Chapter 3 - The Sister Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Harriet stared at the message until the letters blurred.
DON'T TRUST DOMINIC.
Dominic stood beside her.
He didn't defend himself.
That bothered Harriet more than an argument would have.
“You knew,” she said.
“No.”
“You didn't even look surprised.”
“I've spent my life around betrayal. Surprise became expensive.”
Harriet stepped away.
“Stay away from me.”
“Harriet—”
“You brought me here.”
“Yes.”
“To your building. Your security. Your people.”
“Yes.”
“And now my sister, who has been missing for seventeen years, appears on your camera warning me about you.”
Dominic nodded once.
“If I were you, I'd leave too.”
Harriet expected resistance.
Instead he handed her a key.
“Garage exit. Gray sedan. It's clean.”
She stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because keeping you here against your will would prove Lucy right.”
Harriet took the key.
She reached the elevator.
“Harriet.”
She turned.
Dominic placed the black cuff link on the table.
“You should take this.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever planted it wanted one of us to find it.”
Harriet pocketed it.
Then she left.
She didn't take the sedan.
Predictable routes got people killed.
Arthur Bell had taught her that.
Harriet walked six blocks, changed her jacket in a twenty-four-hour laundromat, took a bus east, exited two stops early, and entered a diner through the kitchen.
By seven that morning, she was sitting across from the only person still alive who knew anything about Lena Hart.
Ruth Calder.
Ruth had been her father's accountant.
Now seventy-one, she lived above the diner and spent most mornings solving crossword puzzles.
When Harriet placed the cuff link on the table, Ruth's pencil fell from her fingers.
“Where did you get that?”
“You've seen it.”
Ruth's face answered before her mouth did.
“Harriet—”
“Don't.”
Ruth glanced around.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I saw Lucy.”
Ruth went white.
That was the second answer.
Harriet leaned forward.
“You knew.”
Ruth whispered, “Not at first.”
“How long?”
“Seven years.”
Harriet stood so quickly the table shook.
“Seven years?”
“Sit down.”
“My sister has been alive for seven years and you never told me?”
“I was protecting you.”
Harriet laughed bitterly.
“Everybody who lies to me says that.”
Ruth's eyes filled.
“Lucy asked me not to.”
That hurt worse.
Harriet sat.
“Why?”
“Because she believed you were being watched.”
“By whom?”
“Everyone.”
Ruth slid the cuff link back.
“Your father copied more than shipping records. He discovered a network. Judges. Police officers. businessmen. Organized crime. Contractors. Politicians. People who publicly hated each other but privately made money together.”
“And Victor Sloane?”
“At the center.”
“Dominic?”
Ruth hesitated.
“His father was involved.”
Harriet's stomach tightened.
“Dominic?”
“I don't know.”
Harriet remembered Lucy's warning.
DON'T TRUST DOMINIC.
“Where is Lucy?”
“I don't know anymore.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“She stopped contacting me eighteen months ago.”
“Why?”
“She said someone had discovered she was alive.”
Harriet looked at the cuff link.
“What does H.L.L. mean?”
Ruth's eyes moved toward the diner window.
“Hart Logistics Ledger.”
Harriet froze.
Not Hart, Lena, Lucy.
Ledger.
“Where is it?”
“Your father divided the evidence.”
“Into what?”
“Three parts.”
Ruth pointed at Harriet.
“You were one.”
Harriet shook her head.
“I don't have anything.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I would know.”
“Your father made sure you wouldn't.”
Ruth leaned closer.
“Do you remember the scar on your wrist?”
Harriet stared at it.
“Of course.”
“You think you got it escaping the warehouse.”
“I did.”
“No.”
Ruth's voice dropped.
“You got it six months earlier.”
Harriet's memories shifted.
Hospital lights.
Her father beside the bed.
A minor surgery after a kitchen accident.
Or that was what she'd been told.
“What are you saying?”
“Your father hid something beneath the scar.”
Harriet looked down.
“That is impossible.”
“He was desperate.”
“What?”
“A microfilm capsule.”
Harriet's skin crawled.
“For seventeen years?”
“If it's still there.”
Harriet stood.
“We need a doctor.”
“No hospitals.”
“Then who?”
Ruth wrote an address.
“Dr. Elias Monroe. He helped your father.”
Harriet took the paper.
