Chapter 3 - What Her Father Called the Moon
I reached the hallway before anyone else.
Sophie stood against the wall beside one of my guards.
The guard looked furious.
“What happened?”
“A package, sir.”
“Package?”
He pointed down.
A small brown box sat outside the sitting room.
No label.
No delivery markings.
Nothing.
Sophie had screamed because the box had contained a dead stuffed rabbit.
Not hers.
Another one.
Same faded brown fur.
Same long ears.
Except one leg had been cut off.
Rosa pushed past me.
“Sophie.”
She lifted her daughter.
Sophie buried her face against her neck.
“I thought it was Mr. Buttons.”
Her rabbit.
“No, baby.”
Rosa clutched her.
“It’s not him.”
I looked at the guard.
“How did that get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer has a short life expectancy.”
“I was outside the door the entire time.”
“Camera?”
“Checking.”
Tomas appeared.
He saw the box.
His jaw hardened.
“Get Sophie out of this hallway.”
I nodded toward another guard.
“Take them to the north suite.”
Rosa shook her head.
“No.”
“Rosa—”
“No more moving us around without telling me what’s happening.”
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
“Someone is trying to scare you.”
“Because of Noah?”
“Probably.”
“Then hiding in another room won’t fix it.”
“No.”
“What will?”
I looked at Tomas.
“Finding who put that box there.”
Sophie’s crying slowed.
I crouched beside her.
“Can I ask you something?”
Rosa hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Your dad used to call the moon something special.”
Sophie wiped her cheek.
“The night cookie.”
Rosa blinked.
“What?”
“The moon.”
Sophie pointed toward a window as if it might be visible in daylight.
“Daddy called it the night cookie because somebody took a bite.”
A crescent.
Rosa laughed once through her tears.
“I forgot that.”
I stood.
“Night cookie.”
Tomas nodded.
We returned to the offline computer.
Password:
NIGHTCOOKIE.
Rejected.
THE NIGHT COOKIE.
Rejected.
Tomas frowned.
Rosa whispered, “Try lowercase.”
nightcookie.
The folder opened.
Inside were hundreds of files.
Payment ledgers.
Photographs.
Recorded calls.
Project documents.
And a spreadsheet titled HOUSE.
I clicked.
Employee names filled the screen.
Rosa.
Marco.
Two drivers.
Three cleaners.
The gardener.
Even Tomas.
Next to each name was a number.
Not salaries.
Vulnerability scores.
DEBT.
FAMILY MEDICAL.
IMMIGRATION ISSUE.
DIVORCE.
GAMBLING.
CHILD.
I felt physically ill.
Someone had cataloged the people working around me according to how easily they could be pressured.
Rosa’s entry read:
HUSBAND DISCOVERED ROUTE.
STATUS: RESOLVED.
CHILD MEDICAL NEED — LEVERAGE AVAILABLE.
Rosa stopped breathing.
“Resolved?”
I closed the file.
Too late.
She had seen it.
“They killed Noah.”
“We don’t know that.”
“You know.”
I did.
Not legally.
Not yet.
But I knew.
Lenora stood near the wall, pale.
I turned to her.
“Your entry is here too.”
Her eyes widened.
I reopened the spreadsheet.
LENORA PIKE.
BROTHER — FINANCIAL LIABILITY.
ACCESS LEVEL HIGH.
MANIPULABLE.
She read it twice.
Then sank into a chair.
“They used Daniel to get to me.”
“Maybe.”
She shook her head.
“I thought I was protecting him.”
“From whom?”
“I didn’t know.”
“That answer is getting old.”
She covered her face.
“I met Elias.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“Where?”
“He approached me in a parking garage.”
“You recognized him?”
“Immediately.”
“And you didn’t tell me a dead man was walking around?”
“He threatened Daniel.”
“With what?”
“Prison. Debt collectors. Worse.”
I stared.
“What did he want?”
“Nothing at first. Information.”
“What kind?”
“Schedules. Vendor contacts. Which employees received assistance.”
“And you gave it.”
“Yes.”
Rosa looked at her with open disgust.
“You told him about Sophie?”
Lenora’s eyes filled.
