don’t know.””
I stepped toward her.
“You knew about the envelope.””
She looked at me.
“You knew about the transfers.””
“No.””
“The money went to an account in Lena’s name.””
“I didn’t send it.””
“You knew who she was.””
Her lips trembled.
“I knew who she had been.””
“That’s not the same thing.””
“She was my sister.””
The words landed softly.
Somehow, that made them worse.
Hall pulled out a notebook.
“Start from the beginning.””
Vanessa sat down.
For several seconds, she stared at the floor.
Then she said, “Lena and I were twins.””
I looked at her.
“You never told me you had a twin.””
“She wasn’t supposed to exist.””
Grant frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Vanessa rubbed her palms together.
“Our father had debts. Gambling debts. We grew up with nothing. Lena was wild.
She stole. Lied. She disappeared for days.””
“She sounds charming,” I said.
Vanessa ignored me.
“When we were twenty-one, Lena found out our father had been hiding money from creditors.””
Hall asked, “How much?””
“Enough to change everything.””
“And your father?””
“He threatened to turn her in.””
Vanessa’s voice cracked.
“She ran.””
“To where?””
“I don’t know.””
“Then how did she die?””
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“There was a car accident.””
“Who was driving?””
“Lena.””
“Was anyone else involved?””
“No.””
Hall wrote something down.
“How did you identify the body?””
Vanessa looked up.
“There was a ring.””
“What kind?””
“A silver ring with a black stone.””
Hall’s pen stopped.
I looked at Grant.
He seemed to understand something.
“What?”” I asked.
Grant opened the envelope again.
He searched through the photographs and financial records.
Then he pulled out a photocopy.
At the bottom of the image was a close-up of a woman’s hand.
A silver ring.
Black stone.
Vanessa stood.
“No.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
She backed away from the desk.
“That photograph…”
“It was taken last year,” Grant said.
Vanessa shook her head.
“That’s not possible.””
Hall examined the copy.
“Where was this photo taken?””
Grant read the notation.
“Carter Holdings’ London office.””
My heart started beating faster.
“My father knew she was alive.””
Vanessa shook her head violently.
“Richard thought she was alive.””
“What’s the difference?””
“He was obsessed with finding her.””
“Why?””
Vanessa looked at me.
“Because he blamed himself.””
“For the accident?””
“For everything.””
Hall closed his notebook.
“Mrs. Carter, were you involved in any financial transfers to an account belonging to Lena?””
“No.””
“Did Richard give you access to his accounts?””
“Yes.””
“How much access?””
“All of it.””
I looked at her.
“That’s convenient.””
Her head snapped toward me.
“You think I murdered my husband?””
“I think you’re lying.””
She stepped closer.
“You have no idea what I did for Richard.””
“Then tell me.””
“I protected him.””
“From what?””
“From people who wanted him dead.””
Hall intervened.
“Enough.””
He looked at Vanessa.
“You’ll come with us to answer some questions.””
She recoiled.
“I’m not under arrest.””
“Not yet.””
Her face tightened.
“Marcus, tell them.””
“Tell them what?””
“That your father was confused in the end.””
“What?””
“He wasn’t thinking clearly. Medication can affect memory.””
I stared at her.
“My father knew exactly what he was doing.””
“You don’t know that.””
“I was there.””
“So was I.””
Hall turned to Grant.
“I need the original documents.””
Grant gave him copies instead.
“You’ll get the originals through the proper process.””
Hall nodded.
As he escorted Vanessa toward the hallway, she suddenly stopped.
She turned around.
“Marcus.””
I didn’t answer.
“Your father loved you.””
The sentence sounded wrong coming from her.
She continued.
“Everything he did was to protect you.””
“Then why did he leave evidence against you?””
Her eyes narrowed.
“He didn’t.””
“What?””
She smiled.
For the first time that night, the fear disappeared.
“I told you,” she said.
“Richard was sick.””
Then she walked away.
The front door closed behind her.
I remained in the study with Grant.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “There’s something she’s right about.””
“What?””
“Your father wasn’t afraid for himself.””
I looked at the letter again.
Do not defend yourself until Grant gives you the file marked NORTHSTAR.
I picked up the USB drive.
“We need to find it.””
Grant nodded.
“My office.””
“No.””
He looked surprised.
“My father hid this here for a reason.””
I searched the shelves.
Books.
Old tax records.
Photographs.
Awards.
Nothing.
Grant opened the desk drawers again.
I checked underneath them.
Still nothing.
Then I remembered something.
When I was eight, my father had taught me to play chess in this room.
The old chessboard sat inside a glass cabinet.
I opened it.
The pieces were still arranged from our last game.
Black queen.
White bishop.
Two rooks.
My father had always said the same thing when teaching me.
“You never look at the piece being attacked, Marcus. You look at what the attacker is protecting.””
I stared at the board.
Then I noticed the black king.
It was slightly crooked.
I lifted it.
A soft click came from beneath the board.
The bottom compartment opened.
Inside was a small metal key.
And a note.
I unfolded it.
*Northstar is not a file.*
My chest tightened.
There was more.
*It is a person.*
Underneath was an address.
I recognized the street.
So did Grant.
He went pale.
“That’s the Carter Foundation.””
“My father’s charity?””
“Yes.””
“Why would he hide a person there?””
Grant looked at the key in my palm.
“I don’t think he did.””
He pointed to the final line.
*When Marcus finds this, tell him to ask Evelyn what happened the night Lena died.*
“Who’s Evelyn?”” I asked.
Grant didn’t answer.
He was staring at the signature.
Because beneath my father’s name was another line.
A witness signature.
The witness was not Evelyn.
It was Vanessa.
May you like
And beside her signature was a date from eighteen years earlier.
The same night Lena supposedly died.