Chapter 4 - What Preston's Father Knew
Michael tore the note in half.
Elena stared at him.
"Why did you do that?"
"Because whoever wrote it wants you frightened."
"It was Mom's handwriting."
"It looked like her handwriting."
"You recognized it too."
Michael didn't answer.
Elena picked up the torn pieces.
"Eleven years, Dad."
"What?"
"Eleven years since she died, and every time I asked about the last night she was alive, you gave me the same answer."
"She was in an accident."
"Was she?"
Michael's face tightened.
Richard Hale suddenly stood.
"Michael."
Michael looked at him.
Richard's expression carried a warning.
Elena saw it.
"What does he know?"
"Nothing," Michael said.
Richard looked away.
That was enough.
Elena turned to him.
"Mr. Hale?"
Richard rubbed his forehead.
"This isn't the place."
"Your son poured wine on me because someone paid his friend to create a scene that brought all of us into this office. I'd say this is exactly the place."
Preston stared at his father.
"What is she talking about?"
Richard walked toward the window.
"The Bellweather wasn't always called the Bellweather Grand."
Michael closed his eyes.
"Richard."
"No. She's right."
Richard faced Elena.
"Eleven years ago, this property belonged to another company. We were renovating it."
Elena's pulse quickened.
"Go on."
"Your mother came here the night she died."
The room disappeared around Elena.
"What?"
Michael stepped toward her.
"Elena—"
She backed away.
"You told me she was driving home from dinner."
"She was."
"From here?"
Michael said nothing.
Richard did.
"Yes."
Elena looked at her father as if seeing him for the first time.
"What was she doing here?"
Richard swallowed.
"Meeting Victor Sloane."
Michael slammed his palm against the desk.
"Enough."
Elena jumped.
Michael immediately regretted it.
But something had cracked.
"You lied to me."
"I protected you."
"From what?"
Michael's eyes were wet now.
It was the first time Elena had seen fear in them all night.
"From believing your mother's death was your fault."
Elena froze.
"Why would I believe that?"
Michael looked at Richard.
Then Daniel.
Then finally his daughter.
"Because you were here."
Elena's knees weakened.
Daniel caught her elbow.
"I was twelve."
"Yes."
"I don't remember being here."
"I know."
"What happened?"
Michael sat down.
"Your mother discovered Victor had been moving money through several companies using my authorization. She planned to expose him."
"Why bring me?"
"She didn't. You followed her."
A fragment flashed through Elena's mind.
A black sedan.
Her mother's perfume.
A hotel corridor.
Someone shouting.
She grabbed the edge of the desk.
Michael continued.
"Your mother called me. She said you had followed her and she needed me to come get you."
"Did you?"
"I was ten minutes away."
Elena's throat tightened.
"What happened before you arrived?"
Michael's voice nearly broke.
"There was an argument."
"With Victor?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"Your mother left."
"With me?"
"No."
The word struck her.
"Why not?"
"You were hiding. Nobody could find you."
Another fragment.
A service staircase.
Her knees pulled against her chest.
A woman crying.
A man saying, Where is she?
Elena whispered, "I hid."
Michael nodded.
"Your mother thought you had run outside. She went looking for you."
"And crashed."
"Yes."
Elena covered her mouth.
For eleven years, she'd remembered nothing.
Now pieces were returning.
Richard spoke softly.
"Michael found you forty minutes later inside a maintenance room."
Elena looked at him.
"You were there?"
"Yes."
"What else happened?"
Richard didn't answer.
She saw the guilt.
"What else?"
Michael said, "Richard."
But Richard had made his decision.
"There was a recording."
Michael's face went white.
Elena stared at him.
"What recording?"
Richard opened a safe behind a framed photograph.
Inside were documents, drives, and a small black storage box.
He removed an old digital recorder.
Michael stared.
"You told me it was destroyed."
"I couldn't."
Elena took it.
Her fingers trembled.
"What is on this?"
Richard looked at her.
"The argument."
Michael stepped forward.
"You don't need to hear it."
"That's not your choice."
She pressed play.
Static.
Then her mother's voice.
"If anything happens to me, Michael needs to know."
Elena closed her eyes.
Another voice.
Victor.
"You think he'll believe you?"
"I have the records."
"You have nothing."
"I have enough."
Footsteps.
Then a child's voice.
Elena's voice.
"Mom?"
The recording stopped.
Elena stared at Richard.
"That's it?"
Richard shook his head.
"The file was damaged."
"Can it be recovered?"
"Maybe."
Daniel took the recorder.
"I know someone."
Michael objected.
"No."
Elena rounded on him.
"Why are you fighting this?"
"Because your mother is gone."
"And somebody is using her death to manipulate me."
Michael couldn't deny that.
Preston had been silent for several minutes.
Now he looked at his father.
"You knew all of this?"
Richard nodded.
"And you let Victor's daughter into the gala?"
"I didn't know she was coming."
"She had an invitation."
"It was issued months ago through a donor allocation."
"Which donor?"
Richard frowned.
Frank searched.
Then stopped typing.
"Mr. Hale."
"What?"
"The invitation wasn't allocated by a donor."
"Then who authorized it?"
Frank turned the monitor.
The authorization had come from the executive office.
Richard's office.
His digital signature.
Richard stared.
"I didn't do that."
Preston gave a humorless laugh.
"Apparently everyone in this building is using everyone else's name."
Then the lights went out.
Complete darkness swallowed the office.
Someone screamed in the hallway.
Michael immediately called Elena's name.
"I'm here."
Emergency lights flickered red.
Daniel still held the recorder.
Frank looked at his security monitor.
"It's only this floor."
A soft electronic beep came from the office door.
The lock disengaged.
Then another beep.
The elevator.
Michael's security moved in front of Elena.
The elevator doors opened.
Nobody was inside.
Only a red evening gown lay on the floor.
On top of it rested a photograph.
Elena walked closer.
Michael tried to stop her.
She picked it up.
It showed her mother on the night she died.
But she wasn't alone.
Richard Hale stood beside her.
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And on the back, someone had written:
ASK RICHARD WHY HE WAS THE LAST MAN TO SEE HER ALIVE.
