Chapter 2 - Amelia’s Letter
Richard did not sleep.
At six-thirty the next morning, he drove Sophie to Dr. Evelyn Shaw’s home rather than school.
Evelyn was Sophie’s trauma therapist.
Richard trusted almost no one anymore.
Evelyn had earned the exception.
Before Richard left, Sophie held his coat sleeve.
“You won’t tell Uncle Mark?”
“No.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She studied him carefully.
Richard hated that his seven-year-old daughter had become an expert at determining whether adults meant what they said.
Then she released him.
Martin Reeves occupied the thirty-second floor of an old Manhattan building overlooking Bryant Park.
By the time Richard arrived, two private security officers were stationed outside the office.
Martin waited inside a conference room.
He was seventy-three.
Thin.
Silver-haired.
Usually unflappable.
That morning, he looked frightened.
A sealed cream envelope rested on the table.
Amelia’s handwriting covered the front.
FOR RICHARD.
ONLY IF THE CONDITIONS ARE MET.
Richard stared at it.
He had not seen her handwriting in almost two years.
Martin sat opposite him.
“There are two things you need to understand before we open this.”
Richard remained standing.
“First, Amelia gave me these instructions six weeks before her death.”
Richard looked up sharply.
“Second, she asked me not to tell you the instructions existed.”
“Why?”
“I asked the same question.”
“What did she say?”
Martin’s expression tightened.
“She said she didn’t know who you could trust.”
Richard felt anger flash through his grief.
“Did she think she couldn’t trust me?”
“No.”
Martin leaned forward.
“I think she was afraid anything you knew could be used against you.”
Richard slowly sat.
Martin pushed the envelope toward him.
Richard opened it.
Inside were four sheets of paper.
The first sentence nearly stopped his heart.
Richard,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that I was afraid might happen.
He continued.
If Vanessa Cross has obtained influence over Sophie, do not dismiss anything Sophie tells you simply because it sounds strange, incomplete, or impossible.
She has seen more than I wanted her to see.
Richard swallowed.
Martin watched silently.
The letter continued.
There are financial irregularities inside Hale Meridian.
I discovered them accidentally while reviewing contributions from the Hale Foundation.
Money is being moved through subsidiaries that should not exist.
Somebody close to you is involved.
I tried to tell you twice.
Both times, circumstances changed before we could speak privately.
That is why I stopped using our phones.
Richard’s mind flashed backward.
Amelia canceling dinner.
Amelia asking whether his office was monitored.
Amelia laughing it off when he asked what she meant.
He had thought she was stressed.
He kept reading.
Vanessa knows I am suspicious of her.
I believe she has been watching Sophie.
Not harming her.
Not yet.
But watching.
If I am wrong, burn this letter and forgive me.
If I am right, there is evidence inside the house.
Find the blue bird.
Richard looked at Martin.
“You knew about this phrase?”
“No.”
“Did Amelia ever mention a blue bird?”
“Never.”
Richard returned to the letter.
Do not tell Mark until you understand what the blue bird means.
His fingers tightened.
Martin noticed.
“What?”
Richard silently handed him the page.
Martin read.
His face lost color.
“There’s more,” Richard said.
The final paragraph was shorter.
Richard, if something happens to me, do not let grief make your decisions for you.
And please remember this:
Sophie notices everything.
She always has.
Believe her before you believe any adult who tells you what she supposedly imagined.
I love you.
A.
Richard remained silent.
Martin looked toward the city.
After several seconds, Richard asked,
“Who knew she came here?”
“No one on my staff except my senior partner.”
“Name?”
“Thomas Bell.”
Richard knew Thomas.
Everyone in Manhattan finance knew Thomas Bell.
He had represented the Hale family for almost thirty years.
He had negotiated Richard’s first venture capital deal.
He had attended Richard and Amelia’s wedding.
“Where is he?”
“London.”
“Call him.”
Martin hesitated.
“I did.”
“And?”
“He didn’t answer.”
Richard folded Amelia’s letter carefully.
“What exactly did the attempted access target?”
“The digital copy of Amelia’s sealed instructions.”
“Who used Mark’s credentials?”
“We don’t know.”
“Could Mark’s account have been compromised?”
“Yes.”
“So don’t assume it was him.”
“I’m not.”
Martin pushed another document across the table.
“But I think you should see this.”
It was an access log.
Richard read the IP location.
Hale Meridian headquarters.
Executive floor.
The request had come from inside Richard’s own building.
At 1:07 a.m.
“Security cameras?”
“I asked your internal team.”
“And?”
Martin’s eyes met his.
“They said the camera system on your executive floor was offline for maintenance.”
Richard almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the excuse was too convenient.
His phone rang.
Mark.
Richard stared at the name.
Martin said quietly,
“Don’t react.”
Richard answered.
“Morning.”
Mark sounded normal.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“We have a problem.”
Richard looked at Martin.
“What kind?”
“Board problem.”
“Can it wait?”
“No.”
Mark exhaled.
“Someone accessed restricted files last night using my credentials.”
Richard felt a chill.
Mark continued.
“IT called me twenty minutes ago.”
“What files?”
“They won’t say.”
“Where are you?”
“At headquarters.”
Richard made his voice hard.
“Stay there.”
“Richard—”
“Stay there.”
He disconnected.
Martin stood.
“You believe him?”
“I don’t believe anyone.”
On the drive back to Connecticut, Richard called the estate security chief.
“Seal the Greenwich house.”
“Sir?”
“No staff inside.”
“What about maintenance?”
“Everyone out.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And pull security footage from the last thirty days.”
A pause.
“We may have a problem.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed.
“What problem?”
“The archive server was reformatted this morning.”
“When?”
“Approximately five-fifteen.”
Richard tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“By whose authorization?”
Another pause.
“Your office.”
“I authorized nothing.”
The line went silent.
Richard drove faster.
When he reached the estate, police were already there.
One of the rear doors had been forced.
Nothing obvious appeared stolen.
Richard went directly to the old pantry.
The room smelled exactly as he remembered.
Cedar shelves.
Dry goods.
The metal bowl Vanessa had once used for the dog still sat in an evidence bag on the counter.
Richard felt sick.
He forced himself to focus.
Blue bird.
He searched drawers.
Cabinets.
Baseboards.
Nothing.
Then he remembered Sophie’s wording.
Mommy hid a blue bird.
Not found.
Hid.
Richard began removing objects from shelves.
Behind a row of decorative copper containers, he saw faint scratches on the wall.
He pressed the panel.
Nothing.
He pulled.
The entire section of shelving shifted half an inch.
Richard stared.
A hidden latch sat behind it.
He opened the narrow compartment.
Inside was a small blue ceramic bird.
His breath caught.
Beneath it was a digital recorder.
And a photograph.
Richard lifted the photograph first.
Amelia stood in the garage.
Beside her was Vanessa.
And beside Vanessa stood Mark.
The timestamp was three days before Amelia died.
On the back, Amelia had written four words.
THEY THINK I DON’T KNOW.
Then Richard heard movement behind him.
A floorboard creaked.
He turned.
May you like
A dark figure stood in the pantry doorway.
The figure lunged for the recorder.
