Chapter 4 - Marcus Knew She Was Alive
I shoved the laptop away.
"No."
Marcus did not argue.
That made it worse.
"Peter Hale died before I was old enough to remember him."
"That's what the family was told."
"Michael Cross died twelve years ago."
"Also what the family was told."
I stood.
"Stop saying told."
Marcus closed the file.
"You're right."
"No more partial truths."
"You're right."
"You knew Victoria survived."
"Yes."
"You knew my father hid her."
"Yes."
"You knew he suspected Daniel had been sent to meet me."
"Yes."
My hand hit the desk.
"And you let me marry him."
Marcus flinched.
Finally.
Something real.
"Jonathan did not know enough before the wedding."
"Neither did I."
"He thought stopping it without evidence would push Daniel and Patricia deeper underground."
"So he used me."
Marcus looked at me.
"Yes."
The word hurt more than another excuse would have.
I stepped away.
"Get out."
"Emily-"
"Get out."
"We do not have time."
"Then talk faster."
He stayed.
I hated him for that too.
He opened the sealed box from his case.
Not the hidden metal box.
Another one.
Inside were old case notes.
Photos.
Bank records.
Hospital paperwork.
"Your father knew Patricia long before Daniel met you."
"How?"
"She worked for a private lending firm that financed several Hale acquisitions."
Marcus showed me a photograph.
Patricia twenty-five years younger.
Beside Samuel Vance.
Beside my father.
And beside a dark-haired man whose face looked enough like Daniel to make my stomach turn.
Michael Cross.
Or Peter Hale.
"Which is he?"
"We don't know."
"Find out."
"We tried."
"Try harder."
Marcus accepted it.
He turned another page.
A payment trail from a Hale subsidiary to Victoria's hospital.
Then another transfer.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
Paid to a protected account in Victoria's name three weeks before her crash.
Patricia's taunt returned.
Ask her why Jonathan paid her before the crash.
"What was this?"
Marcus shook his head.
"Jonathan called it protection money."
"For Victoria?"
"For evidence."
I stared.
"Did he buy her silence?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
"Because he was trying to help her testify."
"Against whom?"
Marcus pulled a handwritten note.
Initials only.
P.C.
M.C.
P.H.
Patricia Cross.
Michael Cross.
Peter Hale.
Maybe.
I rubbed my temple.
"We don't even know who these people are."
"We know enough to know Patricia feared the Vance records."
"And Victoria?"
"She had copies."
"Where?"
"We don't know."
A sound came from the hall.
Not a footstep.
A soft mechanical click.
The study lock.
Someone was trying it from outside.
Marcus moved to the door.
I picked up the heavy brass letter opener from the desk.
The handle turned.
Stopped.
Then a voice.
"Emily."
Victoria.
I looked at Marcus.
He shook his head.
"Could be a recording."
Victoria knocked twice.
Paused.
Then once.
My father's old pattern.
I opened the door.
She stood alone.
Black coat.
Wet hair.
Blood along one sleeve.
I pulled her inside.
Marcus locked the door.
Victoria looked at him.
"You got old."
Marcus almost smiled.
"You stayed dead."
"Safer."
She looked at me.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then I slapped her.
Hard.
Her head turned.
Marcus inhaled.
Victoria touched her cheek.
"I deserved that."
"You let me marry him."
"So did Marcus."
"I already hate him."
"Fair."
I wanted to hit her again.
Instead I said, "Why did my father pay you?"
She looked at the photograph of Samuel.
"Because my father was dead and yours was afraid I was next."
"Who killed Samuel?"
Victoria's mouth tightened.
"We thought it was Patricia."
"Thought?"
"Until your father found a second account."
"What account?"
"One Samuel had hidden."
She looked at Marcus.
He knew.
Of course he knew.
I laughed without humor.
"Go ahead. Surprise me."
Marcus said, "The account beneficiary was Peter Hale."
My uncle again.
Victoria took a breath.
"Emily, what happened to me wasn't the first attempt to bury this."
She reached into her coat.
Pulled out a flash drive.
"Samuel recorded everything."
A gunshot shattered the study window.
Marcus dragged me down.
Victoria hit the floor.
Glass rained over the desk.
A second shot punched through the books behind us.
The hidden metal box slid from the panel and struck the carpet.
Its lock broke.
The lid opened.
Inside was a red ledger.
Victoria saw it.
Her face drained.
"That's not supposed to be here."
I grabbed it.
"Why?"
She stared at the cover.
"Because I watched your father burn it."
May you like
CUT.
