Chapter 3 - The Red Ledger
For half a second, nobody moved.
Then the agents did.
“DOWN!”
Agent Cole grabbed my shoulder and pulled me behind the heavy library desk.
Another agent shoved Daniel against the wall.
Margaret screamed from the hallway.
“What was that?”
Cole drew his weapon.
“Stay down!”
My heart hammered.
The darkness felt absolute.
Only the emergency lights near the staircase glowed faintly red.
I could hear footsteps upstairs.
One set.
Fast.
Then another gunshot.
Closer.
Stephanie screamed.
Someone shouted from the foyer.
“Federal agent! Show your hands!”
No answer.
Then the lights flickered back on.
Everything looked wrong beneath the sudden brightness.
One dining chair had fallen over.
A wineglass lay shattered near Margaret’s feet.
Daniel’s father was crouched beside the wall.
Agent Cole moved into the hallway.
I stayed behind the desk.
For once, I listened without argument.
Thirty seconds later, someone called from upstairs.
“Clear!”
Another voice answered.
“Room clear!”
Then:
“We’ve got a body.”
Margaret made a sound I had never heard from her before.
Small.
Animal.
Daniel pushed away from the wall.
“Who?”
No one answered.
Cole disappeared upstairs.
The mansion filled with motion.
Agents.
Local police.
Radios.
Commands.
I remained where I was.
My shoulder ached from being pulled down.
My broken arm throbbed.
Daniel stared toward the staircase.
“You did this,” he said.
I looked at him.
“What?”
His eyes were wild.
“You brought them here.”
I almost could not believe him.
“A person was just shot upstairs, and you’re blaming me?”
“If you hadn’t contacted the FBI—”
“If you hadn’t stolen money, broken my arm, and lied to everyone, we wouldn’t be here.”
His face tightened.
“You don’t understand what you started.”
“No, Daniel. You don’t understand that I finally stopped cleaning up what you started.”
He stepped toward me.
The agent beside him immediately moved between us.
Daniel stopped.
That small moment told me everything.
He was capable of controlling himself.
He simply had not believed he needed to control himself around me.
Agent Cole came back downstairs.
There was blood on the cuff of his shirt.
Margaret gripped the banister.
“Who is it?”
Cole looked at her.
“Your private accountant. Warren Pike.”
Margaret sank onto the bottom stair.
Stephanie gasped.
Daniel closed his eyes.
I knew the name.
Warren had prepared our taxes for six years.
He sent Christmas baskets.
He knew our birthdays.
He once joked that Daniel was terrible at keeping receipts.
“What was he doing upstairs?” I asked.
Cole turned to Margaret.
“That is a good question.”
Margaret looked stunned.
“I didn’t invite him.”
“Does he have access to the house?”
“No.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“Yes.”
Margaret snapped toward him.
“What?”
“You gave him the back-office access code last year.”
“That was for tax season.”
“You never changed it.”
Cole looked toward one of the agents.
“Check the exterior cameras.”
The man nodded.
I looked at Daniel.
“Why would Warren come here?”
Daniel did not answer.
Cole did.
“Possibly for the ledger.”
The red notebook was placed on the dining table.
The first bullet had struck a wall upstairs.
The second had hit Warren Pike in the shoulder.
He was alive.
Barely.
Paramedics carried him out twenty minutes later.
Before they did, he regained consciousness for several seconds.
Agent Cole leaned close.
“Mr. Pike, who shot you?”
Warren’s lips moved.
Cole lowered his head.
“What?”
Warren whispered one word.
“Family.”
Then he passed out again.
Every Bennett in the room turned toward every other Bennett.
Margaret’s face went white.
Stephanie backed away from Daniel.
Daniel stared at his father.
His father stared at the floor.
I suddenly understood why wealthy families loved the word loyalty.
It sounded better than fear.
The agents separated us.
I gave my statement in the breakfast room.
Margaret was taken to the study.
Stephanie went into the sitting room.
Daniel remained in the dining room.
His father went upstairs with an investigator.
At 11:40 p.m., Agent Cole returned.
“The notebook we found is mostly blank.”
“What?”
“Several pages contain account numbers that don’t correspond to Daniel’s known files.”
“So it’s fake?”
“Maybe.”
“Why would someone plant it?”
“To make us think we found the real one.”
I thought of Daniel’s reaction.
“He knew immediately.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He said his ledger has a black stripe along the spine.”
“And this one?”
“No stripe.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“So the real ledger is missing.”
“Yes.”
“And someone was willing to shoot Warren over it.”
“Possibly.”
I looked toward the doorway.
“What does ‘family’ mean?”
Cole’s expression did not change.
“It may mean nothing. Warren was losing consciousness.”
