Chapter 6 - The Security Chief
Four armed officers moved before Thomas Reed could touch his weapon.
“Hands up!”
He froze.
Vincent did not.
He stepped forward.
“Why were you reaching for your gun?”
Reed looked down.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was going to remove it.”
“Why?”
“Because this looks bad.”
I almost laughed.
Nobody else did.
The investigator took Reed’s weapon and escorted him into the hallway.
Vincent followed.
“Thomas, look at me.”
Reed did.
“You have protected this family for nine years.”
“Yes.”
“You held Leo in the hospital when Isabella died.”
Reed’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“You stood beside me at her grave.”
“Yes.”
“So tell me why my wife recorded you leaving Harrison Blake’s office at midnight.”
Reed closed his eyes.
“Because she asked me to investigate him.”
That answer stopped everyone.
Vincent frowned.
“What?”
“Isabella asked me to watch Blake.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she made me promise.”
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“Apparently my wife had a collection of promises nobody thought I deserved to know about.”
Reed looked ashamed.
“She was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From yourself.”
Vincent stepped toward him.
“Careful.”
“You were preparing the Eastport acquisition. Federal regulators were threatening to block it. The newspapers were calling you a criminal. You weren’t sleeping. Isabella believed that if she gave you another problem, you’d go to war before she had proof.”
“That sounds like me.”
“It sounded like you to her too.”
Reed glanced toward the hidden room.
“She asked me to find out who had accessed the residential wing. I traced one unauthorized maintenance visit to Michael Vane.”
“The man in the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I tried.”
Reed’s voice lowered.
“He disappeared.”
“He died.”
“Not before he called me.”
The hallway went still.
“What did he say?” I asked.
Reed looked at me.
“He said he had installed devices but didn’t know what they contained. He was paid cash. He was afraid.”
“Who paid him?”
“He wouldn’t say over the phone.”
Vincent’s voice became cold.
“And then he died.”
“Three days before we were supposed to meet.”
I frowned.
“Mrs. Harper said he died three weeks after Isabella.”
“He did.”
Reed looked at Vincent.
“Michael called me seventeen days after her funeral.”
“Did you investigate the crash?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Nothing obvious. Wet road. High speed.”
Vincent looked exhausted.
“Then why did you stop?”
“I didn’t.”
Reed hesitated.
“I confronted Blake.”
That explained Isabella’s recording.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He denied everything. Said Isabella was unstable and Michael had been fired for theft.”
“Was he?”
“No.”
Vincent stared at Reed.
“Why did you let Blake remain my doctor?”
“Because he had something on me.”
The room shifted.
“What?”
Reed looked toward the investigators.
“I had copied internal security data without authorization for Isabella. Some of it involved business meetings unrelated to the household. Blake knew. He threatened to make it look like I was selling information.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“You let him blackmail you for four years?”
“I tried to keep him away from the boys.”
“You failed.”
“I know.”
That was the first time Reed looked broken.
“I know.”
The investigator asked him about the deleted footage.
Reed shook his head.
“I didn’t erase it.”
“Who did?”
“Blake had credentials.”
“So did you.”
“Yes.”
“You expect us to believe you never noticed?”
“I noticed gaps. But there were hundreds of cameras. He knew how to make the deletions look like routine data cycling.”
“How?”
“I trained him.”
Vincent’s head snapped toward him.
Reed swallowed.
“After Isabella died, you ordered me to give him access.”
For a moment nobody spoke.
Vincent turned away.
Every road seemed to lead back to a decision he had made while grieving.
I could see him collecting those decisions like stones to punish himself with later.
I touched his arm.
“Not now.”
He looked at my hand.
Then at me.
“Not now,” I repeated.
We had children to save.
Guilt could wait.
By afternoon, investigators had enough to hold Blake for questioning but not enough to arrest Daniel.
Daniel’s attorney arrived.
Blake’s attorney arrived twenty minutes later.
Neither man spoke again.
But something strange happened as Daniel was preparing to leave.
He asked to speak to Vincent privately.
Vincent refused.
“Claire stays.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Fine.”
We stood in the library.
Daniel appeared ten years older than he had that morning.
“I didn’t know about the pills.”
Vincent said nothing.
“I swear.”
“Your promises have depreciated.”
Daniel flinched.
“I knew Harrison was managing the boys.”
“Managing.”
“I knew he was giving them something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?” I asked.
“He told me it was to control symptoms.”
“Did you ask what?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Daniel’s answer was almost a whisper.
“Because I didn’t want to know.”
Vincent stared at him.
Daniel continued.
“Four years ago, Isabella found the financial transfers.”
