Chapter 3 - The Camera That Shouldn't Exist
Victoria Whitmore left the county courthouse at eleven forty-five the next morning wearing dark glasses and a camel-colored coat.
Three attorneys surrounded her.
Four reporters shouted questions.
She never looked toward the cameras until somebody asked whether she had chained her three-year-old granddaughter inside her home.
Victoria stopped.
Then she slowly removed her glasses.
"I protected my family from an elaborate fraud."
Rachel watched the clip from her kitchen.
Adrian stood behind her.
Victoria continued.
"The public will understand the truth very soon."
Rachel switched off the television.
"She's not defending what she did."
"No."
"She's preparing them for the DNA story."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Let her."
Rachel turned.
"Don't underestimate her."
"I don't."
"You did for six years."
That hurt him.
She saw it.
She didn't apologize.
At noon, Bennett and Detective Lena Ortiz arrived.
Ortiz was in her early forties, composed and sharp-eyed.
She placed a sealed evidence bag on the table.
Inside was Victoria's DNA report.
"The lab confirms the tested sample belongs to a female child," Ortiz said.
"Age?"
"DNA can't give us an exact age from this test."
Rachel nodded.
"But it isn't Lily."
"No."
"How do we know?"
Ortiz slid over another report.
"The hospital kept Lily's newborn blood-screening card. With a court order, the lab compared the genetic markers."
Adrian leaned forward.
"And?"
"No match."
Rachel exhaled.
"So Victoria substituted another child's sample."
"That's our working theory."
"Whose?"
"We don't know."
Bennett looked toward the hallway.
"Has Lily said anything?"
Rachel hesitated.
"Only that Victoria told her she'd been bad."
Ortiz's expression tightened.
"Bad for what?"
"Going into Charles's study."
The detective looked at Rachel.
"What was she looking for?"
"Her toy horse."
Rachel explained the camera.
Ortiz asked to see the footage.
They watched Victoria open the safe.
Remove the envelope.
Replace it.
When it ended, nobody spoke.
Finally Bennett asked, "Can we get the original cloud file?"
"Already preserved."
Ortiz nodded approvingly.
"Good."
Adrian pointed at the screen.
"That envelope may contain my father's original estate documents."
"May?"
Rachel looked toward him.
"We don't know yet."
Ortiz replayed the footage.
"How did Victoria get the safe combination?"
Adrian laughed without humor.
"She lived here for twenty years."
"Did your father change it before he died?"
"Constantly."
Rachel suddenly remembered something.
"Adrian."
"What?"
"The wooden horse."
He frowned.
"What about it?"
"Your father gave it to Lily."
"Yes."
"No. Before Lily was born."
Adrian stared at her.
Rachel stood.
"Charles gave me that horse when I was pregnant."
She remembered the afternoon clearly.
Charles had been sitting in his study.
His hands were already unsteady from the first stroke.
He had held out the carved toy.
"Every Whitmore child should know where the horses run," he had said.
At the time, Rachel thought it was sentimental nonsense.
Now she didn't.
She walked quickly toward the study.
The police followed.
The wooden horse stood on the shelf where Rachel had placed it after Lily's rescue.
Adrian lifted it.
Nothing.
Rachel turned it upside down.
Four tiny felt pads covered the bottom.
One was newer than the others.
Rachel peeled it away.
Beneath it was a circular indentation.
Adrian pressed.
A compartment opened.
Inside lay a brass key.
Stamped into the metal were three letters.
E.W.R.
Bennett stared.
"Any idea?"
Adrian did.
"Eleanor Whitmore."
Rachel knew the name.
Adrian's biological mother.
She had died when he was nine.
"What's the R?"
Adrian looked toward the bookshelves.
"Records."
Behind the third shelf was a narrow archive room Charles had once used for company files.
They unlocked it.
Dust filled the air.
The cabinets inside looked untouched.
Rachel searched for anything marked Eleanor.
Nothing.
Then Ortiz noticed scratches on the floor.
One cabinet had recently been moved.
Behind it was a wall safe.
The brass key fit.
Inside were seven folders.
An old cassette recorder.
A ledger.
And a sealed envelope bearing Rachel's name.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
The letter inside was written by Charles.
Rachel,
If you are reading this, then I failed to correct something before I died.
Her pulse quickened.
Do not trust any amendment to my estate dated after March 3.
Rachel looked at Adrian.
"What date was the codicil?"
His face whitened.
"March sixth."
She continued.
I did not change the bloodline provisions of the trust.
I would never punish a child for the circumstances of birth, biology, adoption, or anything else beyond that child's control.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Rachel read on.
Victoria has asked too many questions about succession. Richard Sloan has begun behaving strangely. I believe someone is preparing documents in my name.
Sloan.
Their family attorney.
The man who had sent Rachel the codicil.
Ortiz immediately took out her phone.
Rachel continued.
If I cannot stop it, Eleanor's records will show you where the first theft began.
The first theft.
Not the last.
Adrian opened the ledger.
Pages of dates.
Payments.
Initials.
Company names.
Millions of dollars.
Rachel recognized several subsidiaries.
Then Adrian stopped.
At the bottom of one page was a payment of $250,000.
Recipient:
R. SLOAN.
Three days before Charles's death.
Another payment appeared beside it.
$100,000.
Recipient:
M. GRANT.
The head of Whitmore House security.
Ortiz looked up from her phone.
"We need to find Sloan."
Adrian immediately dialed.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Rachel called Sloan's office.
His assistant picked up.
"Mr. Sloan left early."
"When?"
"About thirty minutes ago."
"Where was he going?"
"I thought he was coming to see you."
Rachel felt a chill.
"No."
The assistant's voice changed.
"Mrs. Whitmore..."
"What?"
"He took the Charles Whitmore estate file with him."
Ortiz swore softly.
Bennett headed for the door.
Then Rachel's phone vibrated.
A text from an unknown number.
A photograph.
Richard Sloan sitting inside a black SUV.
His eyes were closed.
A dark cloth covered his mouth.
Under the photograph were six words.
STOP DIGGING OR HE IS NEXT.
Rachel stared at the screen.
Adrian whispered.
"Next after who?"
The cassette recorder on the table suddenly felt heavier.
Rachel looked at it.
Charles's voice might be inside.
May you like
And if Victoria was willing to threaten an attorney to keep it buried—
whatever Charles had recorded was more dangerous than a forged will.
