Chapter 8 - Harris’s Secret
Harris did not reach for his weapon.
He slowly removed it from his holster and placed it on the table.
Then he raised both hands.
“I did not kill Sofia Bennett.”
Ruiz took the weapon.
“But you know who did.”
Harris looked at me.
“Your mother’s death was not an accident.”
My legs weakened.
Grant pulled out a chair.
I did not sit.
“Tell me.”
Harris had served in military intelligence before Edmund hired him.
Twenty-eight years earlier, he had been a young security investigator assigned to the Hale Foundation.
Sofia Bennett came to him with evidence of unauthorized payments.
The money had gone to politicians, inspectors, and union officials who helped Edmund expand the company.
“She wanted to report it to the government,” Harris said.
“Did you stop her?”
“I asked for twenty-four hours to copy the records.”
“What happened?”
“Someone searched her apartment that night.”
My mother had told me our home was burglarized when I was an infant.
She never said anything was taken.
“She withdrew her complaint the next morning,” Harris continued.
“Why?”
“Adrian’s mother threatened you.”
Grant stared at him.
“My mother?”
Adrian and Grant had different mothers.
Adrian’s mother, Victoria Hale, died when Grant was ten.
Family histories described her as elegant, charitable, and deeply devoted to the company.
Harris described someone else.
“Victoria told Sofia that if she spoke, her infant daughter would disappear.”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“She kept quiet to protect me.”
“For several years.”
“What changed?”
“Victoria died. Sofia believed the danger had passed.”
My mother had begun asking questions again when I was twelve.
Three months later, her car went off a mountain road.
“I investigated the crash,” Harris said.
“The brake line had been cut.”
“Who did it?”
“I could not prove it.”
“Who ordered it?”
Harris looked toward Grant.
“Edmund.”
Grant shook his head.
“No.”
“Your father believed Sofia still possessed financial records that could destroy the company.”
“Why did you stay with him?”
The question came from me.
Harris looked ashamed.
“Because I was afraid.”
“My mother died because you were afraid?”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt more than an excuse would have.
Ruiz stepped closer.
“What does this have to do with Claire?”
“Claire found Sofia’s original complaint in an old foundation archive. She tracked Maya through employment records and hired her.”
“So she could investigate Maya’s mother?” Grant asked.
“So she could protect her.”
Harris looked at me.
“Claire believed Adrian knew Sofia had kept copies. She worried he might target Maya.”
I thought of the blue music box.
The hidden files.
Claire’s trust.
She had brought me into the mansion because I was connected to the same corruption she was uncovering.
She had also put me in greater danger without explaining why.
I wanted to be angry with her.
Instead, I remembered the fear in her eyes.
Adrian’s voice returned to me.
Ask Maya.
He wanted Grant to distrust Claire and me.
“He is trying to divide us,” I said.
Ruiz agreed.
“Renata’s accusation against Harris may contain truth, but she is using it strategically.”
Harris placed both palms on the table.
“I deleted the official security records after Claire died.”
Grant crossed the space between them.
“You said the system failed.”
“The storm damaged the main network, but two cameras remained active.”
“Which cameras?”
“The east atrium and service corridor.”
The cameras that mattered.
“What did they show?”
“I never watched the complete footage.”
“Stop lying.”
“Adrian reached me first.”
Harris’s voice broke.
“He had my son.”
Harris’s only child, Daniel, had struggled with addiction for years.
I had never met him.
“Adrian sent me a photograph of Daniel unconscious in a hotel room. He said the drugs beside him would be enough for a trafficking charge.”
Ruiz frowned.
“He threatened prison?”
“He threatened an overdose.”
Harris copied the footage, encrypted it, and erased the active system.
He then gave Adrian an empty drive.
“I kept the real backup.”
“Where?” Ruiz asked.
“In a deposit box under Daniel’s name.”
“You said it was stolen.”
“It was.”
“By whom?”
“Daniel.”
Harris had entered rehabilitation six months after Claire’s death.
When he left, the deposit box was empty.
Harris believed Adrian paid him.
“Where is your son now?”
“I do not know.”
Grant paced toward the dark window.
“Everyone around me knew something.”
“Maya did not,” Harris said.
Grant stopped.
“Neither did Lily, in any way a child could understand.”
Harris looked toward me.
“I failed Claire. I failed Sofia. I will not fail again.”
Ruiz remained suspicious.
“Prove it.”
Harris walked toward the laptop.
“The footage contained an encrypted identifier. Every camera frame in the Hale system carried a hidden authentication code.”
“So?”
“If any part of the recording survived, I can verify it.”
“Where do we find it?”
“Daniel.”
Ruiz began searching databases.
His last confirmed address was a halfway house in Queens.
He disappeared three weeks earlier.
A bank account in his name had received fifty thousand dollars two days after Naomi vanished.
Adrian was using him again.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number contained a photograph.
A young man sat inside a bus terminal.
He held a black drive in one hand.
Harris recognized him.
“Daniel.”
The message contained four words.
COME ALONE OR HE DIES.
Below them was a location.
Grand Central Terminal.
Midnight.
I looked at Harris.
“It is addressed to me.”
Grant shook his head.
“You are not going.”
“This may be our only chance to recover the footage.”
“It is a trap.”
“Of course it is.”
I picked up my coat.
“But they made one mistake.”
Ruiz looked at me.
May you like
“What?”
“They think I am still only the nanny.”
