Chapter 10 - Someone Was Listening Behind the Walls
Gabriel wanted to call the police.
Claire stopped him.
Not because she trusted him.
Because she remembered the sheriff standing motionless at the lake.
“We don’t know who Hartwell owns.”
“We cannot pursue an abduction with two people.”
“We have Victoria.”
“She’s missing too.”
Claire stared.
“What?”
Gabriel checked the dining room feed from his recovered system.
While Claire and Gabriel were in the medical wing, Victoria had left through a side corridor.
Voluntarily.
No one dragged her.
No weapon visible.
She simply disappeared.
Claire watched the footage twice.
“She knew where she was going.”
“Looks like it.”
“Or somebody told her.”
Gabriel nodded.
Claire called Victoria.
No response.
Then she called the number Eleanor used.
Disconnected.
“We go to Warehouse 17.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“It could be bait.”
“It is bait.”
“And you still want to go?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been around Julian too long.”
Claire almost laughed.
They took an unmarked vehicle.
Gabriel contacted only two people he claimed to trust.
One was retired FBI investigator Marcus Bell.
The other was a woman named Sonia Reyes, who had worked with Andrew.
Claire stared when she heard the name.
“Another person who knew my brother?”
“Yes.”
“How many are you planning to reveal before morning?”
Gabriel gripped the wheel.
“Hopefully no more.”
Warehouse 17 stood forty minutes from Bellweather beside an abandoned freight spur.
Parts of the structure were blackened from fire.
The photograph of Andrew had been carefully framed to hide the damage.
Gabriel noticed.
“Photo was taken today on the north side.”
“So he was here.”
“At least briefly.”
They parked half a mile away.
Marcus and Sonia met them near the tracks.
Sonia was fifty, compact, gray-haired, and visibly unimpressed by Gabriel.
She looked at Claire.
“You have Andrew’s eyes.”
Claire had no idea what to say.
“You knew him.”
“He saved my career.”
“Is he alive?”
Sonia’s expression softened.
“I don’t know.”
Claire showed her the video.
Sonia watched.
“That’s him.”
“Could it be old?”
“Not with that scar.”
“What scar?”
Sonia pointed toward Andrew’s temple.
A thin mark.
“He didn’t have it before he disappeared.”
Claire’s hope became painful.
He was alive recently.
They approached the warehouse.
No guards.
No vehicles.
The side door stood open.
Inside, blackened beams framed an empty floor.
Julian’s wheelchair sat in the middle.
Empty.
Claire ran toward it.
“Julian!”
No answer.
A speaker crackled.
Then Andrew’s voice.
“Claire.”
She froze.
“Andrew?”
“Don’t move.”
Tears filled her eyes immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Look at the floor.”
A thin red beam crossed the concrete near her shoe.
Gabriel stopped.
“Trip sensor.”
Andrew’s voice continued.
“The building is wired to lock the exits if anyone crosses the inner perimeter.”
Claire looked around wildly.
“Where are you?”
“I can see you.”
“Then come out.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Silence.
“Andrew.”
“I’m sorry.”
Claire’s voice cracked.
“For what?”
“For bringing you into this.”
“You didn’t. I came looking.”
“I knew you would.”
“Where is Julian?”
“Alive.”
“Where?”
“With Hartwell.”
“Why?”
“Because Hartwell believes Julian knows where Matteo hid the master ledger.”
Claire looked at Gabriel.
“The ledger?”
Sonia whispered, “Original accounts.”
Andrew continued.
“It proves everything. Bribes. shell companies. judges. contractors. medical payments.”
“Medical?”
Claire looked toward Julian’s empty chair.
“Yes,” Andrew said.
“Hartwell used rehabilitation contracts to move money. He also controlled Julian’s medical records.”
“Did he cause the crash?”
“No.”
Claire froze.
“Then who did?”
“Claire, listen carefully. Hartwell is dangerous, but he is not the architect.”
“Who is?”
Static swallowed part of the response.
“…inside Bellweather before Matteo bought it.”
“What?”
“The system predates the family.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What system?”
Andrew continued.
“Matteo inherited relationships from the previous owner. Hartwell connected them. Victoria exploited them. But the person who controls everything is someone Julian would never suspect.”
“Name.”
Static.
“Andrew!”
A different voice came through the speaker.
Male.
Older.
Doctor Hartwell.
“Your brother always did talk too much.”
Claire’s fists clenched.
“Where is he?”
“Closer than you think.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
Gabriel shook his head.
Claire ignored him.
“Why?”
“Because Andrew never trusted Julian enough to give him the final key.”
Claire touched the brass key in her pocket.
“You mean the vault.”
“That was one.”
“How many?”
Hartwell laughed.
“Ask your brother.”
Andrew shouted faintly in the background.
“Claire, don’t—”
The audio cut.
A phone rang on Julian’s empty wheelchair.
Claire moved toward it.
Gabriel stopped her.
“Sensor.”
Sonia crouched.
“Wait.”
She examined the red beam.
Then stepped carefully around it.
She retrieved the phone.
Claire answered.
Hartwell again.
“Bring the black notebook to the old boathouse at 4:00 a.m.”
Claire checked the time.
2:18.
“And Julian?”
“You’ll see him.”
“Andrew?”
“You’ll see him too.”
“If they’re hurt—”
“Claire.”
Hartwell’s voice became almost gentle.
“Everyone in this story is hurt.”
The call ended.
Gabriel immediately said, “You’re not going.”
Claire took the phone from Sonia.
“Yes, I am.”
“We make a copy of the notebook.”
“Hartwell will know.”
“Maybe.”
“He knew about the key.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What?”
Claire realized something.
She had never told Hartwell about the brass key.
She had only shown it in the vault.
Meaning someone had been listening.
Inside Bellweather.
Before the blackout.
Claire looked at Gabriel.
“Your secure rooms aren’t secure.”
He understood.
“The walls.”
Sonia looked confused.
“What?”
“The house renovation,” Gabriel said slowly. “Hartwell supervised Julian’s accessible modifications after the crash.”
Ramps.
Elevators.
Medical equipment.
Wall systems.
Thousands of opportunities to install microphones.
Claire remembered private conversations.
Every plan.
Every accusation.
Every secret.
Hartwell had known all of them.
Perhaps that explained why their enemies always stayed ahead.
But there was one conversation Hartwell could not have heard.
The one beneath Lake Bellweather.
Claire looked at Julian’s empty chair.
Underwater, Julian had pointed toward his trapped jacket.
No words.
No microphones.
Only Claire had understood.
An idea formed.
“What?” Gabriel asked.
Claire looked at him.
“Hartwell listens.”
“Yes.”
“Then we stop talking.”
She opened Andrew’s notebook.
Near the back was a page full of meaningless numbers.
Claire had assumed they were transactions.
Now she noticed something different.
Every seventh number was circled faintly.
Coordinates.
Sonia leaned closer.
“That isn’t finance.”
Claire entered them into her phone.
A location appeared.
Not the boathouse.
Not Bellweather.
A tiny island in the center of the lake.
Gabriel whispered, “Vescari Island.”
Claire looked at him.
“What’s there?”
“Nothing.”
Sonia corrected him.
“Not nothing.”
She looked at Claire.
“Matteo built a private chapel there twenty years ago.”
Claire remembered the cassette.
Matteo hiding information.
Andrew’s phrase.
The lake remembers what people bury.
Maybe Andrew had never been talking about bodies.
Maybe he meant secrets.
Claire closed the notebook.
Hartwell expected her at the boathouse.
May you like
Which meant, for the first time, Claire knew where she needed to go before he did.
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