Chapter 2 - The Name Written in Red
Arthur did not allow Clara to enter Apartment 1706 first.
She did anyway.
“Do you ever follow instructions?” he whispered.
“When they’re good.”
The apartment was three floors below Arthur’s penthouse.
Nobody was supposed to live there.
Arthur owned the entire building through corporations, and floor seventeen had supposedly been under renovation for a year.
Yet someone had recently made coffee.
Clara smelled it immediately.
A mug sat beside the sink.
Steam still curled from the surface.
Arthur touched it.
“Warm.”
Clara’s heart accelerated.
“Daniel?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Turn hope into evidence.”
She hated him for saying it.
She also knew he was right.
Arthur moved through the apartment with his pistol raised.
Clara followed.
The place looked abandoned at first glance.
Plastic covered the furniture.
Dust coated the windows.
Then Clara noticed footprints.
One set.
Large.
Leading toward the bedroom.
Arthur saw them too.
He silently counted three fingers.
Two.
One.
He opened the door.
Empty.
A mattress lay on the floor.
Beside it was a portable radio, canned food, bottled water, and a first-aid kit.
Someone had been hiding here.
Clara rushed toward the mattress.
A book rested beneath it.
She recognized the cover.
Daniel’s copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.
He had owned it since high school.
She opened it.
His handwriting covered the margins.
“Arthur.”
He came beside her.
On page 94, Daniel had circled seventeen words.
Their first letters formed a message.
SIX NAMES.
Arthur swore quietly.
“Six,” Clara said.
The third number.
Daniel had left them a trail.
Arthur examined the room.
“Search everything.”
They found the first name beneath the bathroom sink.
A red marker had been used to write it on the pipe.
MARCUS VALE.
Arthur knew him.
His head of transportation.
The second name was taped behind a mirror.
ELIAS GRANT.
A city detective.
The third appeared beneath a loose floorboard.
NORA BELL.
A banker.
Three names.
All connected to Arthur’s financial network.
Clara found the fourth inside a cereal box.
DOMINIC ROSSI.
She looked at Arthur.
His face revealed nothing.
“You still think it’s too obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Your loyalty is impressive.”
“It isn’t loyalty.”
“What is it?”
“Experience.”
He took the paper.
“Daniel knew I would suspect Dominic eventually. If Dominic were guilty, Daniel wouldn’t need to hide his name.”
“Unless he wanted proof.”
“Or someone wants us to think Daniel wrote this.”
Clara considered that.
“How do we know any of these messages are his?”
Arthur handed her the book.
“You tell me.”
She studied the handwriting.
“It’s his.”
“Certain?”
“We shared homework for twelve years. Yes.”
A noise came from the living room.
Both turned.
Arthur raised the pistol.
Clara grabbed the nearest object.
A lamp.
Arthur glanced at it.
“Seriously?”
“It’s heavy.”
The front door slammed.
Arthur ran.
Clara followed.
A shadow disappeared into the stairwell.
Arthur pursued it.
Clara reached the stairs seconds later.
Empty.
Then Arthur shouted from below.
“Clara!”
She raced down.
Arthur was kneeling beside a man sprawled across the landing.
Marcus Vale.
The first name.
Blood spread beneath his shirt.
He was alive.
Barely.
Arthur pressed his hand against the wound.
“Who did this?”
Marcus tried to speak.
Blood touched his lips.
Arthur leaned closer.
Marcus whispered one word.
“Six.”
Then his eyes found Clara.
Recognition filled them.
“You…”
Clara crouched.
“You know me?”
Marcus grabbed her wrist.
“You look exactly like him.”
“Daniel?”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
Arthur leaned closer.
“Who?”
Marcus’s grip weakened.
“The other Vance.”
Clara froze.
“There is no other Vance.”
Marcus tried to answer.
A shot cracked through the stairwell.
Arthur dragged Clara down.
The bullet struck the wall.
A second shot hit Marcus.
His body went still.
Arthur fired upward.
Footsteps vanished.
Clara stared at Marcus.
The other Vance.
She had no idea what he meant.
Arthur pulled her to her feet.
“We move.”
“My brother—”
“Not here.”
They returned to the penthouse through a service elevator.
Arthur locked them inside his private office.
Dominic arrived minutes later.
“You disappeared.”
Arthur poured himself whiskey.
“Did you miss me?”
Dominic’s gaze moved to Clara.
“I generally notice when the boss walks away with housekeeping.”
Clara ignored him.
Arthur placed Marcus’s name on the desk.
Dominic stopped smiling.
“Where did you get that?”
“Marcus is dead.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“What?”
“Shot on seventeen.”
“That floor is empty.”
“Apparently not.”
Arthur watched him.
Dominic looked genuinely shaken.
Or he was an excellent actor.
“Who killed him?”
“That’s what I intend to discover.”
Dominic glanced at Clara again.
“She’s involved.”
“Yes,” Arthur said.
Clara stiffened.
Dominic smiled.
Then Arthur added, “In helping me find whoever is killing my men.”
Dominic’s smile vanished.
Arthur dismissed him.
After the door closed, Clara asked, “Were you testing him?”
“I’m always testing everyone.”
“Me too?”
“Especially you.”
She folded her arms.
“Charming.”
Arthur sat.
For the first time, Clara saw how exhausted he truly was.
His hands trembled slightly.
“You need sleep.”
His laugh was humorless.
“The last time I slept, one of my men died ten feet from this room.”
“So you decided never to sleep again?”
“I decided vulnerability was expensive.”
Clara looked at him.
“Eventually exhaustion will kill you faster than an assassin.”
Arthur met her eyes.
“You sound concerned.”
“I need you alive until I find Daniel.”
“Comforting.”
She almost smiled again.
Arthur’s phone buzzed.
An encrypted message.
Unknown sender.
A video file.
Arthur opened it.
Daniel appeared on screen.
Clara stopped breathing.
He was thinner.
Bruised.
But alive.
The timestamp showed three days earlier.
Daniel looked directly into the camera.
“Clara, if you found this, you ignored everything I ever taught you about staying out of trouble.”
Tears filled her eyes.
Daniel continued.
“Arthur, if she’s standing beside you, protect her. Because the person behind this already knows who she really is.”
Clara stared.
Arthur frowned.
Daniel leaned toward the camera.
“And whatever happens, do not tell Clara what happened to our mother until you find—”
The video cut.
A second message appeared immediately.
One photograph.
Clara’s mother.
Standing beside Arthur Kingsley.
Arthur went completely still.
Clara slowly turned toward him.
“You knew my mother.”
Before Arthur could answer, someone knocked three times.
May you like
Then a woman’s voice came through the door.
“Arthur? Open the door. Clara deserves to know who her father is.”
