Chapter 3 - The Man Roman Trusted Most
Roman stared at the photograph until Claire’s handwriting blurred.
If I’m dead, ask him why.
Beside him, Josephine said nothing.
She knew better.
Some truths needed silence before they could be survived.
Roman had known Vincent Hale longer than either of his sons could remember.
Vincent had stood beside him during wars with rival families, federal investigations, betrayals and funerals.
When Claire died, Vincent was the man who identified weaknesses in the estate and rebuilt Roman’s security system from the ground up.
He had taught Oliver how to ride a bicycle.
He bought Finn a telescope for his sixth birthday.
He was in almost every family photograph taken during the last four years.
Roman looked down at Claire’s picture.
“Maybe she suspected him.”
Josephine nodded carefully.
“That’s possible.”
“You don’t believe it.”
“I believe Claire wrote that sentence for a reason.”
Roman turned toward her.
“You keep talking about my wife like you knew her better than I did.”
“I didn’t.”
“It sounds like you did.”
Josephine’s expression softened.
“She loved you.”
Roman looked away.
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“She talked about you.”
“When?”
“During the investigation.”
“What did she say?”
Josephine hesitated.
Roman almost told her to forget it.
Instead she said, “She said you believed love meant making yourself impossible to lose.”
The words hit him unexpectedly.
Josephine continued.
“She said you thought if you were powerful enough, careful enough, feared enough, nothing could touch your family.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“She also said she knew that wasn’t how life worked.”
He stared at the stuffed lion.
“She was right.”
Josephine looked at him.
“She didn’t blame you.”
Roman laughed once, without humor.
“I blamed me enough for both of us.”
A faint sound came from the hallway.
Josephine’s head turned instantly.
Roman noticed.
“What?”
“Someone moved outside.”
He crossed to the attic door and opened it.
Empty hallway.
Nothing.
But downstairs, Vincent had already left the surveillance room.
He met them halfway down the staircase.
“Roman.”
Roman stopped.
Vincent’s eyes moved briefly toward the stuffed lion in Roman’s hand.
Too briefly.
Roman noticed.
“So,” Roman said casually, “you remember this?”
Vincent frowned.
“Oliver’s old toy?”
“You remember everything.”
“I remember the kid carrying that thing for six months.”
Roman smiled faintly.
Josephine watched both men.
Vincent looked at her bandaged arm.
“You should be resting.”
“I’m fine.”
His gaze lingered.
Josephine’s posture tightened.
Roman saw it.
“How do you two know each other?”
Vincent’s expression did not change.
“We don’t.”
Josephine answered at the same time.
“Blackridge.”
Silence.
Vincent slowly looked at her.
Roman almost admired how quickly his old friend recovered.
“That was a long time ago.”
“You never told me,” Roman said.
“You never asked.”
“Eleven years and you never thought to mention you worked for an intelligence contractor my wife secretly hired?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“I left Blackridge before Claire contacted them.”
“When?”
“Thirteen years ago.”
Josephine interrupted.
“That’s not true.”
Vincent looked at her.
Roman’s eyes hardened.
Josephine continued.
“Your file remained active until nine years ago.”
Vincent’s voice became cold.
“You saw my file?”
“I saw enough.”
“You were an analyst.”
“I was better at my job than you assumed.”
Roman stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Neither moved.
Roman pulled Claire’s photograph from his pocket.
Vincent looked at it.
This time he could not hide the reaction.
His face lost color.
Roman’s chest tightened.
“You remember that day.”
Vincent nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why were you meeting Claire secretly?”
Vincent looked toward Josephine.
“Because she asked me to.”
“Why?”
Vincent exhaled.
“To investigate Blackridge.”
Roman frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if Claire didn’t trust the team assigned to her.”
Josephine shook her head.
“She never mentioned you.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I told her not to.”
Roman looked between them.
“Start talking.”
Vincent’s shoulders dropped.
For the first time in years, he looked tired.
“Claire came to me about two months before the attack. She believed someone was tracking your business movements. Meetings that only a handful of people knew about were being compromised.”
“I remember.”
“You assumed rival surveillance.”
“Yes.”
“She didn’t.”
Vincent looked at the photograph.
“She believed somebody close to you had access to internal communications.”
“Who?”
“She didn’t know.”
“Then why write this?”
Roman showed him the message.
Vincent read it.
Pain crossed his face.
“Because I failed her.”
Roman became very still.
“How?”
“She asked me to meet her the morning she died.”
“Where?”
“Union Station.”
“For what?”
“She said she had evidence.”
