Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For ten seconds, nobody moved.
Then Damian ran upstairs.
Locked.
Vincent checked his phone.
No signal.
Harper looked around the hidden room.
“My mother built this.”
“Possibly,” Damian said.
“Then she built another way out.”
They searched.
Harper found it behind the photographs.
A narrow maintenance passage led into the neighboring building.
Twenty minutes later, they emerged into an abandoned laundry room.
Damian's men were gone.
So was Vincent's car.
Someone had planned this carefully.
Harper called Ethan.
No answer.
Damian called Marco.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Ethan called back.
“Dad?”
Damian exhaled.
“Where are you?”
“Hospital.”
“Marco?”
“Here.”
Marco came onto the line.
“Someone jammed communications around the diner. We lost you.”
Damian looked at Vincent.
Vincent raised his hands.
“Not me.”
Harper no longer knew whom to believe.
They returned to Damian's office.
Harper brought the letter.
A handwriting specialist wasn't necessary.
She had birthday cards from her mother stored in a shoebox.
Same curved H.
Same narrow R.
Same strange habit of crossing a lowercase t too high.
Her mother had written the warning.
But when?
Damian examined the paper.
“Recent.”
“How recent?”
“Within several years.”
Harper stared at him.
“My mother died ten years ago.”
Nobody answered.
She called Aunt June.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Harper drove to June's house with Damian behind her.
The front door was open.
Inside, furniture had been disturbed.
“June?”
No answer.
Harper found a mug still warm on the kitchen table.
Beside it was another envelope.
HARPER.
Her hands shook.
Inside:
I'm sorry.
That was all.
Harper sat down.
Damian remained standing.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“My aunt knew my mother was alive.”
“We don't know that yet.”
“Yes, we do.”
Harper's voice cracked for the first time.
“Don't protect me from something that's already happened.”
Damian sat opposite her.
“I won't.”
It was the first promise from him she believed completely.
They found June two hours later.
She had checked into a motel under another name.
She opened the door and started crying when she saw Harper.
Harper didn't hug her.
“Is Mom alive?”
June looked at Damian.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
One word.
Ten years of grief collapsed.
Harper stepped backward.
“No.”
“Harper—”
“No.”
“She had to disappear.”
“You told me she was dead.”
“To keep you alive.”
“You made me bury an empty coffin.”
June sobbed.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“That's a lie.”
“Not anymore.”
June explained.
Elaine Lane had worked for Damian's father.
She discovered that the Red Market Circle wasn't simply hiding money.
It had records capable of blackmailing judges, businessmen, police officials, contractors, politicians.
Elaine copied everything.
Damian's father discovered the theft.
Elaine staged her death before he could reach Harper.
She left her daughter with June.
For years, she remained hidden.
“Why didn't she come back after Damian's father died?” Harper asked.
June looked at Damian.
“Because someone kept using RMC.”
Damian's face darkened.
“Who?”
“She never knew.”
Vincent.
That seemed obvious.
But June shook her head.
“Elaine suspected someone else.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
Harper remembered the warning.
Do not trust either Moretti brother.
“Where did she hide the ledger?”
June looked at her.
“You already have it.”
Harper stared.
“What?”
“The brass token.”
Harper removed it.
June pressed the center.
The token separated.
Inside was a tiny storage chip.
Damian stared.
Vincent had spent years searching.
Harper had carried it beside her apartment keys.
June whispered, “Your mother said only you should open it.”
They returned to Damian's office.
A secure computer read the chip.
Hundreds of encrypted files appeared.
One folder required a password.
Harper tried her birthday.
Wrong.
Her mother's birthday.
Wrong.
Then she remembered a phrase Elaine used when Harper was afraid as a child.
Keep walking toward the light.
Harper typed:
TOWARDTHELIGHT.
Unlocked.
Documents filled the screen.
Payments.
Names.
Photographs.
Recordings.
Damian searched recent entries.
Then stopped.
“This can't be right.”
Harper leaned closer.
Transactions had continued after Damian's father died.
For nine years.
Someone inside Damian's legitimate company had been financing RMC.
The authorization signature belonged to Damian.
“That isn't mine.”
Harper looked at him.
“Can it be forged?”
“Yes.”
Ethan joined them after being released from the hospital, walking slowly with a cane.
He hugged his father.
Then Harper.
“You came.”
“You called me fourteen times.”
“Only nine.”
“Still excessive.”
He smiled.
Then he saw the screen.
“What is that?”
“The reason you were drugged,” Damian said.
They searched authorization records.
Each fraudulent transfer passed through one executive office.
Chief Financial Officer.
Richard Vale.
Damian frowned.
“Richard worked for my father.”
“And you kept him?” Harper asked.
“He helped me dismantle RMC.”
“Or helped you think you dismantled it.”
Damian called Marco.
“Find Vale.”
Marco returned minutes later.
“His house is empty.”
“Airport?”
“No travel.”
Harper scrolled farther.
A photograph opened accidentally.
She froze.
A woman was entering a grocery store.
Older.
Dark hair streaked with gray.
Harper knew the shape of her face.
The way she held her shoulders.
The small scar near her left eyebrow.
“Mom.”
The photograph had been taken four days earlier.
Cambridge, Massachusetts.
Elaine Lane wasn't merely alive.
She was in Boston.
A second file contained surveillance audio.
Harper clicked it.
Static.
Then her mother's voice.
“If Harper ever finds the ledger, take her to the old station. I'll come alone.”
Damian looked at Harper.
“When was that recorded?”
Ethan checked.
“Yesterday.”
Harper's phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
No one spoke.
Then a woman breathed her name.
“Harper?”
Harper gripped the phone.
“Mom?”
A sob came through the speaker.
Harper couldn't move.
“Mom, where are you?”
Elaine whispered four words.
“Don't trust Damian Moretti.”
May you like
Then someone ripped the phone from her hand.
The call ended.
