Chapter 9 - THE SON BEATRICE ERASED
Beatrice did not return to her own house.
She disappeared.
Julian claimed he had no idea where she was.
Celeste did not believe him.
Neither did Thomas.
The police could question Beatrice about the threatened release of private recordings, but they could not arrest her merely for accessing a document vault with a valid key.
We needed to know what she had taken.
Then Marcus Caldwell called me.
I had met Julian’s younger brother only twice.
The first time was at our wedding.
He arrived late, stood alone near the bar, and left before the cake was cut.
The second time was at Thomas’s sixtieth birthday.
Beatrice refused to speak to him.
Julian told me Marcus was an addict who had stolen from the family.
I believed that too.
Marcus lived in New Mexico and repaired antique furniture.
His voice over the phone was rough.
“I heard my mother disappeared.”
“How?”
“Celeste called.”
“What do you want?”
“To tell you where Beatrice goes when she wants to become someone else.”
We met the next morning at a diner outside Albuquerque.
Marcus was thirty-eight, thin, sunburned, and sober for eleven years.
He ordered coffee and did not touch it.
“My mother owns a cabin near Taos,” he said. “It’s under her maiden name.”
“Why would she hide there?”
“Because that’s where she keeps what she doesn’t want my father to find.”
“What does she keep?”
“Documents. Cash. Jewelry. Stories.”
He looked toward the window.
“Beatrice has spent her whole life controlling the version of events people are allowed to remember.”
“Julian said you stole from them.”
“I did.”
The admission surprised me.
“What?”
“When I was twenty-three, I took twelve thousand dollars from my father’s business.”
“Why?”
“Drugs.”
“So Julian told the truth.”
“Part of it.”
Marcus finally lifted the coffee.
“I repaid every dollar after rehab. Dad forgave me. Beatrice did not because my addiction gave her power. Whenever I questioned her, she reminded everyone I was a thief.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because I found out she had been using my name.”
My chest tightened.
“For what?”
“Credit cards. Vendor accounts. A consulting company.”
“Blue Heron?”
His eyes met mine.
“You know about it.”
“Beatrice used your identity?”
“The first version of Blue Heron was formed under my Social Security number while I was in treatment.”
“Did you report her?”
“I confronted Julian.”
Of course.
“He said he would fix it. Instead, he convinced the family I had relapsed.”
“Thomas believed him?”
“For a while.”
“Celeste?”
“She was eighteen. She believed whatever made the house quiet.”
Marcus reached into his jacket and removed an old voice recorder.
“I started recording Beatrice after that.”
He placed it on the table.
“Why?”
“Because she could change reality before breakfast.”
The recorder contained years of conversations.
Beatrice threatening to expose Marcus’s addiction if he contacted law enforcement.
Beatrice discussing vendor companies with Julian.
Beatrice instructing Thomas to deny knowing about the accounts.
Then came a recording from nine months earlier.
Julian’s voice was clear.
“I found the right girl.”
Beatrice answered, “Is she reliable?”
“She needs money and approval. That combination is more reliable than loyalty.”
“Mia?”
“Yes.”
My fingers tightened around the recorder.
Julian continued.
“Harper already feels protective of her. Once the girl becomes a threat, Harper will hate herself for resenting someone she rescued.”
Beatrice laughed.
“You learned something from me after all.”
Marcus watched my face.
“I’m sorry.”
The phrase had become meaningless.
“What happened next?”
He played another recording.
Mia’s voice appeared.
“I don’t want to hurt Mrs. Caldwell.”
Beatrice responded.
“Harper will survive embarrassment. Your mother may not survive without medicine.”
“I thought I was only supposed to make Julian happy.”
“You are supposed to help him become independent.”
“By sleeping with him?”
“Do not become dramatic. Men have affairs every day.”
Mia sounded frightened.
“What if Harper finds out?”
“Then you cry first.”
The same instruction Laura had left in her voicemail.
Tell Harper not to trust the woman who cries first.
Laura had known Beatrice.
Perhaps she had faced the same performance.
Marcus told me the cabin address.
Priya contacted local authorities.
Before a search warrant could be obtained, smoke was reported near the property.
By the time firefighters arrived, the cabin was burning.
Beatrice was not inside.
The fire destroyed the main room, but a metal document box survived beneath the floorboards.
Inside were account ledgers, photographs, and several flash drives.
One photograph showed Julian beside Laura Chen outside a hotel.
The date was printed on the back.
The night Laura died.
He had not been in Chicago.
He had been twenty miles from her house.
Another photograph showed Beatrice standing beside Mia long before Mia came to work for me.
On the back, Beatrice had written:
She will do.
The final item was a sealed letter addressed to Julian.
It had been written by his father.
Not Thomas.
A man named Robert Vale.
Marcus stared at the name.
“Who is Robert Vale?”
I remembered the crisis consultant who had created the campaign against me.
Adrian Vale.
The same surname.
When Thomas saw the letter, he sat down and began to cry.
“Julian isn’t my biological son,” he said.
Celeste stepped backward.
“What?”
Thomas covered his face.
“Beatrice had an affair before we were married. I agreed to raise him.”
“Who was Robert Vale?”
“A financial adviser.”
“Is he alive?”
Thomas shook his head.
“He died in prison.”
“What did he do?”
Thomas looked at me.
“He built relationships with wealthy women, married them, and emptied their accounts.”
The room went silent.
Julian had not invented his system.
He had inherited it.
Then Marcus picked up the flash drive recovered from the cabin.
May you like
A label had been taped across it.
HARPER—PHASE TWO.
