Chapter 8 - THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
By noon, three news vans were parked outside Alderwyn’s gates.
By one, there were eleven.
The story had spread from local society blogs to national outlets.
BILLIONAIRE ENDS ENGAGEMENT AFTER FIANCÉE ASSAULTS MAID.
OLD EVIDENCE REOPENS HAWTHORNE MATRIARCH DEATH.
MYSTERY LOCKET MAY HOLD KEY TO 18-YEAR-OLD FALL.
Camille hated all three headlines.
Richard Prescott hated the fourth.
PRESCOTT NAME APPEARS IN SECRET HAWTHORNE LEDGER.
His lawyers began issuing denials before breakfast.
Julian issued none.
He left for Vermont with Nora, Daniel, and Detective Ellis.
No press.
No convoy.
No Hawthorne jet.
They drove.
Six hours north, the wealth of Greenwich disappeared behind mountains, rain, and long stretches of road lined with pine.
Nora barely spoke.
Neither did Julian.
Finally she said, “I don’t want your house.”
He looked at her.
“Alderwyn.”
“I know.”
“Samuel said it belongs under your protection.”
“That’s not the same as ownership.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You looked like you thought I might steal your dining room.”
Julian almost laughed.
“I was thinking my mother trusted a six-year-old more than she trusted half her family.”
Nora looked outside.
“She trusted my mother.”
“Yes.”
“And your father.”
“Adrian.”
“Yes.”
Julian appreciated that she did not say adoptive father.
She simply said father.
After a while Nora asked, “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
He looked at her.
She gave the faintest smile.
Then it disappeared.
“I’m sorry about what I remembered.”
“I’m not.”
She frowned.
“I needed to know.”
“Knowing hurts.”
“Not knowing shaped my entire life.”
Nora understood that.
They reached Stowe after dark.
Samuel Hart’s cottage stood beside a frozen stream even though spring had begun farther south.
The old gardener met them outside.
He was eighty-three.
Bent shoulders.
White hair.
Hands still thick from decades of work.
When he saw Nora, he cried.
She crossed the porch and hugged him.
“You got tall.”
She laughed through tears.
“It’s been eighteen years.”
“You still hate carrots?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Some things survive.”
Inside, Evelyn Wren waited.
Nora stopped in the doorway.
Evelyn was seventy-six.
Small.
Gray-haired.
A cane rested beside her chair.
She looked at Nora.
The years disappeared from her face.
“My girl.”
Nora could not move.
Evelyn stood despite difficulty.
Nora crossed the room.
They held each other for a long time.
Then Nora pulled away.
“You left me.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“I know.”
“You wrote one letter.”
“I know.”
“I needed you.”
Evelyn cried silently.
“I know.”
Nora stepped backward.
“Why?”
“Because Malcolm found me.”
Julian entered.
Evelyn looked at him.
Her face broke all over again.
“Helena’s eyes.”
Julian said nothing.
Evelyn sat.
The story came slowly.
After Helena fell, Evelyn struck Malcolm and escaped with Nora.
She returned because Helena was still alive.
Barely.
Evelyn found her in the lower garden.
“She was breathing,” Evelyn said.
Julian gripped the back of a chair.
“What?”
“She survived the fall?”
“For several minutes.”
Julian closed his eyes.
Nora touched his arm.
Evelyn continued.
Helena had broken multiple bones.
She knew she was dying.
She made Evelyn lean close.
“Take Nora away.”
Evelyn promised.
“Find Julian.”
Evelyn promised that too.
Then Helena said something unexpected.
“Do not let Malcolm become his father.”
Julian opened his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“She meant the person who shaped you.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“She knew Malcolm would raise you.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I tried.”
She explained.
She called the police from a pay phone.
Before officers arrived, Malcolm’s attorney contacted her.
He knew where Nora was.
He knew Evelyn’s daughter lived in Albany.
He knew the motel.
He said one sentence:
If you speak, the child joins Helena.
Evelyn believed him.
“Why not later?”
