Chapter 9 - THE HOUSE OF FIRE
They returned to Connecticut before sunrise.
The coffin was still in the ballroom.
Detective Ellis had ordered nobody to touch it until the bomb squad cleared it.
It contained no body.
Only ash.
And Nora’s employee photograph.
Camille had left Alderwyn before midnight with her father’s attorneys.
Richard remained under subpoena.
Malcolm was still missing.
Gavin Pike had disappeared from the hospital.
Two officers had been stationed outside his room.
Neither saw him leave.
Julian stood beside the coffin.
“This isn’t Malcolm.”
Nora looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“He threatens privately.”
“You’ve known him as your uncle, not a murderer.”
“Exactly. And every threat he’s made so far had a purpose. Burn the trunk. Recover the evidence. Silence you.”
He pointed toward the coffin.
“This is spectacle.”
Daniel nodded.
“Someone wants fear.”
Nora stared at her photograph.
“It’s working.”
Julian looked at her.
“You can leave.”
She laughed.
“Where?”
“I can put you anywhere.”
“That’s exactly what Malcolm has done for eighteen years. Decided where I was allowed to exist.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“And I’m telling you I’m staying.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
She stepped closer.
“Stop treating me like the six-year-old girl on that balcony.”
He looked at the welt fading across her face.
“What should I treat you like?”
“The woman who came back.”
He nodded.
“All right.”
That afternoon, forensic technicians restored part of Helena’s memory card.
Not video.
Audio.
Julian, Nora, Ellis, and Daniel listened inside the library.
Static filled the speakers.
Then Helena’s voice.
Clara is dead.
Malcolm answered.
An unfortunate accident.
Her brake line was cut.
Silence.
Then Richard Prescott:
Malcolm, tell her.
Malcolm:
Tell her what?
Richard:
That Pike acted without instructions.
Nora stopped breathing.
Julian looked at Ellis.
The recording continued.
Helena:
Gavin Pike killed Clara?
Malcolm:
Gavin solved a problem.
Nora stood so quickly her chair struck the floor.
“That’s enough.”
She walked out.
Julian followed.
He found her in the winter garden.
Same place Helena had photographed them.
Nora stood beneath dead vines, gripping the locket.
“I spent years wondering if she was scared.”
Julian said nothing.
“When her car went through the barrier.”
She wiped her face.
“I used to imagine she fell asleep peacefully.”
Julian stepped beside her.
“She knew you loved her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Nora looked at him.
“My mother knew I loved her too.”
The shared grief stood between them.
Different women.
Different deaths.
Same men.
Julian said, “We finish this.”
Nora nodded.
Then smelled smoke.
At first she thought memory was playing tricks.
Then Julian turned.
“You smell that?”
Fire exploded through the corridor.
A wall of flame rolled across the doorway.
Julian grabbed Nora and pulled her back.
“Daniel!”
No answer.
The fire alarm did not sound.
Again.
Nora stared at the flames.
“They disabled it.”
Smoke filled the ceiling.
Julian pulled out his phone.
No signal.
“Jammer.”
Glass shattered somewhere nearby.
They moved toward the winter garden doors.
Locked.
Julian rammed one.
Nothing.
“Someone sealed them.”
Nora coughed.
“Servants’ stairs.”
“Where?”
She remembered.
Eighteen years earlier.
Evelyn running.
A narrow passage behind the garden fountain.
“There.”
They crossed through thickening smoke.
Nora pushed against a carved stone panel.
Nothing.
“Come on.”
Her childhood hand had been smaller.
She remembered pressing a flower.
Julian saw it.
A carved rose.
He pushed.
The wall clicked open.
Cool darkness waited beyond.
They entered.
Julian closed the panel behind them.
The passage was narrow.
Old stone.
No electricity.
Nora used her phone flashlight.
“Where does it go?”
“Kitchen basement. I think.”
They moved quickly.
Behind them something crashed.
The fire roared.
Halfway down the passage, Nora stopped.
A doorway appeared on the left.
“That wasn’t here.”
Julian examined it.
Old iron lock.
Recently cut.
Inside was a small room.
Boxes.
A desk.
Modern surveillance monitors.
Julian stared.
Someone had been watching Alderwyn from inside its walls.
Screens showed bedrooms.
