Chapter 10 - The Key Beneath the Floorboards|
Eleanor did not speak for nearly a minute.
Claire had never seen her mother so frightened. Even after her father's funeral, Eleanor had remained composed, comforting relatives and making certain Claire ate something before bed.
Now her hands shook as she pulled a chair toward the kitchen table.
“Your father gave me the key the night before he died,” she said.
“Where is it?”
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
Eleanor looked toward the hallway.
“Under the floorboards in your old bedroom.”
Claire stared at her.
“You kept this secret for twelve years?”
“I thought it would protect you.”
“From what? The truth?”
“From the people who killed your father.”
The words landed between them.
Neither woman moved.
Finally, Claire whispered, “You believe he was murdered.”
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
“I always believed something was wrong. Your father was careful. He never drove fast, and he knew that road better than anyone. The night he died, he called me and said he was coming home early.”
“Why didn't you tell the police?”
“I did. They said there was no evidence. Then a man came to the house and told me the investigation was closed. He knew your school, your teachers, and the route you walked home.”
Claire covered her mouth.
Eleanor reached across the table.
“I was terrified. I had already lost your father. I couldn't risk losing you too.”
Claire wanted to be angry, but she could see the fear her mother had carried for years.
“Show me the key.”
They drove to the house where Claire had grown up. It had been sold years earlier, but Eleanor still owned a small storage unit containing furniture and boxes from the old home.
Inside one box, wrapped in a faded blue scarf, lay a brass key.
There was also a folded note.
Storage locker 417. Lakeside Terminal. If the records are still there, trust no one who says they are protecting you.
Claire read the note twice.
“Lakeside Terminal is closed.”
“Not entirely,” Eleanor said. “The old storage building is still there.”
They contacted Daniel, who insisted on accompanying them. Adrian also offered security, but Claire refused to let him control the search.
“If you want to help, give Daniel the records you found,” she told him. “Do not send men to follow us.”
Adrian agreed.
At the terminal, the storage locker was hidden behind a row of rusted metal doors. The key turned with difficulty.
Inside was a narrow cabinet, several sealed envelopes, and a small tape recorder.
Claire opened the first envelope.
It contained bank statements showing transfers between Richard Reynolds and several shell companies. Another envelope held a photograph of her father standing beside Adrian's father.
On the back, someone had written:
They both know. One is afraid. The other is guilty.
Claire stared at the photograph.
“Adrian's father?”
Daniel nodded.
“We need to authenticate these documents.”
She pressed play on the recorder.
Static filled the small room, followed by her father's voice.
“If anyone is hearing this, it means I was unable to deliver the evidence myself.”
Claire stopped breathing.
Her father continued.
“Richard Reynolds is moving money through the Moretti trust. But he isn't acting alone. Someone inside the family has been authorizing the transfers.”
A pause.
Then came a sentence that made Claire's blood run cold.
“The person helping him is the last person Adrian would ever suspect.”
The recording ended.
Claire pressed the button again.
Nothing.
Daniel checked the device.
“The tape is damaged. There may be another recording, but we need a specialist.”
Claire looked at the photograph of the two older men.
May you like
She had thought she was investigating her father's death.
Now she was beginning to suspect that the man who had abandoned her during pregnancy might have inherited a family secret far more dangerous than his criminal empire.
