Chapter 17 - HELEN’S BADGE
Emily did not believe Danielle.
That was her first mistake.
Not because Danielle was automatically trustworthy.
She was not.
But because Emily wanted Helen Walsh to be safe.
Helen had handed over her badge.
Helen had worked beside her father for decades.
Helen had called her honey and corrected herself.
That small kindness had become evidence in Emily’s mind.
Kind people could still betray you.
Emily knew that.
She simply did not apply the knowledge quickly enough.
Matthew dragged a metal shelf in front of the shop’s back door.
Marcus returned fire through a broken window.
Danielle crawled toward a trapdoor behind the counter.
“There’s a crawl tunnel to the next building.”
Emily stared.
“Why does everyone have tunnels?”
“North Harbor was built by smugglers.”
“That actually helps.”
They dropped into darkness one by one.
The tunnel smelled like seawater and rust.
Emily landed badly and pain shot through her bandaged foot.
Matthew looked back.
She shook her head.
“I’m moving.”
He nodded and kept going.
Good.
At the far end they climbed into an abandoned bait warehouse.
State police arrived outside minutes later.
The shooters had already fled.
One left blood near the truck.
No body.
No identification.
Danielle refused to go to the station.
An investigator argued.
She walked away from him mid-sentence.
Emily followed.
“Helen.”
Danielle stopped.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
Emily blinked.
“You just told me—”
“I told you what Margaret believes.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Emily rubbed both hands over her face.
“Can anyone in this story say one complete thing?”
Danielle almost smiled.
“Complete things get people killed.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“It’s also been my week for fifteen years.”
Emily held up the key.
“What’s on the red boat?”
“Margaret’s backup.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know.”
Emily laughed without humor.
“Perfect.”
Pier Twelve was empty except for three fishing boats and a red cabin cruiser that looked older than Emily.
The key opened the cabin.
Inside, under a bench, they found a waterproof case.
Matthew stepped back.
Emily noticed.
“You’re not opening it?”
“No.”
“Because I told you not to touch my evidence?”
“Yes.”
“That was yesterday.”
“I remember.”
She knelt and opened it.
Inside were cassette tapes.
Dozens.
Old mini-DV cassettes labeled with dates and initials.
A digital converter sat beside them.
Danielle went pale.
“What?”
“These are from the club.”
Emily picked up one tape.
E.W. — 06/14.
Her mother’s initials.
Another read V.C. — 06/19.
Victor Carter.
Another: S.L.
Judge Samuel Laughton.
Another: N.P.
Nolan Price.
Matthew closed his eyes.
Emily looked at him.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
There was no point asking if he wanted to see it.
Of course he did.
Of course he did not.
Rachel arranged for the evidence to be copied under independent supervision.
Emily insisted the originals be placed with state investigators, not federal agents tied to Judge Laughton’s warrant.
For once, everyone agreed.
The first tape they played showed a hotel suite.
The image was grainy.
A clock in the corner read 11:08 p.m.
Evelyn Hale entered carrying a handbag.
Emily stopped breathing.
Her mother was thirty-two in the video.
Alive.
Moving.
Impatiently tucking hair behind one ear.
Emily had inherited that habit.
She had never known.
A man entered behind Evelyn.
Graham Ambrose.
Their voices were muffled but audible.
Evelyn placed documents on a table.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Ambrose laughed.
“You know what you think I’m doing.”
“I copied the camera logs.”
His smile disappeared.
“You should go home to your daughter.”
Emily gripped the edge of the desk.
Her mother said, “That’s a threat.”
“No. That’s advice.”
The tape jumped.
Someone had overwritten part of it.
When the image returned, Evelyn was alone.
She moved toward the hidden camera.
Looked directly into it.
Then spoke.
“If Arthur finds this, don’t trust Helen.”
Emily’s stomach dropped.
Matthew went still beside her.
The tape ended.
No explanation.
No context.
Just those words.
Emily grabbed her phone and called Helen.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
She called Tom Reeves at the hospital.
He was awake.
“Tom, did Helen leave the building with you?”
“No.”
“Did you see her after the fire?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Maybe fifteen minutes before it started.”
Emily’s pulse accelerated.
“Where?”
“Records floor.”
“What was she doing?”
Tom hesitated.
“She was with Peter Lang.”
Emily stood.
“What?”
“They were arguing.”
“About what?”
“I only heard one thing.”
“What?”
Tom’s voice lowered.
“Peter said, ‘You already got Evelyn killed. I won’t help you do it to Emily.’”
The call ended.
Emily stared at the phone.
Then a new message appeared.
From Helen.
I HAVE PETER. COME ALONE IF YOU WANT HIM ALIVE.
May you like
Under the message was an address.
The old Hale family lake house.