“But you don’t think it means nothing.”
“No.”
He sat opposite me.
“Claire, did Daniel ever keep documents somewhere outside your home?”
“He had an office downtown.”
“We searched it.”
“His gym locker?”
“Already checking.”
I thought harder.
Daniel loved secrecy when he could disguise it as sentimentality.
He kept old watches in a bank box.
His grandfather’s cuff links in a safe.
His father’s first business contract framed in his office.
Then I remembered something.
“The wine cellar.”
Cole leaned forward.
“What about it?”
“Not here. At our lake house.”
“You have another property?”
“It belonged to Daniel’s grandfather. We barely use it.”
“Where?”
“Lake Geneva.”
“Does it have a safe?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel once disappeared into the basement for almost an hour while we were there.
When I asked what he was doing, he said he was checking pipes.
Daniel had never checked a pipe in his life.
Cole stood.
“We’ll send a team.”
I grabbed his sleeve with my left hand.
“If the ledger is there, someone else could know.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t just send people.”
He looked at me.
“What are you suggesting?”
“Daniel went there three weeks ago.”
“How do you know?”
“His car location history.”
Cole paused.
“You checked?”
“After he broke my arm, I checked everything.”
That answer seemed to earn something resembling respect.
“What day?”
“July ninth.”
“Anything unusual?”
“He was gone four hours. Told me he had golf.”
“Who was he with?”
“I don’t know.”
Cole left.
I sat alone for several minutes.
Then Stephanie entered.
Her mascara had run.
“Claire.”
I said nothing.
She shut the door.
“I’m sorry.”
“For which part?”
Her face crumpled.
“The toast.”
“That’s the part you’re sorry for?”
She looked away.
“You don’t understand Mom.”
“I understand her perfectly.”
“No, you don’t.”
She lowered her voice.
“Mom knew Daniel hurt you.”
I stared at her.
“I know.”
“No. I mean before dinner.”
My skin chilled.
“What are you saying?”
“Daniel called her from the hospital parking garage.”
“When?”
“The night you broke your arm.”
I remembered Daniel disappearing for eleven minutes while I waited for X-rays.
“What did he tell her?”
Stephanie began crying.
“He said you were going to ruin everything.”
“What everything?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stephanie.”
“I swear.”
“What did Margaret say?”
“She told him to make sure you stayed quiet.”
I had expected it.
Hearing it still hurt.
“Why are you telling me now?”
Stephanie wiped her face.
“Because Warren called me yesterday.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“He asked if Daniel had given me anything to store.”
“What?”
“A book.”
My heart jumped.
“The ledger?”
“I didn’t know what he meant.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him no.”
“Did he believe you?”
“I think so.”
She reached into her purse.
Then froze.
“What?”
Her hands began shaking.
“What?”
“My keys.”
“What about them?”
“They’re gone.”
“When did you last have them?”
“When I arrived.”
“What keys?”
“My apartment. Car.”
She looked at me.
“And Mom’s lake house.”
I stood too quickly.
Pain shot through my arm.
“Your mother has access to Daniel’s grandfather’s lake house?”
Stephanie nodded.
“She owns half of it.”
I reached for my phone.
Before I could call Agent Cole, Daniel appeared in the doorway.
No agent behind him.
For one terrible second, I thought he had been released.
Then I noticed his hands.
Uncuffed.
“Where is Cole?”
Daniel shut the door.
Stephanie backed away.
“Daniel?”
He looked at her.
“You never could keep your mouth shut.”
My pulse raced.
“Get out.”
He ignored me.
“Claire, the FBI is going to the lake house.”
“How do you know?”
“I heard them.”
“You need to go back to the dining room.”
He stepped closer.
“You need to call Cole and tell him they’re wasting their time.”
“Why?”
Daniel’s eyes met mine.
“Because if they open the safe in that cellar, this stops being about money.”
Stephanie whispered, “What’s in the safe?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Something Mom should have destroyed twenty years ago.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Daniel turned.
Agent Cole appeared.
“Mr. Bennett.”
Daniel exhaled.
Cole’s eyes hardened.
“I told you not to leave the dining room.”
Daniel smiled faintly.
“I needed my wife.”
“No. You needed privacy.”
Cole motioned to another agent.
“Take him back.”
Daniel was escorted away.
But just before disappearing through the doorway, he looked at me.
“Claire.”
I met his eyes.
“The safe isn’t the worst thing in that house.”
Then he was gone.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Agent Cole answered it on speaker.
No one spoke at first.
Then a distorted male voice said:
“Tell Mrs. Bennett the lake house is already open.”
A loud crash came through the line.
Then the voice whispered:
May you like
“And we found what her husband buried.”
The call disconnected.
