Chapter 10 - The Woman in the Hangar|
The police arrived at the airfield before we did.
Adrian remained in the passenger seat of the SUV while I sat beside him, watching emergency vehicles move between the hangars. The sky was pale and overcast, and the wind carried the smell of fuel across the runway.
Evelyn had warned us that we were not to interfere with the investigation. We had agreed to wait at the perimeter while detectives questioned the staff.
Waiting was harder than I had expected.
My stepmother had spent years making my life miserable, but the thought of her being dragged into a vehicle by someone who might have killed my father made my stomach twist.
I kept remembering the phone call.
I never wanted your father dead.
It had sounded like a confession.
Or a plea from someone who had finally realized that the person she feared was no longer under her control.
A detective approached the SUV.
“Mr. Cole, Ms. Bennett. We found the transport vehicle.”
“Was anyone inside?” I asked.
“No. There were signs that someone had been restrained in the rear compartment, but we can't confirm who.”
“Did you find blood?”
“A small amount. We're testing it.”
I swallowed.
“What about Victor Hale?”
“He left before officers arrived. We have an active search underway.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Did he take the woman?”
“We believe so.”
The detective turned toward me.
“Ms. Bennett, did your stepmother mention a recording?”
I nodded.
“She said the person who had been in the room when my father died might have it.”
“Did she identify that person?”
“No. The call was interrupted before she could finish.”
He exchanged a glance with another officer.
“We need to ask you about your father's medication.”
I felt as though the ground had shifted beneath my feet.
“What medication?”
“The medical examiner found a substance in the original toxicology sample that wasn't included in the final report. We're checking whether it was a prescribed drug or something else.”
“Who requested the report be changed?”
“That's under investigation.”
“Was it Victor Hale?”
“We don't have enough evidence to say that yet.”
The detective's caution was sensible, but it felt unbearable. Every answer led to another question, and every question seemed to reveal a new way someone might have harmed my father.
When he left, Adrian turned toward me.
“Whatever we discover, you don't have to face it alone.”
I stared at him.
“You can't promise that.”
“No. I can promise I won't deliberately leave you alone with it.”
For a moment, I wanted to believe him.
Then a police officer hurried toward the detective's vehicle and handed him a small evidence bag.
Inside was a silver bracelet with a tiny heart-shaped charm.
I recognized it immediately.
Maureen wore it every day.
The detective returned to us.
“We found this inside the hangar. There was also a note.”
He handed Evelyn a photograph of the note, which had been recovered from a desk near the hangar entrance.
The message was short.
The ledger is only half the evidence. Find the recording before the daughter does.
Beneath the sentence was a signature.
V.H.
Victor Hale.
Evelyn looked at Adrian.
“This confirms that he knows about the ledger.”
“And that he believes Nora has access to the other half,” Adrian replied.
I shook my head.
“I don't know where the recording is.”
“Someone may believe your father told you,” Evelyn said. “Or they may believe he left you a clue.”
I thought of the recipe book, the hidden note, and the brass key.
Then I remembered something else.
The café had a basement.
My father used it for old equipment, seasonal decorations, and boxes of records that he said were too important to throw away but too boring to look at. After his death, Maureen had forbidden me to enter it without her permission.
She had claimed the floor was unsafe.
I looked at Adrian.
“I think I know where to search.”
We returned to the café under police supervision.
The basement door was hidden behind a shelf in the kitchen. I moved the cleaning supplies and unlocked it with a key that had hung on my father's ring for as long as I could remember.
The stairs creaked beneath our weight.
At the bottom, a bare bulb illuminated shelves of old cups, broken chairs, and dusty boxes.
I began searching the containers marked with my father's handwriting.
Winter decorations.
Old menus.
Coffee equipment.
Then I found a small wooden box labeled PERSONAL.
Inside were photographs, a fountain pen, and a cassette recorder.
Beneath the recorder lay a sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
I opened it with shaking hands.
The note inside contained only one sentence.
Nora, if you're reading this, Maureen has found out about the recording.
Behind me, Adrian went completely still.
I turned the page over.
May you like
There was another sentence.
And if she has, then the person who killed me is already inside your home.
