Chapter 6 - THE PRESCOTT FILE
Julian laughed.
It was not amusement.
It was the sound a man made when reality had demanded one impossible thing too many.
“You’re going to tell me about my father?”
Richard Prescott stayed near the library door.
“I’m going to tell you enough to keep you from making the worst mistake of your life.”
“My worst mistake was almost marrying your daughter.”
Camille, sitting beyond the doorway, heard him.
Her face crumpled.
Richard ignored it.
“Adrian Hawthorne raised you.”
“He was my father.”
“He loved you.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Richard looked toward Detective Ellis.
“I want immunity.”
Ellis almost smiled.
“You’re standing in a private library, not negotiating with a district attorney.”
“Then call one.”
“For what crime?”
Richard looked at the blue ledger.
“Pick one.”
Camille stood.
“Dad.”
He finally turned.
“What?”
“What did you do?”
Richard’s shoulders dropped.
For the first time that night, he looked old.
“Everything I thought I had to do.”
Camille stared at him.
“That means nothing.”
“It means I built a company in a state where Malcolm Hawthorne controlled access to half the financing I needed. He found politicians. I found developers. He moved money. I moved land.”
“And people died.”
Richard’s eyes went to Nora.
“I didn’t know about Clara until afterward.”
Nora’s jaw tightened.
“You knew about Helena.”
Richard said nothing.
She stepped toward him.
“You watched her die.”
“I told Malcolm to help her.”
“You watched him remove her fingers.”
Richard’s face went white.
Julian moved.
Daniel intercepted him.
“Sir.”
“Move.”
“Not while you’re looking at him like that.”
Julian breathed once.
Twice.
Then stepped back.
Richard opened his jacket carefully.
Every officer in the room tensed.
He raised his hands.
“Inside pocket. Paper.”
Ellis removed an envelope herself.
The front said:
PRESCOTT FILE.
Inside were photocopied bank records, photographs, and signed transfer authorizations.
Richard spoke.
“Helena gave those to me the night she died.”
Nora stared.
“When?”
“Before the balcony.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew I was frightened of Malcolm.”
Julian looked at him.
“You were frightened?”
“Yes.”
“Helena died and you helped him make it look accidental.”
Richard lowered his eyes.
“I had a wife. A seven-year-old daughter. Malcolm knew things about my company that would have put me in prison.”
Camille whispered, “Me?”
Richard nodded.
“You were seven.”
Camille laughed in disbelief.
“So you let a woman die because you were protecting me?”
“No.”
“Don’t use me.”
“Camille—”
“Don’t you dare use me.”
She moved away from him.
For the first time, Nora saw something human beneath Camille’s cruelty.
Not goodness.
But the collapse of a story she had believed about her own family.
Richard continued.
“Helena was investigating transfers Malcolm made after Adrian’s death.”
“My father’s death?” Julian asked.
“Yes.”
Adrian Hawthorne died from a heart attack when Julian was nine.
At least that was what Julian had always been told.
Richard met his eyes.
“There was never an autopsy.”
Julian’s skin went cold.
“No.”
“I’m not saying Malcolm killed Adrian.”
“You just implied it.”
“I’m saying Helena became suspicious after Adrian’s death because Malcolm immediately began reorganizing the family trusts.”
Detective Ellis opened one document.
“What about Julian’s birth?”
Richard closed his eyes briefly.
“Adrian couldn’t have children.”
Nobody moved.
Julian’s voice became quiet.
“What?”
“An illness when he was twenty-two left him sterile.”
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“My mother would have told me.”
“Maybe she planned to.”
“Who was my father?”
“I don’t know.”
Julian crossed the room and grabbed Richard by the jacket.
Officers moved.
Julian released him before they reached him.
“Who?”
“I swear I don’t know.”
“Then why did Malcolm care?”
“Because Adrian knew you weren’t biologically his and named you heir anyway. Malcolm believed Hawthorne Holdings should pass to him if Adrian had no natural son.”
Julian stared.
“My father chose me.”
Richard nodded.
“Yes.”
A strange silence followed.
The revelation should have destroyed something.
Instead, it clarified it.
Adrian had known.
Adrian had still carried Julian on his shoulders.
Taught him to sail.
Sat beside his bed when he had pneumonia.
Called him son.
Blood had nothing to do with it.
Malcolm had cared.
Adrian had not.
Julian looked at the fireplace.
“My father was Adrian Hawthorne.”
Richard nodded again.
“Yes.”
“Then we’re done discussing that.”
Nora watched him.
Something in her expression changed.
Respect, perhaps.
Richard gave Detective Ellis the remaining papers.
“One photograph matters.”
She found it.
A younger Malcolm stood beside Richard outside First National Greenwich.
Between them was a third man.
Julian did not recognize him.
Nora did.
Her knees nearly gave out.
“That’s the man from my apartment.”
Daniel took the photo.
“He’s older now?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
Richard answered.
“Gavin Pike.”
“Who is he?”
“Malcolm’s fixer.”
Detective Ellis looked at him.
“For eighteen years?”
“Longer.”
“What does he fix?”
Richard’s answer was immediate.
“Anything money can’t.”