“Because Malcolm watched you constantly.”
“Me?”
“Nora.”
Nora stared.
“He knew where I was?”
“Always.”
“Then why leave me alive?”
Evelyn looked toward the locket.
“He didn’t know Helena had given you anything.”
“Until now.”
“Yes.”
Detective Ellis asked about Helena’s will.
Evelyn nodded.
“Clara Bennett was trustee. If Clara died before Helena, guardianship transferred to Clara’s lawful heir when that heir reached twenty-five.”
“Nora.”
“Yes.”
“What authority?”
“To audit the Hawthorne family trust and suspend any trustee suspected of fraud.”
Julian understood.
“Malcolm.”
“He spent eighteen years hoping the final will had been destroyed.”
“Where is it?”
Evelyn looked toward Samuel.
The old gardener brought a wooden box.
Inside was a sealed legal document.
Julian stared.
“You had it?”
Samuel nodded.
“Helena gave me instructions two months before she died.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because by the time you became an adult, Malcolm had convinced everyone Evelyn was unstable and Clara was a criminal.”
Nora frowned.
“A criminal?”
“He fabricated evidence that Clara stole company funds.”
“That’s why my aunt never talked about her work.”
“Yes.”
Samuel handed the will to Detective Ellis.
“Copies exist with a retired judge in Boston.”
“Name?”
“William Colter.”
Ellis nodded.
“We verify everything.”
Julian agreed.
Then Evelyn said, “There’s something else.”
She walked to a cabinet.
From the bottom drawer, she removed a photograph.
Three men stood outside Alderwyn’s stable eighteen years earlier.
Malcolm.
Richard Prescott.
And the same third man from Richard’s file.
Gavin Pike.
But there was a fourth person at the edge.
Younger.
Thin.
Wearing a groundskeeper’s jacket.
Nora stared.
“I know him.”
Julian looked.
“Who?”
“He lived in my apartment building.”
“When?”
“Growing up.”
“What was his name?”
“Thomas Gray.”
Evelyn looked confused.
“That isn’t Thomas Gray.”
“Then who is he?”
Evelyn sat down.
“That is Owen Mercer.”
Daniel, standing near the window, turned.
“My last name is Mercer.”
Everyone looked at him.
Evelyn studied Daniel.
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-nine.”
“Your father?”
“James Mercer. Died when I was twelve.”
Evelyn stared at the photograph.
“No.”
Daniel’s face changed.
“What?”
“That man was Helena’s private investigator.”
Daniel walked closer.
“What does that have to do with me?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“He disappeared the week Clara died.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“My father was a police officer in Hartford.”
“Perhaps after he changed his name.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
Nora touched the picture.
“Owen Mercer lived in my building?”
Samuel nodded.
“He was assigned to watch you.”
Nora stared.
“For Malcolm?”
“No.”
Evelyn looked at Julian.
“For Helena.”
Julian felt the pieces shifting again.
“Why?”
“Because Helena believed Malcolm would eventually look for Nora.”
Daniel stared at the photograph.
“My father knew all of this?”
“Maybe.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Evelyn’s eyes softened.
“People protecting children make terrible decisions and call them love.”
Daniel looked away.
His phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his face became stone.
“What?”
Julian asked.
Daniel put the call on speaker.
A Hawthorne security officer spoke from Connecticut.
“Sir, Alderwyn’s been breached.”
Julian stood.
“By who?”
“We don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“West wing.”
Nora’s stomach dropped.
“The ledger?”
“Still locked in evidence.”
“What did they take?”
The guard hesitated.
“Nothing.”
Julian frowned.
“Then why break in?”
“Because they left something.”
“What?”
The guard’s voice lowered.
“A coffin.”
Nobody in the Vermont cottage moved.
“A what?”
“Black coffin. In the middle of the ballroom.”
Julian felt cold.
“Is there a message?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
The guard read it.
HELENA WAS FIRST. CLARA WAS SECOND.
May you like
A pause.
NORA WILL BE THIRD.