Hallways.
The ballroom.
His private office.
Nora whispered, “Malcolm.”
Julian opened drawers.
Photographs filled one.
Julian at sixteen.
Twenty.
Twenty-five.
Nora at ten.
Fourteen.
College graduation.
Working in Philadelphia.
Her apartment.
Her aunt’s funeral.
Nora backed away.
“He watched me my whole life.”
Julian’s hands curled.
Another folder contained Camille.
Photographs.
Bank records.
Text-message printouts.
“Malcolm watched her too.”
Nora pointed toward a wall.
A large map showed Hawthorne properties.
Prescott properties.
Political offices.
Banks.
Red lines connected all of them.
At the center was one name.
THE ALDER GROUP.
Julian frowned.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Nora searched the desk.
She found a flash drive.
Then footsteps sounded in the passage.
Julian turned off the light.
Someone approached.
A flashlight beam appeared.
Nora held her breath.
A man entered.
Gavin Pike.
His head wound was bandaged.
He held a gun.
Julian lunged before Pike saw them.
They hit the desk.
The gun fired into the ceiling.
Nora grabbed a metal lamp and struck Pike’s wrist.
The weapon fell.
Pike punched Julian.
Julian crashed into the monitors.
Nora reached for the gun.
Pike kicked it away.
“You should have stayed gone,” he told her.
Nora froze.
“That was you.”
He smiled.
“My apartment.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
“Orders.”
“Whose?”
Pike looked toward Julian.
“You still think Malcolm runs this?”
Julian punched him.
Pike fell.
Nora grabbed the gun.
She pointed it at him.
Pike laughed.
“Can you do it?”
She tightened both hands around the grip.
Julian looked at her.
“Nora.”
Pike smiled.
“He killed your mother. Malcolm killed his. Everyone wins if you pull that trigger.”
Nora’s finger rested near the trigger.
Pike whispered, “Do it.”
Nora lowered the gun.
“No.”
Pike’s smile vanished.
“You don’t get to choose who I become.”
Daniel appeared in the passage with police behind him.
He tackled Pike and handcuffed him.
Julian leaned against the desk.
“What happened?”
Daniel coughed.
“Fire started in three places. Someone locked staff inside the service wing. We got them out.”
“Casualties?”
“Two smoke inhalation. No deaths.”
Nora held up the flash drive.
“We found this.”
Pike started laughing again.
Ellis entered.
“What’s funny?”
Pike looked at the drive.
“You found Malcolm’s insurance policy.”
“What’s on it?”
He smiled.
“Everything.”
Back in the courtyard, firefighters battled the west-wing blaze.
Alderwyn’s roof glowed orange against the night.
Nora watched Helena’s rooms burn.
Julian stood beside her.
Detective Ellis connected the flash drive to an isolated laptop.
Folders appeared.
Payments.
Blackmail.
Judges.
Senators.
Police officers.
Corporate executives.
Then one folder.
HELENA — FINAL NIGHT.
Video.
The surveillance footage was grainy but clear enough.
The balcony.
Helena.
Malcolm.
Richard.
Six-year-old Nora.
Julian closed his eyes briefly.
“Play it.”
They watched Malcolm hold Nora over the railing.
Watched Helena save her.
Watched Helena fall.
Watched Malcolm peel her fingers from stone.
Richard stood three feet away.
Then something happened Nora did not remember.
After Helena disappeared from view, Richard turned toward Malcolm.
“You murdered her.”
Malcolm replied:
“No.”
He looked directly toward a hidden camera.
“We murdered her.”
Richard backed away.
Then another man stepped from the shadows.
Older.
Elegant.
Wearing a dark overcoat.
Nora had never seen him.
Julian had.
His face went white.
“What?”
Nora asked.
Julian could barely speak.
“That’s Senator Charles Vane.”
The current chairman of the Senate Finance Committee.
The man had attended Julian’s engagement celebration.
He had stood beneath the chandelier while Camille raised the riding crop.
He had watched Nora bleed.
In the recording, Vane looked down toward Helena’s body.
Then at Malcolm.
“Clean this up.”
Pike, handcuffed nearby, laughed softly.
Julian looked at him.
“What?”
May you like
Pike’s smile disappeared.
“That’s the man Malcolm answers to.”
