Chapter 6 - THE LETTER THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING|
I read the first line of my grandmother's letter three times.
If you ever learn what happened to my granddaughter, you must tell her why her mother was murdered.
The room seemed to shrink around me.
My mother had died when I was seven. The official explanation had been an accidental overdose involving medication she had been prescribed after a serious illness. My grandmother had never suggested otherwise.
I had spent twenty-five years believing that the woman who raised me had simply been trying to protect a grieving child.
Now I wondered whether she had been protecting me from the truth.
Adrian broke the seal.
Inside were four handwritten pages, a photograph, and a folded document bearing the signature of his father, Richard Cole.
He began reading aloud.
"My father established a private fund for your grandmother," he said. "He arranged payments to support you after your mother's death. But the payments stopped when you were twelve."
"Why?"
He turned the page.
"According to your grandmother, someone threatened to expose your location if she continued accepting the money."
I shook my head.
"My grandmother never took charity from anyone."
"Perhaps she believed accepting it would put you in danger."
He continued reading.
The letter described a woman named Margaret Bell, a former employee at one of the Cole family's shipping offices. Margaret had discovered evidence of financial fraud involving several powerful men.
One of those men was Richard Cole.
But according to my grandmother, Richard had been trying to expose the fraud when the evidence disappeared.
My mother had helped Margaret hide the original documents.
Three weeks later, my mother died.
I covered my mouth.
"Why would my mother get involved in something like that?"
Adrian lowered the letter.
"Because she believed someone was going to hurt people she cared about."
He showed me the photograph.
It depicted my mother standing outside the estate beside Richard Cole.
She was holding a small envelope.
On the back, my grandmother had written:
The night before everything changed.
I stared at my mother's face.
She looked younger than I remembered, her dark hair loose around her shoulders and her smile almost defiant.
For years, I had kept only one photograph of her.
Now I was looking at a woman who appeared to have known she was in danger.
"Did your father know she would be killed?" I asked.
Adrian did not answer immediately.
"I don't know."
"Then find out."
He nodded.
"I will."
The following morning, Adrian arranged a meeting with Margaret Bell's former attorney, a retired lawyer named Samuel Price.
Samuel lived in a quiet neighborhood outside Boston. He had practiced law for forty years before retiring, and he appeared genuinely surprised when Adrian arrived at his door.
"I wondered when someone would come asking about Richard Cole," he said.
Adrian's expression hardened.
"What do you know?"
Samuel invited us inside.
He explained that Richard had discovered a network of fraudulent shipping contracts involving several members of his own organization. The contracts concealed illegal payments and allowed certain associates to divert money from legitimate businesses.
Richard had intended to turn over the evidence to federal investigators.
Then Margaret disappeared.
My mother died.
And Richard suffered a fatal heart attack less than a year later.
The case collapsed.
"What about Eleanor Bennett?" I asked.
Samuel studied me.
"Your grandmother was the only person who knew where the original records had been hidden."
"Did she tell you?"
"No. She told me that if anyone ever came looking for the documents, I should first ask whether the person was willing to protect the child."
He looked at Adrian.
"Now I understand why."
Adrian leaned forward.
"Where are the records?"
Samuel removed a small key from his desk drawer.
"Richard left instructions that this should be given to Nora Bennett if she ever came forward."
My hands trembled as I accepted it.
"What does it open?"
"A safe deposit box. The account was established under your mother's maiden name."
Before we could leave, Samuel stopped us.
"There is one more thing."
He opened an old newspaper archive on his computer.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed my mother leaving a courthouse on the afternoon before her death.
Beside her stood a man whose face was partially hidden by the shadow of a building.
Samuel enlarged the image.
Adrian went rigid.
The man was Victor Shaw.
His current head of security.
I looked at Adrian.
"Could he have been protecting her?"
Adrian stared at the photograph.
"Or watching her."
His phone rang.
Victor's name appeared on the screen.
Adrian answered.
"Where are you?"
"At the estate, sir. I need to speak with you immediately."
"About what?"
There was a pause.
Then Victor said, "Someone has stolen the original personnel files. And before they disappeared, they accessed Nora's grandmother's records."
Adrian's gaze met mine.
"Who had access?"
Victor lowered his voice.
"Only three people."
"Names."
"Vanessa Whitmore. Your personal assistant. And me."
The call ended.
Adrian slowly lowered the phone.
For the first time since I had met him, he looked genuinely uncertain whom he could trust.
Then my own phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent a photograph of my grandmother's house in Maine.
The building was dark.
The windows were broken.
May you like
And someone had written a message across the image.
Come home, Nora. The truth is waiting.