“I told him there was a request. I didn’t know what he would do.”
“You told me Adrian denied it.”
“He ordered me to.”
Rosa moved toward her.
I stepped between them.
“Not now.”
Rosa’s voice shook.
“My daughter slept crying because her brace hurt. I worked double shifts because I thought surgery was impossible. You looked me in the face every day.”
Lenora whispered, “I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
Tomas interrupted.
“Adrian.”
He had opened another file.
A construction map.
One of my developments.
Harbor Point.
Noah’s last job.
Red circles marked underground utility rooms.
A note read:
SECONDARY LEDGER STORED ON SITE.
I stared at it.
“Harbor Point is finished.”
“Basement levels still exist,” Tomas said.
“Who has access?”
“Maintenance. Building security.”
Lenora spoke quietly.
“Daniel.”
We turned.
“He worked there?”
“He did contract electrical work.”
“When?”
“During construction.”
I looked at the map.
One room had been circled three times.
B4-17.
Below it:
IF I DIE, START HERE.
Noah.
I grabbed my jacket.
Tomas stepped in front of me.
“No.”
“Move.”
“You’re not walking into a basement identified by a murdered man without a team.”
“I have a team.”
“You have anger.”
“Useful fuel.”
“Bad steering.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Tomas had worked for me twelve years.
He had earned the privilege of speaking badly timed truths.
“Ten minutes,” I said.
“For what?”
“To assemble whoever you need.”
He nodded.
Rosa stood.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“That was my husband.”
“And Sophie is your daughter.”
Her expression broke.
I lowered my voice.
“Stay with her.”
“If you find something—”
“You’ll know.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then handed me the stuffed rabbit.
“What?”
“If Noah hid the drive in this, maybe there’s something else.”
I took it.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Sophie entered behind one of the guards.
“Mr. Buttons!”
Rosa smiled sadly.
“Mr. Vale needs to borrow him.”
Sophie looked suspicious.
“For what?”
“Work.”
She came to me.
“Don’t hurt his other leg.”
“I won’t.”
She pointed a tiny finger at me.
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
We left for Harbor Point.
Forty minutes later, Tomas and I descended into basement level four with six security officers.
B4-17 was behind an unmarked steel door.
No electronic lock.
Only an old key cylinder.
Tomas examined it.
“Recently used.”
He opened the toolkit.
Two minutes later, the lock turned.
Inside was a narrow maintenance room.
Empty shelves.
Dust.
One folding chair.
And scratches across the concrete floor.
Recent drag marks.
Something heavy had been removed.
Tomas swept his flashlight.
“Too late.”
I looked at the rabbit.
Why had Noah hidden the drive in Sophie’s toy?
Because he expected Rosa to keep it.
Because nobody would search a child’s stuffed animal.
I squeezed the other leg.
Nothing.
The body.
Nothing.
The head.
A tiny click.
I froze.
“Knife.”
Tomas handed me one.
I opened the stitching at the base of the rabbit’s neck.
Inside was a brass key.
Stamped:
B4-17.
“Wrong lock,” Tomas said.
I looked around.
The steel door used a different key.
I swept the room.
Cabinets.
Pipes.
Concrete walls.
Then I saw a small keyhole beneath the folding chair.
In the floor.
We moved the chair.
A metal panel was set into the concrete.
The brass key fit.
I turned it.
The panel opened.
Inside was a ledger wrapped in plastic.
And a photograph.
I pulled it out.
Noah stood beside Elias Mercer.
Between them was a third man.
I knew him.
Everyone in my family knew him.
My uncle Victor.
My father’s younger brother.
The man who had taught me to shoot.
The man who had toasted me when I took control of the company.
The man currently sitting on the board of Vale Holdings.
On the back of the photograph Noah had written:
ADRIAN TRUSTS HIM.
THAT’S WHY HE’LL WIN.
Tomas read it over my shoulder.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed immediately.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Victor is at the mansion.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“He says you invited him.”
“I didn’t.”
Tomas was already dialing security.
Nobody answered.
Then my phone lit up.
A live video call.
From Rosa’s number.
I answered.
Victor Vale filled the screen.
May you like
He smiled.
Behind him, Sophie was crying.
