Chapter 3 - The Man Outside My Door|
Cameron moved before I could react.
He pulled me away from the entrance, switched off the living-room lamp, and motioned for me to stay behind the kitchen wall.
“Don't make a sound,” he whispered.
The man who had struggled to stand ten minutes earlier suddenly looked frighteningly alert.
Another crash shook the door.
“Police!” a voice called.
I started toward the entrance.
Cameron caught my wrist.
“Wait.”
“How do you know they're not police?”
“Because real officers identify themselves through the building's security desk. And because whoever is outside knows exactly where you live.”
A third impact splintered the doorframe.
Cameron pulled out his phone and called emergency services. He gave our address, described the attempted forced entry, and stayed on the line while I stood frozen beside the refrigerator.
Then a voice came through the door.
“Ms. Carter? We need to speak with you about your mother.”
My heart stopped.
Cameron looked at me.
“Don't answer.”
The voice continued.
“We have information about Margaret Carter. She was murdered, and your employer knows why.”
My stomach twisted.
“What if it's true?”
“Then they'll have evidence. They won't need to break down your door to give it to you.”
The footsteps outside moved away.
A moment later, I heard the stairwell door slam.
When the police arrived, they found a damaged lock, a partial shoe impression, and a small black envelope pushed beneath my door. The officers took our statements and promised to increase patrols.
Inside the envelope was a photocopy of an old hospital invoice.
My mother's name appeared at the top.
Beneath it was a payment authorization signed by Charles Whitmore.
The date was three days before her accident.
I felt as though the floor had tilted beneath me.
“That's proof,” I whispered.
“It's a lead,” Cameron corrected gently. “Not proof of murder.”
I looked at him.
“Why are you protecting him?”
“I'm not. I'm protecting the truth from being dismissed because we moved too quickly.”
That was the first thing he had said all night that sounded like the man I knew from the boardroom.
It was also the first thing that made me trust him a fraction more.
By two in the morning, Cameron had contacted a security company and arranged for a licensed investigator to document the break-in. I refused to go to his penthouse.
“If I disappear into your world now, everyone will say you bought my silence.”
“Then I'll stay here.”
“You can barely fit on my couch.”
“I've survived worse accommodations.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
He slept sitting upright, one arm folded across his chest, while I stayed awake in my bedroom with a chair wedged beneath the handle.
At sunrise, I found him in my kitchen making coffee.
It was terrible coffee.
“You run a multibillion-dollar company,” I said, tasting it. “Surely you can afford someone who knows how to use a coffee maker.”
“I can acquire entire companies. Apparently, I cannot operate your appliances.”
For the first time since the previous night, the apartment felt almost normal.
Then his phone rang.
Daniel had obtained access to part of the sealed archive. He had also discovered that someone was attempting to transfer shares belonging to Cameron's late father into a private trust controlled by Vanessa's family.
The transfer would give Charles Whitmore influence over Reed Global.
“Vanessa knew,” Cameron said quietly. “She knew what her father was planning.”
“Maybe she came to you last night because she wanted to warn you.”
He shook his head.
“She told me I was incapable of loving anyone. Then she said she couldn't marry a man who was about to lose everything.”
“Perhaps she knew you were investigating her father.”
“Perhaps.”
He looked toward the window.
“There's something else. The trust document requires a witness from the original foundation.”
“Who?”
Cameron turned back toward me.
“Your mother.”
I stared at him.
May you like
“She died twenty-eight years ago.”
“According to the document, she signed it three weeks after her reported death.”
