Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY BED
For thirty seconds, nobody moved.
Then the house exploded into panic.
Emily screamed Noah's name.
I ran through every room.
Kitchen.
Garage.
Basement.
Nothing.
The front door was unlocked.
A small shoe lay outside.
Noah's.
My knees nearly collapsed.
I called the police.
Harold checked the security system.
The cameras had been disabled at 2:13 a.m.
Exactly twelve minutes before we discovered Noah was missing.
Someone had known where the cameras were.
Someone had known the house.
Someone had access.
I thought of Rebecca.
Then Thomas.
Then the photograph of Daniel Cross.
A car was caught on a neighbor's camera.
Black SUV.
License plate partially visible.
Harold enlarged it.
“That's a Blackstone vehicle.”
I called Cross.
“You have my grandson.”
“No.”
“Then tell me where he is.”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I told you Margaret hired us.”
“For what?”
“To protect you.”
“From whom?”
Silence.
“Cross!”
Finally, he spoke.
“Margaret believed Rebecca and Thomas were part of a larger group.”
“What group?”
“People who specialize in taking control of wealthy estates.”
My stomach twisted.
“How many?”
“More than you think.”
“Who leads them?”
Cross hesitated.
“Your attorney.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
My attorney, Leonard Price, had handled my finances for twenty years.
He had prepared my will.
My trusts.
My business agreements.
And Rebecca had been meeting with him.
I called Leonard.
No answer.
We drove to his office.
The receptionist was gone.
The office was empty.
A file cabinet had been forced open.
Documents were scattered everywhere.
Then I found a folder with my name.
Inside was a copy of my new will.
The one Rebecca wanted me to sign.
But beneath it was another document.
An older will.
Margaret's name was still listed.
And there was a handwritten note:
Daniel must never sign a new estate plan without independent counsel.
Margaret had known.
She had tried to protect me.
I sat at Leonard's desk.
Then I saw something else.
A photograph.
Leonard.
Rebecca.
Thomas.
And my mother.
My mother had been dead for years.
I turned the photograph over.
It was taken seven years ago.
Before Margaret died.
Before Rebecca supposedly met me.
My entire life felt like a lie.
Emily stood beside me.
“Dad…”
I looked at her.
“Your mother knew.”
“What?”
“She knew these people.”
“Then why didn't she tell you?”
“Because someone stopped her.”
I found a handwritten note in Margaret's old file.
If I die, find the blue ledger.
“What ledger?”
I searched the office.
Nothing.
Then Harold noticed a painting.
“That's new.”
He pulled it from the wall.
Behind it was a safe.
The combination was Margaret's birthday.
Inside was a small blue ledger.
Pages of names.
Dates.
Payments.
But one name appeared repeatedly.
Leonard Price.
Another.
Thomas Reed.
Another.
Rebecca Collins.
Then one name appeared above them all.
Eleanor Vale.
I didn't know her.
Harold did.
“Who's Eleanor Vale?”
Harold looked sick.
“She owns Blackstone Protective.”
I stared at him.
“Cross works for her.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Cross tell me about Rebecca?”
“Because he may be trying to protect himself.”
We heard footsteps.
Someone was coming down the hallway.
Harold raised a hand.
The door opened.
Rebecca stood there.
Alone.
She looked exhausted.
Her makeup was smeared.
She wasn't wearing the wedding dress anymore.
“Daniel.”
I stared at her.
“Where is my grandson?”
“I don't have him.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I want to help.”
I laughed.
“You kidnapped my grandson.”
“I didn't.”
“Then prove it.”
She stepped closer.
“I can.”
“How?”
She reached into her purse.
Pulled out her phone.
And showed me a photograph.
Noah was sitting in a room.
Alive.
Safe.
But the photograph had been taken minutes earlier.
Rebecca whispered:
“Your grandson was taken by the same people who killed Margaret.”
I stared at her.
“You expect me to believe you?”
“No.”
She looked into my eyes.
“I expect you to listen.”
May you like
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Because I'm the reason Margaret died.”
