Chapter 3 - THE ROOM THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN EMPTY
I had not visited my childhood home in eleven years.
After my father's death, the estate had been maintained by a property management company.
The furniture remained.
The gardens were trimmed.
The bills were paid.
But I had never been able to walk through the front door.
There were too many memories.
My mother teaching me to bake in the kitchen.
My father reading business reports in the library while pretending not to watch me dance around the room.
Christmas mornings.
Birthday parties.
The sound of laughter that had disappeared after both my parents were gone.
Now, standing outside the iron gates, I felt like a child again.
Rachel stood beside me.
"You don't have to do this today."
"Yes," I said.
"I do."
The caretaker opened the front door.
"Miss Bennett."
"Hello, Mr. Lawson."
He had worked for my family since I was twelve.
His eyes filled with tears.
"You look so much like your mother."
I hugged him.
For a moment, the strength I had been holding together all morning almost broke.
But then I remembered my father's letter.
"The blue room," I said.
Mr. Lawson stiffened.
"What about it?"
"I need to see it."
He glanced at Rachel.
Then back at me.
"Your father told me this day might come."
I stared at him.
"What?"
He lowered his voice.
"Please follow me."
We walked through the hallway toward the east wing.
The blue room had once been my father's private study.
It was named for the deep blue wallpaper my mother had chosen.
When I was little, I used to sit outside the door and wait for him to finish working.
He always emerged carrying a peppermint candy.
After his death, Charles Harrington had told me the room contained sensitive business records.
He recommended that everything be transferred to storage.
I had agreed.
I was twenty-four and grieving.
I trusted him.
Mr. Lawson stopped outside a white door.
"The room was renovated ten years ago," he said.
"I know."
"But your father made arrangements before he died."
He removed a small brass key from his pocket.
"He told me never to give this to anyone except you."
I took it.
My fingers were cold.
"What does it open?"
"Something they never found."
The room looked nothing like I remembered.
The blue wallpaper was gone.
The shelves had been replaced.
A pale gray carpet covered the floor.
But the large fireplace remained.
Mr. Lawson pointed toward the mantel.
"Your father loved that fireplace."
I approached it.
Above the mantel hung a painting of the ocean.
My mother had painted it.
I remembered watching her work on it one summer afternoon.
There was a lighthouse on a rocky cliff.
And beneath the lighthouse, almost hidden in the waves, she had painted a tiny blue sailboat.
I touched the frame.
Something shifted.
Rachel stepped closer.
"Evelyn?"
I lifted the painting.
Behind it was a small brass keyhole.
My breath caught.
I inserted the key.
It turned smoothly.
A narrow compartment opened inside the wall.
Inside sat a metal box.
I pulled it out and placed it on the desk.
Rachel leaned forward.
"Do you want me to open it?"
I shook my head.
"This is mine."
The box contained three things.
A flash drive.
A leather-bound notebook.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph first.
My father stood outside a restaurant beside Charles Harrington.
They were both smiling.
Between them stood a woman I had never seen.
She was young, perhaps thirty, with dark hair and a serious expression.
On the back of the photograph, my father had written a date.
October 17, 2014.
Two weeks before his death.
Beneath the date were three words.
Ask about Victoria.
Rachel examined the photograph.
"Do you recognize her?"
"No."
I opened the notebook.
The first pages contained financial figures.
Transfers.
Account numbers.
Corporate entities.
But halfway through, the handwriting changed.
My father had begun recording conversations.
Charles believes I will approve the restructuring.
He doesn't understand that I know about the offshore accounts.
Victoria has agreed to provide the original documents.
I turned the page.
Daniel knows more than Charles realizes.
I froze.
Daniel?
Eleven years earlier, Daniel had been in his early twenties.
Why would my father have mentioned him?
I read the next entry.
The boy was present at the meeting. Charles claims he heard nothing. I don't believe him.
My stomach twisted.
Rachel took the notebook gently.
"We need to preserve this properly."
I nodded.
Then she held up the flash drive.
"We should have our forensic specialist examine it before connecting it to anything."
"Agreed."
Mr. Lawson stood near the door.
His face had gone pale.
"Miss Bennett?"
I turned.
"Yes?"
"There's something I never told you."
He looked down at his hands.
"The night before your father died, someone came to the house."
"Who?"
"Mr. Harrington."
"Charles?"
He nodded.
"They argued in the blue room."
My heart hammered.
"About what?"
"I couldn't hear everything."
He swallowed.
"But I heard your father say, 'If anything happens to me, Evelyn gets the truth.'"
I gripped the edge of the desk.
"What did Charles say?"
Mr. Lawson's voice dropped.
"He said, 'Then you'd better make sure she never finds it.'"
A terrible silence settled over the room.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID showed a number I didn't recognize.
I answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice spoke.
"Is this Evelyn Bennett?"
"Yes."
"My name is Victoria Reed."
I stopped breathing.
The woman continued.
"Your father told me to contact you if the Harrington family ever came after you."
I stared at the photograph in my hand.
"Where are you?"
There was a long pause.
May you like
Then she whispered.
"Somewhere Charles Harrington can't find me."
