Chapter 4 - THE MAN ARTHUR KILLED
I couldn't breathe.
“You said you killed an old friend.”
Arthur nodded.
“Victor was my friend.”
I stared at the closed door.
“But he's alive.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The man you saw wasn't Victor.”
My skin prickled.
Arthur explained.
“Victor had a twin.”
I blinked.
“A twin?”
“Yes.”
“What's his name?”
“Vince.”
I thought about the ring.
“The black stone.”
Arthur nodded.
“Victor wore it.”
“Vince stole it.”
“Why?”
“To impersonate him.”
I felt sick.
“Then who did you kill?”
Arthur's face hardened.
“Victor.”
I understood.
The man in my hallway wasn't Victor.
He was Vince.
And he had been inside my room.
Arthur looked at me.
“He was searching for the drive.”
“But why?”
“Because the drive contains evidence that Vince and Gabriel are working together.”
My heart stopped.
“Gabriel is alive?”
“I think so.”
“What are they planning?”
Arthur didn't answer.
His phone rang.
He listened.
Then his face changed.
“Where?”
He hung up.
“Someone found Gabriel.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
I stared.
Arthur grabbed his coat.
“I have to go.”
“I want to come.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if Gabriel is alive, he'll be looking for the drive.”
“Then I'm already involved.”
Arthur looked at me.
“You shouldn't be.”
“But I am.”
He hesitated.
Then nodded.
We left that night.
Chicago was colder than Pittsburgh.
Arthur's men found the warehouse at dawn.
Empty.
Except for one photograph.
Arthur picked it up.
His hands tightened.
It showed Gabriel.
Alive.
Older.
Standing beside a woman.
I recognized her.
“That's Margaret.”
Arthur looked at me.
“Who?”
“The woman who runs the estate kitchen.”
His face went cold.
“She worked for my family for twenty years.”
“She may have worked for Gabriel longer.”
A noise came from upstairs.
Arthur raised his weapon.
I froze.
Someone ran.
Arthur chased him.
A gunshot echoed.
Then silence.
Arthur returned alone.
In his hand was a letter.
He gave it to me.
I opened it.
Arthur,
You always believed fear made you powerful.
It didn't.
It made you blind.
You trusted the wrong people.
And now you trust the maid.
My blood turned cold.
The letter continued:
Ask her what her father did.
I looked at Arthur.
“What does my father have to do with this?”
May you like
Arthur's expression changed.
“Everything.”
