Chapter 6 - Evelyn’s Missing Suitcase
By two in the morning, the story we thought we understood had collapsed again.
Victor Hale’s father had been named Samuel Hale.
Samuel had served as Gabriel Vale’s closest adviser for nearly thirty years.
When Cassian’s mother died, Samuel became the adult who supervised Cassian whenever Gabriel traveled.
When Daniel Carter died, Samuel handled the internal investigation.
When Gabriel Vale died nine years later in another warehouse fire, Samuel signed the report calling it an electrical accident.
And when Samuel died three years after that, his son Victor inherited his position beside Cassian.
“Three generations,” Rebecca said as we stood inside the old warehouse office.
“Aldridge, Hale, Vale.”
Cassian stared through the broken window.
“And Carter.”
I looked at him.
“We weren’t part of their world.”
“You were.”
“My father kept books.”
“He knew where every body was buried.”
Rebecca gave Cassian a look.
“Metaphorically?”
He considered.
“Mostly.”
I decided not to ask.
The key from the envelope fit nothing in the warehouse.
Not the office.
Not the storage lockers.
Not the old desks.
We left shortly before dawn.
Evelyn was waiting at the hospital.
Her face was pale.
“My suitcase is gone.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“The second suitcase.”
“You had two.”
“I left with two. When I came back to the estate, only one was in the trunk.”
Mara appeared behind her.
“You never told me.”
“I thought I had left it at the motel.”
“What was inside?”
Evelyn looked toward Cassian.
“A file from my father’s study.”
He went still.
“You took records?”
“I took everything that mentioned Lydia.”
My throat tightened.
“What exactly?”
“Old bank statements. Medical payments. Property documents.”
She hesitated.
“And letters.”
“What letters?”
“From Daniel Carter.”
My heart stopped.
“You had letters from my father?”
“My grandfather kept them.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“How many?”
“Maybe twenty.”
I took one step closer.
“You had twenty letters written by my dead father and you put them in a suitcase?”
Evelyn flinched.
“I was trying to save them.”
Anger rose in me.
It wasn’t fair.
I knew that.
But grief rarely cares about fairness.
“Where is the suitcase?”
“I don’t know.”
Cassian interrupted before I could say something cruel.
“When did you last see it?”
“At the motel.”
“Who knew you were there?”
“Mara.”
Mara nodded.
“And one other person.”
Everyone looked at Evelyn.
She swallowed.
“Victor.”
Cassian’s voice became deadly calm.
“You contacted him?”
“I didn’t know.”
“After you overheard him plotting with your father?”
“I panicked.”
She began crying.
“I thought he could help me disappear because he had always helped our family.”
Mara muttered something under her breath.
Cassian closed his eyes.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I had documents.”
“And your location?”
“Yes.”
Cassian turned away.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then he looked at Rebecca.
“Victor has the suitcase.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Probably.”
I crossed my arms.
“Why hasn’t he destroyed it?”
Cassian looked at me.
“Because if Daniel’s letters contain information Victor needs, he’ll read them first.”
“He’s had hours.”
“Yes.”
“Then they’re already gone.”
“Maybe.”
I hated that word.
Maybe.
My entire life had become a collection of maybes.
Maybe my father had been murdered.
Maybe my mother’s illness had been deliberately worsened.
Maybe the Aldridges had stolen millions.
Maybe the most dangerous man I had ever met was the only person currently telling me the truth.
I sat beside my mother’s bed.
She was sleeping.
Cassian remained near the door.
“You can leave,” I said.
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“You keep telling me to leave.”
“Most people would understand the hint.”
“I’m not most people.”
“No. Most people don’t have six ex-wives.”
He looked almost offended.
“Five ex-wives.”
“Mara still legally married to you?”
“For another forty-eight hours.”
I stared.
“You never finalized the divorce?”
“Her attorney filed incorrectly.”
“That sounds suspiciously convenient.”
“She remarried emotionally years ago.”
“What does that mean?”
“She has been living with a pastry chef in Vermont.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
In a hospital room.
At five in the morning.
Cassian looked at me as though I had surprised him.
“What?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“You’re less frightening when discussing pastry chefs.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Silence returned.
I watched my mother sleep.
Then said quietly, “Why did your father die?”
Cassian took a long time to answer.
“He had started investigating Daniel’s death again.”
I looked over.
“How do you know?”
“I found notes after he died.”
“Why didn’t you continue?”
His face hardened.
“Samuel Hale told me my father had become paranoid.”
“And you believed him.”
“I was twenty-nine, running an organization that was splitting apart, dealing with a federal investigation and three families trying to take my territory.”
“Poor crime boss.”
He surprised me with a faint smile.
“Exactly.”
“But you believed Samuel.”
“Yes.”
“And afterward Victor became your adviser.”
“Yes.”
“Cassian.”
“I know.”
“You might be terrible at judging people.”
“That possibility has occurred to me.”
I looked back at my mother.
“Do you trust anyone?”
His answer was immediate.
“No.”
“That sounds lonely.”
He didn’t respond.
Around seven, my mother woke.
The first thing she asked was whether I had eaten.
Classic Helen Carter.
Nearly had a heart attack.
Worried about breakfast.
Evelyn brought coffee and toast.
My mother stared at her.
“You’re Margaret’s daughter.”
Evelyn looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
“You look like her.”
“I’m sorry.”
My mother laughed.
“Good answer.”
Then she saw Cassian.
Her expression changed.
“You stayed.”
He nodded.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
My mother glanced at me.
I pretended not to notice.
Then Helen saw the key on the bedside table.
Her face changed instantly.
“Where did you get that?”
I picked it up.
“At the warehouse.”
“Daniel’s key.”
“You recognize it?”
She nodded.
“He wore it around his neck.”
“What does it open?”
My mother stared at it.
Then whispered, “The station locker.”
“What station?”
“Grand Central.”
Cassian stepped closer.
“Number?”
“I don’t remember.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Daniel used to joke that if we ever became rich, he’d hide our fortune beneath the stars.”
Evelyn frowned.
“What does that mean?”
I knew.
“The ceiling.”
Grand Central’s celestial ceiling.
My mother opened her eyes.
“He said forty-three.”
Cassian was already calling Rebecca.
Three hours later, we stood inside Grand Central Terminal.
Locker 43 had been removed years earlier.
But records showed its contents had been transferred to long-term storage after unpaid rental fees.
A supervisor brought us a dusty metal box.
The key fit.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Old account ledgers.
A small jewelry case.
And another cassette.
But the first thing I saw was a bundle of letters tied with blue ribbon.
Daniel Carter’s handwriting.
My father’s voice preserved in ink.
I touched them.
Then I noticed one envelope was different.
Newer.
Typed.
Addressed to me.
LYDIA CARTER.
Cassian saw the date.
His face changed.
I followed his gaze.
The letter had been written three weeks ago.
My father had been dead twenty-one years.
I opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
YOUR FATHER ISN’T THE ONLY CARTER WHO KNOWS THE TRUTH.
At the bottom was an address.
Evelyn stared.
“That’s where I was supposed to go.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“The morning I ran.”
She swallowed.
“I didn’t run because I was afraid to marry Cassian.”
Cassian’s eyes narrowed.
Evelyn pointed to the address.
May you like
“I ran because someone told me Daniel Carter was still alive.”
---