“Were you stealing from me?”
“No.”
“Then what were the transfers?”
Daniel looked toward the windows.
“Political money. Unofficial consulting. Payments we couldn’t have attached to Moretti Holdings.”
Vincent’s face changed.
“You used my family accounts.”
“Temporary accounts.”
“My wife found them.”
“Yes.”
“And Harrison?”
“He knew Isabella had evidence.”
“Why would my doctor care about business payments?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Because some of the money went to him.”
There it was.
“How much?” Vincent asked.
“Over six years? Maybe two million.”
“For what?”
Daniel’s silence answered before his words did.
“Information.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“What information?”
“Health information. People. Executives. Negotiation targets. Competitors.”
I felt sick.
Blake had been selling private medical information.
Daniel had been buying it.
Vincent looked like he might hit him.
“You used a doctor to spy on people.”
“Yes.”
“My doctor.”
“Yes.”
“My wife’s doctor.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
“And when Isabella discovered it?”
“I told Harrison to fix the situation.”
The room froze.
Vincent’s voice became almost inaudible.
“Define fix.”
“I meant convince her the payments were legitimate. Delete his involvement. Make it go away.”
“Did you order him to harm her?”
“No.”
“Did you cause her accident?”
“No!”
The answer exploded out of him.
Daniel’s eyes filled.
“I loved Isabella.”
“Then you should have protected her.”
“I know.”
Vincent grabbed his jacket and shoved him against the bookshelf.
I stepped forward.
“Vincent.”
He didn’t hear me.
“You knew she was afraid.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Harrison was lying to her.”
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing.”
“Yes.”
Vincent raised his fist.
“Vincent!”
This time he stopped.
Daniel did not defend himself.
Maybe he thought he deserved it.
Vincent lowered his hand.
Then shoved him away.
“Get out.”
Daniel straightened his jacket.
At the door he turned.
“There’s something else.”
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“Of course there is.”
“Harrison wasn’t alone the night Isabella died.”
Vincent stopped.
“What?”
“After the accident, I checked his phone records.”
“Why?”
“Because I was scared.”
“Who did he call?”
Daniel looked at me.
Then Vincent.
“Someone at this estate.”
“Who?”
“The call lasted forty-three seconds.”
“Daniel.”
“It went to the private landline in your upstairs study.”
Vincent stared at him.
“I wasn’t home.”
“I know.”
“Who was?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Your father.”
The room became silent.
Carlo Moretti.
Vincent’s father.
Founder of the family empire.
The man whose portrait hung above the grand staircase.
The man who had died two years ago.
Daniel continued.
“Your father called Harrison four times that week.”
Vincent’s face became unreadable.
“You’re lying.”
“I have records.”
“Why would my father talk to my wife’s doctor?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe you uncovered this and never told me?”
“I was already involved in illegal payments. Your father knew. Harrison knew. Everyone had leverage over everyone.”
Daniel touched the door handle.
“That family was a house built on secrets, Vincent.”
Vincent looked toward the hallway leading upstairs.
“No.”
Daniel opened the door.
Before leaving, he said quietly:
“Ask Mrs. Harper why your father moved back into the estate three months before Isabella died.”
That night, Vincent found Mrs. Harper in the kitchen.
She saw his face and already knew.
“You knew.”
Mrs. Harper began trembling.
“Sir—”
“My father.”
She sat down.
“Your father and Isabella hated each other.”
“Why?”
“He wanted the twins raised as Morettis.”
“They are Morettis.”
“You know what he meant.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
My instincts told me this family had traditions nobody wrote down.
Mrs. Harper continued.
“Mrs. Moretti wanted you to sell certain businesses. She wanted the boys away from the people surrounding them.”
“What people?”
“Your father.”
She looked at him.
“Daniel.”
Then at me.
“Harrison.”
Vincent lowered himself into a chair.
“Did my father threaten her?”
Mrs. Harper cried silently.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He told her she had entered a world she didn’t understand.”
Vincent covered his mouth.
“He said if she tried to take the boys away, she would regret it.”
The front door alarm suddenly sounded.
Thomas Reed’s replacement called through the radio.
“Mr. Moretti, we have an intruder near the east wing.”
Vincent stood.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
Security rushed upstairs.
We followed from a distance.
The intruder never reached the twins’ old bedrooms.
He escaped through a service stairwell.
But he left something behind.
On the floor outside Isabella’s former dressing room sat an envelope.
Vincent opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Lucas and Leo taken less than two weeks earlier.
The boys were playing in the garden.
Someone had circled both of their faces in red ink.
May you like
On the back were six words.
Stop digging where Isabella already died.
