Chapter 9 - THE DEAD MAN
Nathan confirmed one fact before we reached Manhattan.
The body Grant identified in France had been cremated within forty-eight hours.
Dental records had matched Evan Hale.
DNA had never been tested.
“The accident was severe,” Grant told us later.
“I saw his face.
What was left of it.”
We met in a secured conference room at Kingsley headquarters.
My father was there.
My mother.
Nathan.
Rachel.
Grant sat at the far end of the table.
Nobody trusted anybody.
It was the most honest family meeting we had ever held.
My mother pushed a folder toward Grant.
“Evan’s dental records were supplied by a private clinic.”
Grant looked down.
“So?”
“The clinic was owned by Northstar.”
He looked up.
I turned toward my mother.
“You said Northstar was a decoy.”
“I said I no longer control it.”
“Who does?”
Nathan answered.
“We traced the management chain.”
He placed a corporate chart on the screen.
Northstar Holdings led to three trusts.
Those led to an administrative company in Luxembourg.
That led to a foundation in Liechtenstein.
And eventually to a U.S. beneficiary designation.
Not a person.
A code.
VH-17.
Victor Hale.
My father leaned back.
“So Victor took control.”
“Looks that way,” Nathan said.
“Then why involve Celeste?”
Grant asked.
“Maybe she’s working for him,” my father said.
I shook my head.
“Her father was Samuel Vale.
Her brother found the cameras.
She could be investigating the same network.”
“Or pretending to,” Alexander said.
Grant laughed bitterly.
“You don’t get to act like the trusted one in this room.”
My father stared at him.
“You cheated on my daughter while building a case to take her child.”
Grant absorbed that without flinching.
“Yes.”
“Then forgive me if I don’t value your judgment.”
“I don’t need forgiveness.
I need Ellie safe.”
I watched him.
There was shame in his face.
Real shame.
It did not erase what he had done.
But the man sitting across from me was no longer the simple villain I had seen in the hotel lobby.
That almost made things harder.
My mother said, “Where is Ellie?”
“Secure floor upstairs,” Rachel said.
“Four-person detail.”
“Good.”
Nathan brought up another file.
“There’s more.”
Nobody spoke.
“The Zurich tickets were purchased through Northstar.”
Grant swore quietly.
“So whoever controls Northstar wanted us to think Grant was taking Ellie.”
I looked at him.
“They used his passport request.”
“Yes,” Nathan said.
“Which he still made.”
Grant nodded.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Celeste believed someone might attempt to remove Ellie from the country.
I wanted to know how quickly I could travel with her if we needed to.”
“Without telling me.”
“I didn’t trust your family.”
My father laughed once.
“You trusted your mistress.”
Grant met his gaze.
“At the time, yes.”
My mother said, “Stop.”
Everyone did.
She rarely raised her voice.
“We’re wasting time deciding which of us has behaved worst.
Congratulations.
The competition is crowded.”
My father stared at her.
She ignored him.
“If Evan Hale is alive, why stay hidden?”
Nathan said, “Because he is legally dead.”
“That can be useful.”
Rachel entered a command on her tablet.
“I ran his photograph through private security archives.”
A younger photograph of Evan appeared.
Grant looked away.
I remembered him from our wedding.
Standing beside Grant.
Smiling.
Toasting us.
He had given a speech about loyalty.
The irony made me sick.
Rachel displayed another image.
Grainy surveillance.
Airport.
Six months ago.
A man in profile.
Older.
Beard.
Similar facial structure.
Grant stood.
“That’s him.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
My father moved closer.
“Where?”
“Geneva.”
Of course.
Switzerland again.
Nathan said, “We found another sighting three weeks ago.”
The next photograph appeared.
New York.
A private medical research conference.
The man wore glasses.
“Same person?” I asked.
“Facial match probability is eighty-seven percent.”
Grant stared at the screen.
“He’s alive.”
My father whispered, “Victor’s son.”
My mother looked at me.
“And possibly Ellie’s biological father.”
The words hurt differently when she said them.
Grant looked down.
I wanted to know what he felt.
I also didn’t.
Nathan opened another file.
“The conference Evan attended focused on hereditary disease and gene preservation.”
“Why does that matter?” Grant asked.
Nathan looked at me.
“Because one of the speakers was Dr. Lydia Shaw.”
I knew the name.
My fertility doctor.
The woman who had overseen the embryo transfer that resulted in Ellie.
“Where is she?”
Rachel answered.
“Missing.”
“How long?”
“Four days.”
Before the hotel.
Before the freeze.
Before everything exploded.
My satellite phone buzzed.
Everyone looked at it.
Unknown secure sender.
One image arrived.
Celeste.
Alive.
She sat in what looked like a basement.
Her wrists were not tied.
No visible injuries.
She held today’s newspaper.
Beside her stood a man.
Older than the Evan I remembered.
Bearded.
Thin.
But unmistakable.
Grant whispered, “Evan.”
Below the image was a message.
**MARA.
YOU HAVE BEEN TOLD THAT ELLIE WAS AN ACCIDENT.
SHE WASN’T.
COME TO ME IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU WERE CHOSEN.**
May you like
Then a second message.
COME ALONE OR CELESTE DISAPPEARS FOR REAL.
