Chapter 8 - The Letter Beneath Table Twelve
Margaret had been taken.
The police were called.
Grant wanted the estate locked down.
Lauren refused to wait.
“Whoever has Mom expects me.”
“That is exactly why you shouldn’t go,” Grant said.
I remembered the compartment beneath Table Twelve.
Maybe the first letter contained more.
We returned.
The envelope was still there.
I read the line Robert had tried to hide.
Most importantly, do not let Lauren inherit Hawthorne without knowing what is beneath it.
Robert explained.
The vault was constructed during Prohibition.
Grant’s father later used it to store documents.
Only the legal owner could activate the biometric lock.
At nine a.m., Lauren would become that owner.
Unless the marriage was annulled before transfer.
Lauren stared at Grant.
“You could stop this by ending the marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Would you?”
“If it keeps you safe.”
Something in her face softened.
This was the first moment I understood why she loved him.
Grant was prepared to lose her rather than use her.
Lauren took his hand.
“No.”
“Lauren—”
“We’re not giving someone what they want because they frightened us.”
That was Lauren.
The woman I remembered.
The woman I had once loved.
And watching her choose Grant did not hurt.
It freed me.
Beside me, Claire slipped her fingers through mine.
No performance.
No audience.
I looked at her.
She whispered, “You disappeared again.”
“I came back.”
“Good.”
At 8:55, police positioned themselves around the estate.
At nine, Grant received confirmation.
Hawthorne belonged to Lauren.
A hidden panel opened in the library.
Stone stairs descended underground.
Lauren went first.
Grant beside her.
Claire and I followed despite every reasonable objection.
The vault door recognized Lauren’s fingerprint.
It opened.
Margaret sat inside.
Alive.
Untied.
Lauren stopped.
“Mom?”
Margaret looked devastated.
“I’m sorry.”
There had been no kidnapping.
She had staged it.
Grant swore.
Claire stared.
“Why?”
Margaret opened a metal case.
Inside were ledgers, photographs, recordings.
“I needed Lauren to open the vault before someone else destroyed these.”
“Who?”
Margaret looked at Robert.
“Her father.”
Lauren turned.
Robert stood at the top of the stairs.
He held a lighter.
And in his other hand was a can of gasoline.
“Everyone out,” he said.
Lauren stared at him.
“Dad?”
Robert’s eyes filled with tears.
“You were never supposed to learn what I did after Catherine fell.”
He tipped the gasoline can.
Claire grabbed my arm.
Robert struck the lighter.
Then Catherine appeared behind him.
May you like
She held up a small recorder.
“Go ahead, Robert,” she said. “But first tell Lauren whose body you buried in my grave.”