A black SUV stopped across the street.
Ruth saw it.
Her expression changed.
“Go.”
“Back stairs?”
Ruth nodded.
Harriet moved.
The diner's front door opened behind her.
Men entered.
Harriet didn't wait.
She ran through the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, she reached Monroe's clinic.
The retired surgeon was eighty.
He recognized Harriet immediately.
“Lena.”
“I need you to look at my wrist.”
His face sagged.
“Ruth told you.”
“Do it.”
The procedure took eleven minutes.
No anesthetic beyond a local injection.
Monroe made a tiny incision beneath the old scar.
His forceps disappeared into tissue.
Then emerged.
Between the metal tips was a capsule smaller than a grain of rice.
Harriet stared.
“My God.”
Monroe placed it in a sterile tray.
“You carried it all this time.”
“What is on it?”
“I don't know.”
“Who does?”
“Your sister.”
Harriet looked up.
“You've seen Lucy?”
Monroe immediately regretted speaking.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Where is she?”
“I promised—”
Harriet slammed her palm against the table.
“I buried my sister seventeen years ago without a body. Everyone keeps telling me they lied because they were protecting me. I am done being protected.”
Monroe looked at her for a long moment.
Then wrote an address.
“Old Saint Catherine's Church.”
“When?”
“Midnight.”
“Tonight?”
“Every Wednesday.”
It was Wednesday.
Harriet took the capsule.
When she left the clinic, Dominic was waiting across the street.
She nearly turned around.
He didn't approach.
He simply held up his empty hands.
“How did you find me?”
“I didn't.”
Harriet frowned.
“Then why are you here?”
“Dr. Monroe called me.”
Harriet looked back at the clinic.
“Why?”
Dominic's answer was quiet.
“Because he was my father's doctor too.”
The connection made Harriet's stomach turn.
“You knew about the capsule?”
“No.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep finding things I didn't know.”
She studied him.
“Lucy says I shouldn't trust you.”
“Then don't.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Dominic looked away.
For the first time, the powerful man seemed ashamed.
“Because my father ordered the Hart warehouse watched.”
Harriet went still.
“He didn't order the fire.”
“How do you know?”
“I found his journals after he died.”
Dominic reached inside his coat slowly.
He produced a small leather notebook.
Harriet didn't take it.
“What do they say?”
“That my father learned what Sloane was doing. He planned to help your father expose him.”
“And?”
“Someone betrayed both of them.”
“Who?”
“The final pages were removed.”
Harriet stared at Dominic.
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
His willingness to admit it unsettled her.
Harriet finally told him about Saint Catherine's.
Dominic shook his head.
“You can't go alone.”
“I won't be alone.”
“Who?”
She held up the tire iron she'd retrieved from his car earlier.
Dominic stared.
“That isn't a person.”
“It was more useful than most people last night.”
At 11:58 p.m., Harriet entered Saint Catherine's through a side door.
Dominic remained outside at her insistence.
The church was dark except for candles near the altar.
Harriet walked down the center aisle.
“Lucy?”
Nothing.
Then a woman stepped from behind the confessional.
Dark coat.
Silver star bracelet.
Harriet couldn't move.
Seventeen years disappeared.
“Lucy?”
The woman began crying.
“Lena.”
Harriet crossed the distance.
They collided in an embrace.
Harriet held her sister so tightly she could barely breathe.
“You're alive.”
“I know.”
“I thought you died.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you come back?”
Lucy pulled away.
Fear replaced relief.
“Because the person who betrayed Dad was still watching you.”
“Who?”
Lucy looked toward the church doors.
“Did Dominic follow you?”
“He's outside.”
Lucy grabbed Harriet's hands.
“You have to get away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because the Vale family didn't come into our lives after Dad found the ledger.”
Lucy swallowed.
“They were there from the beginning.”
A floorboard creaked behind the altar.
Lucy froze.
Harriet turned.
A man emerged from the darkness.
Harriet recognized him immediately.
Adrian Vale.
Dominic's missing brother.
He pointed a phone toward them.
On its screen was a live video call.
Victor Sloane smiled from the other end.
“Hello, Lena.”
Harriet tightened her grip on the tire iron.
May you like
Victor's smile widened.
“Now that both Hart sisters are finally together, perhaps we can discuss what your father left inside you.”