Nora touched the welt on her cheek.
“The balcony attacker.”
Richard nodded.
“Probably.”
“Was he involved in my mother’s death?”
“I don’t know.”
Nora crossed the room.
Richard stepped backward.
“You knew his name for eighteen years.”
“Yes.”
“And never told police.”
“No.”
She slapped him.
The sound echoed through the library.
Richard did not move.
Nora’s hand shook.
“I wish that made me feel better.”
She walked away.
Camille watched her.
Then looked at the riding-crop welt across Nora’s face.
Something like shame appeared.
It did not last long.
“Why did Malcolm want the west wing reopened?” Julian asked.
Richard rubbed his cheek.
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
“He wanted the opposite.”
“Then why claim renovation?”
“So he could remove anything Helena left behind before you restored those rooms for the wedding.”
Julian looked at Camille.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You followed Nora upstairs.”
“Because Malcolm called me.”
Everyone turned.
Camille pressed her lips together.
Julian stepped closer.
“He called you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He said one of the maids had been asking about Helena’s room. He told me to find out why.”
“So you grabbed her necklace.”
“I saw it and recognized it.”
“How?”
Camille looked at her father.
Richard answered.
“We had photographs.”
“Of my mother’s jewelry?”
“Of evidence.”
Nora whispered, “You knew the locket mattered.”
Camille nodded reluctantly.
“I panicked.”
“So you beat me?”
“I hit you once.”
Nora’s eyes hardened.
“You raised it again.”
Camille looked away.
Detective Ellis lifted Camille’s phone.
“And ‘burn’?”
Camille closed her eyes.
“Malcolm told me if Nora had the locket, the bedroom had to be cleared immediately.”
“What exact words?”
“He said, ‘Burn the old papers before Julian sees them.’”
Julian felt something inside him harden permanently.
“He used you.”
Camille laughed bitterly.
“Apparently everyone does.”
Nora did not offer comfort.
Neither did Julian.
Daniel entered after taking a call.
“We found something.”
“What?”
“Pike’s property.”
“Where?”
“An LLC connected to him owns a warehouse near Bridgeport.”
“And?”
“Traffic cameras caught Malcolm’s car heading south twenty minutes ago.”
Richard swore.
“He’s going to the warehouse.”
“Why?”
Richard looked toward the memory card.
“Because he thinks Helena’s copies are there.”
Julian frowned.
“Why would they be?”
“They wouldn’t.”
Nora suddenly understood.
“My apartment.”
Everyone looked at her.
“The men searched everything except my mother’s old storage boxes.”
“Where are those?” Daniel asked.
“In a storage unit.”
“Location?”
Nora’s face drained.
“Bridgeport.”
Daniel was already dialing.
“What facility?”
“Bennett Storage on Fairfield Avenue.”
Richard laughed once without humor.
“That used to belong to Clara’s brother.”
Nora nodded.
“My uncle.”
Richard looked at Julian.
“Malcolm isn’t going to Pike’s warehouse.”
Julian felt the answer before Richard said it.
“He’s going to Nora’s storage unit.”
They left Alderwyn in three vehicles.
Police went first.
Daniel drove the second.
Julian sat beside him.
Nora sat in back despite Julian’s objections.
Richard remained at Alderwyn under police supervision.
Camille stayed too.
Nobody trusted either of them.
Rain hammered the windshield.
Nora stared outside.
“My mother kept one locked trunk.”
“What was in it?” Julian asked.
“I don’t know. I never had the key.”
Julian touched the brass star in the evidence pouch.
“What kind of lock?”
Nora looked at it.
“I think we’re carrying the key.”
They reached the storage facility at 2:14 a.m.
One gate had been cut open.
Police entered first.
Row after row of metal doors reflected flashing blue lights.
Nora led them to Unit 317.
Julian looked at the number.
The key.
The star.
Nora whispered, “My mother planned this.”
The unit door was open.
Inside, boxes had been thrown everywhere.
A man lay unconscious near the wall.
Not Malcolm.
Gavin Pike.
Blood covered his forehead.
Detective Ellis checked him.
“Alive.”
Nora stepped over torn photographs.
At the back stood a blue metal trunk.
Untouched.
The lock had a star-shaped opening.
Julian inserted Helena’s silver star.
The mechanism clicked.
Inside were files.
Cassette tapes.
Photographs.
A sealed envelope addressed to JULIAN.
And a second envelope addressed to NORA.
Nora reached for hers.
Then Daniel shouted.
“Stop!”
A tiny red light blinked beneath the lid.
Wires ran into the trunk.
Bomb.
Everyone froze.
A speaker crackled from somewhere inside the storage unit.
Malcolm’s voice filled the room.
“Julian.”
Julian slowly raised his head.
“If you’re hearing this, then you finally found what your mother died protecting.”
Nora backed toward the door.
Malcolm continued.
“You have two choices.”
The red light began flashing faster.
“You can chase the truth.”
A digital timer illuminated.
01:59.
01:58.
01:57.
“Or you can save the woman standing beside you.”
Julian looked at Nora.
May you like
Malcolm’s voice became almost gentle.
“You cannot do both.”
