Chapter 4 - The Clock That Stopped
Marcus called Peter Vale three times from the hospital corridor.
The first call rang six times.
The second went straight to voicemail.
On the third, the number was no longer in service.
Marcus stared at the screen.
Peter had been the Carrow family attorney for twenty-seven years.
He had drafted Marcus’s first will. He had handled Arthur’s tax problems. He had sat two pews behind them at Marcus’s mother’s funeral and held Susan by both shoulders when she cried.
DeRosier came through the double doors with his coat unbuttoned.
“We put an alert on Vincent’s car. Your phone is powered off.”
“Peter Vale is involved.”
“Why?”
Marcus showed him the email.
DeRosier read it twice.
“We’ll call the DA.”
“My father says Vale is the only outside witness the charter allows.”
“Then we’ll call him too.”
“He disconnected his number.”
That changed DeRosier’s face.
Arthur was moved upstairs just after midnight. The doctor called the dehydration severe and the bruising around his wrists consistent with prolonged restraint. There was no head injury serious enough to explain eleven days of confinement.
Susan’s story had already started collapsing on paper.
At 12:17, Arthur asked for Marcus.
He was more awake. That made him look worse.
“Go back to the house,” he said.
Marcus pulled the chair close. “No.”
“The brass clock.”
“What about it?”
“Your mother had a compartment put in the base because she did not trust safes.”
Marcus looked at him.
“I didn’t know that.”
“She didn’t tell you.”
“What’s in it?”
Arthur’s eyes moved toward the door.
“A drive.”
Marcus said nothing.
“I started copying records in July,” Arthur said. “Bank ledgers. board consents. emails. I knew money was missing before I knew who was taking it.”
“Vincent?”
“Vincent is greedy. Greed is easy. This is organized.”
“Peter?”
Arthur’s jaw worked once.
“I saw Peter here on the thirty-first.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“Here?”
“At the house.”
“You saw him?”
“I heard him. They opened the elevator six inches. Vincent said I needed water. Peter said, ‘Keep him breathing until Thursday.’”
Marcus felt the chair arm under his fingers bend a little because he had stopped knowing how hard he was holding it.
“Why Thursday?”
“Because you were coming.”
Eli had been lying across two chairs near the window, eyes closed. They opened now.
“I heard that,” he said.
Marcus looked at him.
“You should be asleep.”
“I was.”
Arthur pointed weakly toward him. “Take him with you.”
“No.”
“Marcus.”
“No.”
Arthur stopped arguing.
DeRosier sent two troopers back to Calder House with Marcus. Eli stayed in a family waiting room at the hospital under the eye of a state police investigator named Quinn, who had arrived from Poughkeepsie at one in the morning with a legal pad and no patience for anybody’s version of events.
At Calder House, the portrait was still on the floor.
Marcus did not look at it.
The brass clock sat on the sideboard exactly where it had been. One trooper photographed it before Marcus touched anything.
The clock had stopped.
9:17.
Marcus turned it over.
There were four felt feet on the bottom. One was slightly higher than the others.
He pressed it.
A panel no bigger than two fingers clicked loose.
Inside was a black USB drive wrapped in wax paper.
One of the troopers said, “Don’t plug that into anything here.”
They drove it to the barracks.
At 2:06 a.m., Quinn called Marcus from the digital lab.
“Come look.”
The drive contained nineteen folders.
AUDIT.
TRUSTS.
NORTHLINE.
RED OAK.
VALE.
And one marked HOUSE CAMERA — MANUAL BACKUP.
Quinn opened that one first.
Calder House’s normal security system had been offline for “maintenance” since August 29. Arthur had installed a second camera himself years earlier after a break-in and never connected it to the network.
The video had no sound.
The date in the corner read September 3.
2:13 a.m.
The front door opened.
Peter Vale entered.
He was not alone.
Vincent came behind him carrying a metal case.
Susan appeared from the hall.
For eleven seconds the three of them stood under the foyer light.
Then Peter took something from the case and handed it to Susan.
She looked at it.
Even without sound, Marcus saw her say no.
Peter handed it to her again.
This time she took it.
Quinn froze the frame.
May you like
The object in Susan’s hand was a syringe.