Roman’s hands curled.
“And?”
“I didn’t go.”
“Why?”
Vincent stared at him.
“Because somebody sent me a message saying Oliver had been taken from preschool.”
Roman’s blood ran cold.
“What?”
“It was false. By the time I verified Oliver was safe, Claire had already left.”
“And an hour later she was attacked.”
“Yes.”
Roman stepped close enough that their faces were inches apart.
“You never told me this.”
“I thought whoever sent the message was watching me.”
“You let me spend four years believing Claire died because of me.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“She died because somebody betrayed all of us.”
“You kept information from me.”
“To keep you alive.”
“That was not your decision.”
“No,” Vincent said. “It was hers.”
Roman froze.
Vincent reached slowly inside his jacket.
Roman’s hand moved toward his weapon.
Vincent stopped.
“Inside pocket. Envelope.”
Roman removed it himself.
A yellowed envelope.
On the front was Roman’s name.
Claire’s handwriting.
His heart nearly stopped.
“You’ve had this for four years?”
“Yes.”
Roman grabbed Vincent by the jacket.
“You had a letter from my dead wife for four years?”
“She told me not to give it to you unless somebody came for Oliver.”
Roman could barely speak.
“They came tonight.”
“Yes.”
Roman released him.
His fingers shook slightly as he opened the envelope.
Inside was a single sheet.
Roman,
If Vincent gives you this, then I failed to stop what I found. You are going to want someone to blame. You will want to blame yourself first. Don’t.
Roman stopped reading.
Josephine looked away to give him privacy.
He continued.
The person betraying us is not doing it for money. That is what makes him dangerous. He believes destroying you is justice.
The evidence is separated. Oliver has the first key. The second belongs to someone who believes she failed me. When those two pieces meet, they will lead you to the truth.
Roman looked at Josephine.
She had gone pale.
“The second belongs to someone who believes she failed me.”
Josephine whispered, “Me.”
Vincent nodded.
“What did Claire give you?”
“Nothing.”
“Think.”
Josephine’s eyes filled with confusion.
“She gave me a necklace.”
Roman waited.
Josephine touched the base of her throat unconsciously.
But she was not wearing one.
“Where is it?”
“I stopped wearing it years ago.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
Roman was already moving.
Vincent stopped him.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.”
Roman turned.
“My wife left a clue.”
“And someone breached your fortress two hours ago.”
“Then send men.”
Josephine shook her head.
“No.”
Both men looked at her.
“If the traitor has access to Roman’s security, sending his people announces exactly where we are going.”
Vincent stared at her.
She was right.
Roman made the decision.
“Just us.”
Vincent objected.
“No.”
“You said you want me alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it.”
Forty minutes later, Roman and Josephine entered her apartment in Arlington through the parking garage.
The apartment was small.
Warm.
Books everywhere.
Nothing like the mansion.
Roman noticed a photograph on the refrigerator.
Claire.
Josephine immediately removed it.
“You kept her picture.”
“She was my friend.”
The admission made Roman pause.
Josephine walked into the bedroom and opened a jewelry box.
She searched.
Stopped.
Searched again.
“It’s gone.”
Roman’s expression sharpened.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The bedroom closet door stood slightly open.
Josephine approached slowly.
Roman drew his weapon.
He pulled the door open.
Empty.
Then Josephine noticed something lying on the floor.
Her old necklace.
The chain had been cut.
The pendant was missing.
Roman crouched.
“Someone got here first.”
Josephine stared at the broken chain.
“No.”
“What?”
“The pendant wasn’t valuable.”
“Then they knew.”
“Knew what?”
Josephine sat on the edge of the bed.
Her face changed.
“The pendant opened.”
Roman turned.
“What was inside?”
“I never checked.”
Roman stared at her in disbelief.
“Claire told me it was a Saint Christopher medal. I thought…”
Her voice faded.
Roman noticed a framed photograph on the wall hanging crooked.
He moved it.
Behind it was a small hole drilled into the plaster.
A hidden camera had been removed.
Josephine’s face drained.
“They’ve been watching me.”
Roman’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Oliver and Finn.
Sleeping in Roman’s bedroom.
Taken minutes ago.
Roman’s blood turned to ice.
Then a message arrived.
YOU FOUND THE FIRST KEY.
Another message.
WE FOUND THE SECOND.
Roman was already calling Vincent.
No answer.
He called security.
Nothing.
The third message appeared.
COME HOME, ROMAN.
Then the final line.
May you like
YOUR SONS ARE NOT ALONE.
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