Chapter 4 - When Valerie Recognized Me
Darkness swallowed the room.
I heard Marcus move.
“Stay where you are.”
“Did the power go out?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“The furnace is still running.”
He was right.
Its mechanical hum continued beside us.
Someone had switched off the basement lights.
A floorboard creaked overhead.
Marcus whispered, “Someone’s in the house.”
My skin went cold.
“Valerie?”
“Maybe.”
He moved toward the stairs.
I followed.
“Stay here.”
“Absolutely not.”
Another sound.
A drawer closing.
Marcus climbed.
I remained two steps behind him.
At the kitchen doorway, we stopped.
Moonlight came through the windows.
A shadow crossed the foyer.
Marcus ran.
The front door slammed.
By the time we reached the porch, a car was disappearing around the corner.
“Was that Valerie?”
Marcus stared after it.
“No.”
“How can you know?”
“Wrong car.”
Back inside, the house had been searched.
Not robbed.
Searched.
Drawers opened.
Cabinets disturbed.
My laptop untouched.
Television untouched.
Jewelry untouched.
Whoever entered wanted something specific.
The compartment behind the furnace.
It had been empty before we opened it.
Or almost empty.
Only Valerie’s envelope remained.
“What used to be there?” I asked.
Marcus rubbed his jaw.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I faced him.
“You knew my father. Valerie called you. You arrived carrying a forged document. Now somebody breaks into my house looking for something Dad hid.”
Marcus nodded.
“That about covers it.”
“And you still won’t tell me what’s happening?”
“I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Start talking.”
Dad, he explained, had discovered financial irregularities years before his death.
Not at his hardware store.
At a property investment company where he had once been a silent partner.
The company purchased distressed homes, renovated them, and resold them.
One partner had been falsifying signatures and transferring properties through shell companies.
Dad wanted out.
“He kept records,” Marcus said.
“What kind?”
“Enough to make people nervous.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know everyone.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because inventing answers won’t help you.”
I hated that he was right.
“What does Valerie have to do with it?”
Marcus looked away.
“That’s what worries me.”
He explained that Dad had hired him years ago as a private security consultant after receiving threats.
“Why didn’t he tell us?”
“Because he thought keeping you ignorant kept you safe.”
“And did it?”
Marcus met my eyes.
“No.”
That answer made me trust him slightly more than I wanted to.
I looked at Valerie’s envelope.
“She knew about the compartment.”
“Yes.”
“So she took whatever Dad left.”
“Probably.”
“Then why leave me a note?”
Marcus frowned.
“To make sure you knew she had it.”
A threat.
Or an invitation.
My phone vibrated.
Valerie.
A text.
Come alone tomorrow. 9 a.m. You want the truth about Dad? I’ll give it to you.
Below it was an address.
I showed Marcus.
“No.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“She specifically said—”
“I can read.”
I stared at the message.
Six years earlier, Valerie had hugged me at the airport and cried.
She had promised to look after Mom.
I had believed her.
When had she become this person?
Or had she always been capable of it?
The next morning, I went to the address.
Marcus followed in another car despite my objections.
It was a storage facility south of Seattle.
Unit 314.
The door was open.
Valerie stood inside.
No floral dress now.
Jeans.
Black sweater.
Mom’s gold bracelet was gone.
On a table beside her sat a metal lockbox.
“You came.”
“You knew I would.”
She looked beyond me.
“Marcus followed you.”
“Probably.”
She sighed.
“I told you to come alone.”
“I stopped taking your instructions when I found Mom unconscious in a basement.”
Her face tightened.
“I didn’t hurt Mom.”
“You drugged her.”
“I kept her calm.”
“You put her beside a furnace.”
“I had tenants.”
I stared at her.
Even now, she could make cruelty sound like an inconvenience.
“What’s in the box?”
Valerie rested her hand on it.
“Dad’s insurance.”
“Against whom?”
“Everyone.”
“Open it.”
“No.”
“Then why bring me here?”
“Because I need something from you.”
I laughed once.
“You’re in no position to negotiate.”
She smiled.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
She pulled out a folder.
Inside was a copy of the property deed.
My name appeared on it.
So did Mom’s.
But there was another document.
A loan agreement.
For nearly eight hundred thousand dollars.
Borrower:
Chloe Mercer.
My signature appeared beneath it.
I had never seen the document in my life.
“What is this?”
“A debt.”
“It’s forged.”
“Maybe.”
“You forged it.”
“No.”
“Who did?”
She leaned closer.
“Dad.”
I stared at her.
“Our father died before this date.”
“I know.”
“Then stop playing games.”
“I’m not.”
She opened the metal box.
Inside were dozens of files.
Bank records.
Photographs.
USB drives.
And one sealed letter.
Dad’s handwriting covered the front.
For Chloe and Valerie — together.
My anger faltered.
Valerie looked at me.
“For once in your life, big sister, you don’t know everything.”
Then a vehicle stopped outside.
Marcus appeared at the entrance.
He saw the box.
His face drained of color.
“Close that.”
Valerie laughed.
“Too late.”
Marcus stepped inside.
“Where did you get it?”
“Mom.”
That surprised me.
“Mom gave you this?”
Valerie’s smile disappeared.
“She didn’t give it to me.”
A loud metallic crash came from somewhere outside the unit.
Marcus turned.
Another crash.
Closer.
Then the storage facility’s security lights went dark.
May you like
Valerie whispered:
“They found us.”
