Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH A THOUSAND EYES
I stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
ELEVEN DAYS AGO.
The bank's entry did not say someone had requested a file in Lily's name. It said the access had been verified in person using current identification. I made Kieran read it aloud twice because I didn't trust my own eyes.
"Someone could have stolen her identity," he said.
"Or she could be alive."
"Yes."
It was a small word, but it seemed to cost him years.
I called my mother's hospital room. Alison answered and told me she was resting after another round of tests. I wanted to wake her, to demand everything she knew, but remembered the way her monitor had raced when she'd seen Kieran. She couldn't survive another crisis just to satisfy our fear.
"Please tell her I'm safe," I said.
Alison paused. "Are you?"
I looked around Kieran's study. Security screens covered one wall. There were cameras in the driveway, the gates, the pantry corridor, the staff entrance. I'd never minded them when I was too busy scrubbing floors to imagine anyone watching. Now they made the house feel full of invisible faces.
"I'm working on it," I said.
Kieran arranged for an independent investigator, a retired detective named Mara Ellis, to meet us at the bank the following morning. She'd once investigated financial crimes for the state and seemed completely unimpressed by his money. On the phone she asked whether he had contacted police about the note, the forged bill, or the suspicious file access.
"We should preserve the evidence and make reports," she said. "If you're serious about doing this cleanly, Mr. Blackwood, you don't get to keep it inside your walls."
"Agreed," he replied.
When he hung up, I raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you could agree to being told what to do."
"I don't enjoy it."
"That explains your face."
He gave a tired laugh. It vanished when his phone rang again.
The display read ROWAN PRICE.
Kieran answered on speaker. "Talk."
"Sir, I didn't touch Miss Torres's room," Rowan said. "But I know who accessed the records system. I didn't want to tell the investigator because you need to hear it first."
"Then tell me."
"Your chief financial officer, Bennett Vale, authorized a contractor credential at 2:40. The contractor connected from the east gate office. I have the entry logs."
Kieran went very still. Bennett Vale had come to dinner three times in my eighteen months at the estate. He wore expensive cologne, complained about the coffee, and never learned my name.
"Why didn't the investigator hear this?" Kieran asked.
"Because Bennett told me my brother would lose his medical coverage if I reported him. My brother's at a rehabilitation center. Blackwood Holdings pays the group plan." Rowan's voice cracked. "I've been afraid to say anything for months."
I could hear the shame beneath his words. I knew exactly what fear could make a person hide when someone they loved needed a doctor.
"Where are you?" Kieran asked.
"The garage. I'm taking the logs to Mara Ellis. If you still want me on staff after this, I'll understand if you don't."
"Don't leave the property alone," Kieran said. "I'll send someone to you."
The line went dead.
A second later, the security monitor above the desk flickered. On the garage camera, Rowan walked toward a white service van. A man climbed out in a gray uniform. They exchanged a few words. Then Rowan staggered backward as the man struck him with something dark.
"Kieran!"
He was already moving. He grabbed his radio and ordered staff to lock down the vehicle exits and call emergency services. I ran after him to the foyer before common sense caught up with me. Through the glass, I saw the van speed toward the east gate, where metal barriers slid into place. The driver swerved, crashed into a stone planter, then escaped on foot into the trees.
Kieran stopped two steps outside. He turned to me. "Stay inside. Please."
For once, I didn't argue. There were people trained to handle what was happening, and my rushing toward danger wouldn't make me brave. It would make another person for them to protect.
I stood beside Mrs. Dunn while paramedics brought Rowan out on a stretcher. He was conscious, holding a bloody towel to his head. He caught sight of me and lifted two fingers in a weak salute.
"Tell him," he called, "the driver's badge said Voss Security."
The name meant nothing to me. It meant plenty to Kieran. He went pale beneath his anger.
Later, Mara Ellis arrived and took statements. She asked me about my room, the note, the key, and whether I believed Rowan had threatened me. I told her every fact I knew. I didn't tell her what I wanted those facts to mean.
"Your boss has enemies," she said when we finished. "That doesn't automatically make him your enemy. But it doesn't make this property safe, either. Is there somewhere else you can stay?"
"I have an aunt in Queens," I said. "She's out of town this week."
"Consider it. And don't let anybody make you feel disloyal for choosing your own safety."
I liked her immediately.
By evening, an ambulance had taken Rowan to a nearby hospital. The police had the van, the fake company badge, and partial fingerprints. Kieran spent an hour on the phone with his attorney, then returned to the kitchen where I was making tea.
"You don't have to work," he said.
"I'm not working. I'm making tea because my hands won't stop shaking."
He took that in, then stood on the other side of the island exactly where he'd stood at three that morning. It felt as if weeks had passed since the conversation that started everything.
"Bennett Vale has disappeared," he said. "His apartment's empty. His phone's off."
"And Voss Security?"
"Owned by a man named Victor Voss. He handled private operations for my father. I cut his contracts years ago. I didn't know Bennett had brought him back through a shell company."
"What kind of private operations?"
Kieran took a long time to answer. "The kind I should have asked more questions about. The kind my father called necessary and my mother called evil."
"You weren't a child."
"I know."
He didn't make excuses, and that left me with the difficult job of deciding what I thought of him for myself.
"People say you run a criminal organization," I said.
"I inherited one. I've tried to move the legitimate businesses away from it. I didn't move fast enough, and I haven't walked away from everything I should have." He looked directly at me. "I won't ask you to pretend otherwise."
The truth wasn't romantic. It was necessary.
"I can't be somebody you protect while you keep hurting other people," I said.
"Then don't be. Hold me to something better."
I shook my head. "That's your job, Kieran. I have enough jobs already."
For a moment he looked stricken. Then he nodded. "You're right."
I carried my tea to the conservatory, where rain tapped the glass roof. Kieran followed but stopped at the doorway.
"May I sit?" he asked.
I pointed at the chair opposite mine.
We talked for an hour. Not about the fire, or the notes, or the people trying to frighten us. We talked about the worst movies we'd ever seen, the terrible food he made when left alone, the way my mother played the same song whenever she cleaned her apartment. He told me Lily used to hide gummy bears in his suit pockets before important meetings. I laughed hard enough to surprise us both.
When the laughter faded, the distance between our chairs seemed suddenly enormous.
"Why didn't you ever speak to me like this?" I asked.
"Because I wanted to, and wanting something from someone who worked for me felt wrong."
"But being jealous about a phone call felt fine?"
"No. That was wrong too."
I appreciated that he didn't try to win the argument. I appreciated even more that he looked at me like a person, not a prize.
"I should find another job," I said quietly.
Pain crossed his face, but he didn't argue. "I'll give you a reference based on your work. Your wages and benefits won't depend on whether we ever speak again."
I studied him. "And if I choose to speak to you after I leave?"
"I'd like that. Very much."
I moved into the chair beside his. He didn't reach for me. I took his hand first.
The kiss, when it came, was gentle and brief and terrifying for entirely different reasons than anything that had happened that day. He drew back before I did.
"We should go slowly," he murmured.
"For once, Mr. Blackwood, we agree."
The lights dimmed.
Not just the conservatory. The entire estate went dark.
A security alarm sounded somewhere below us. From outside came a sharp metallic crash, followed by a woman's scream.
My phone illuminated the table.
An unknown sender had delivered a video.
It showed my mother in her hospital bed, asleep, filmed from the doorway.
May you like
Beneath it was a new message:
BRING THE KEY TO THE BANK TOMORROW. COME ALONE. OR SHE WON'T WAKE UP.
