Chapter 14 - The Memory Samuel Buried
June woke in a house she recognized.
Not immediately.
Memory arrived through smell.
Dust.
Cedar.
Old cigarettes.
Then she remembered.
Her father’s hunting cabin.
She had not been there since she was eight.
Victor Hale sat across from her.
No restraints.
No weapon visible.
That frightened her more.
“You.”
Victor looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where’s Elaine?”
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“Safe for the moment.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I removed you before someone else could.”
June laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps protecting me.”
Victor flinched.
Good.
“What do you want?”
“A memory.”
She stared.
“I don’t understand.”
“Your father told mine something before both men died.”
“My father didn’t die when I thought.”
“No.”
“You knew.”
Victor looked down.
“Yes.”
“I hate you.”
“You should.”
That answer took some of the energy from her anger.
Victor continued.
“Samuel hid the master index.”
“What index?”
“The key connecting real names to Account Seventeen codes.”
“Where?”
“We don’t know.”
“And you think I do.”
“Yes.”
“I was nine.”
“Exactly.”
June felt cold.
Victor leaned forward.
“Your father believed children remember things adults overlook.”
“He used me?”
“He trusted you.”
“That’s a nicer word.”
Victor accepted the rebuke.
“He gave you a rhyme.”
June froze.
Something old moved in her memory.
A bedtime game.
Her father tapping her nose.
Seventeen birds.
Sixteen trees.
A blue moon over—
She stopped.
Victor saw it.
“You remember.”
“No.”
“June.”
“Don’t.”
He leaned back.
“I won’t force it.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I know.”
“You threatened my mother years ago?”
“No.”
“Someone did.”
“My father.”
“You worked for the same system.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Victor’s expression hardened at himself.
“Because I spent my twenties planning to destroy Thomas Blackwell.”
“And?”
“And by thirty, I realized controlling the system felt safer than destroying it.”
That was the most honest confession June had heard from any of them.
“Evelyn told you that you became Thomas.”
His face broke.
“You heard.”
“Yes.”
“She was right.”
“Did you kill her?”
Victor closed his eyes.
“I injected the IV.”
June stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I thought it was a sedative.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“But it’s true.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Thomas.”
“You injected a mystery syringe into an injured woman?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was weak.”
No excuse.
Just guilt.
June almost respected him for not decorating it.
“Was it poison?”
“I don’t know.”
“She died.”
“Yes.”
“Then you killed her.”
Victor nodded.
“Yes.”
The door opened.
Elaine entered.
Alive.
June stood so fast the chair fell.
Elaine cried.
They embraced.
Then June pushed her away.
“You lied to me my whole life.”
“I know.”
“About Dad.”
“Yes.”
“About my salary.”
“Yes.”
“About everything.”
Elaine said, “Almost.”
June laughed through tears.
“That doesn’t help.”
“No.”
Victor gave them distance.
Elaine explained why June mattered.
Samuel had discovered the master index could destroy Account Seventeen.
Thomas searched for it.
So Samuel converted the index into a mnemonic.
A children’s rhyme.
Then he taught it to June.
Not as numbers.
As a story.
June stared.
“I don’t remember.”
Elaine touched her arm.
“You might.”
“No.”
“You used to recite it.”
“When?”
“At bedtime.”
Something surfaced.
Her father’s voice.
Seventeen birds on the black oak tree.
Sixteen flew where no one could see.
Fifteen stones by the river bend.
Fourteen letters you never send.
June whispered the first lines.
Victor stood.
Elaine covered her mouth.
June continued.
The rhyme descended.
Thirteen windows.
Twelve bells.
Eleven roads.
Each image corresponded to something.
Codes.
Locations.
Names.
But June remembered only fragments.
“Why does Thomas want me now?”
Victor answered.
“Because he lost the backup index.”
“How?”
“Evelyn destroyed it.”
June almost smiled.
Good.
“So I’m the only copy.”
“Possibly.”
The cabin window shattered.
Victor shoved June to the floor.
Gunfire tore through the wall.
Elaine screamed.
Victor drew a weapon.
“Back room.”
June crawled.
More shots.
Men outside.
Not federal agents.
Not Adrian.
Thomas.
Victor fired through the doorway.
“Go.”
June and Elaine ran toward the rear.
A man appeared outside.
Elaine struck him with a fireplace poker.
June grabbed his dropped phone.
They escaped through trees behind the cabin.
Victor followed minutes later, bleeding from his shoulder.
They reached an old truck.
Elaine drove.
June used the stolen phone.
She called the only number she remembered besides her mother’s.
Adrian answered before the first full ring.
“June?”
She almost cried at his voice.
“I’m alive.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who has you?”
“Victor.”
A pause.
“Is he there?”
“Yes.”
Victor shouted, “Tell him Thomas found us.”
She did.
Adrian asked, “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Elaine?”
“Here.”
“Victor?”
“Shot.”
“Pity.”
Victor actually laughed despite bleeding.
June said, “Adrian, my father left something in my memory.”
Silence.
“What?”
“A rhyme.”
“Can you remember it?”
“Some.”
“Don’t say it over the phone.”
Smart.
“Where are you going?”
Elaine looked at Victor.
Victor answered.
“Evelyn House.”
June frowned.
“The foundation?”
“Not the foundation.”
Victor winced.
“The real Evelyn House.”
“What is that?”
“A shelter your wife finished before she died.”
Adrian went silent.
“She finished it?”
“Yes.”
“She told no one?”
“She told the women who needed it.”
June looked out at the dark road.
A hidden house built by a dead woman.
A living archive hidden inside a housekeeper’s childhood memory.
A billionaire discovering his empire had been built on secrets.
And somewhere behind them, Thomas Blackwell was hunting all of it.
June tightened her grip on the phone.
“Meet us there.”
May you like
Adrian answered.
“I’m already moving.”
