Chapter 14 - The Trap at Bellweather
They returned to Bellweather before sunset.
Federal agents arrived first.
Margaret Cole refused to speak after requesting an attorney.
Samuel Cole remained in custody.
Hartwell still had Andrew.
Claire cared about nothing else.
Plans of the original estate revealed service tunnels beneath the lakeside terrace.
Most had been sealed decades earlier.
One remained accessible through an old pump room.
Agents entered from the house.
Claire waited despite hating every second.
Julian sat beside her.
“You don’t have to pretend you’re calm.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“How?”
“Your left hand.”
Claire realized she was squeezing her fingers until the knuckles whitened.
Andrew used to notice that too.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
An agent returned.
“Tunnels are empty.”
Claire stood.
“No.”
“We found signs someone was there recently.”
“Andrew?”
“Blood sample. Small amount.”
Claire’s stomach twisted.
“No one there now.”
“What about the archive?”
“Nothing.”
Claire looked toward the lake.
Hartwell had moved Andrew.
Why tell Margaret he was beneath Bellweather?
Maybe because at the time he was.
Or because Hartwell wanted them searching underground.
Claire walked toward the terrace.
The repaired area where Julian’s wheelchair had fallen remained taped off.
She stared at the stone edge.
Under the place where you first saved Julian.
Not under the terrace.
Under the place.
The lake itself.
Claire remembered Andrew’s phrase again.
The lake remembers what people bury.
She walked down the stone steps.
Gabriel called after her.
“Claire?”
She stepped into the water.
Cold.
Not like Sunday.
She wore jeans now.
The water reached her knees.
Then waist.
Julian moved to the edge.
“What are you doing?”
Claire looked toward the underwater slope.
“The wheelchair landed on the bottom.”
“Yes.”
“Your jacket caught on the frame.”
“Yes.”
“If Robert wanted to hide something where only someone familiar with the lake could find it…”
She took a breath.
Then dove.
The underwater wall descended steeply.
Claire moved toward the place where Julian had landed.
The wheelchair was gone.
But embedded in the stone was an old iron pipe.
Water line.
Claire followed it.
Ten feet farther, the pipe entered a rectangular concrete housing.
She touched it.
A metal plate moved.
Behind it was a waterproof compartment.
Empty.
Someone had already opened it.
Claire surfaced.
“They found it!”
Gabriel helped her up.
“What?”
“The compartment is empty.”
Julian’s expression hardened.
“Hartwell.”
Claire shook water from her hair.
“Maybe.”
An agent approached.
“We located a vehicle associated with Hartwell.”
“Where?”
“North service road.”
“Occupants?”
“Empty.”
Claire’s phone rang.
Andrew.
She answered immediately.
“Andrew?”
This time Hartwell spoke.
“You keep being faster than expected.”
“Where is he?”
“Beside me.”
“Let me hear him.”
A pause.
Then:
“Claire.”
Her knees nearly gave out.
“I’m here.”
“I’m okay.”
She heard pain in his voice but also strength.
Hartwell returned.
“You found Robert’s compartment.”
“Yes.”
“Empty?”
“Yes.”
“Then your father was smarter than all of us.”
“What do you want?”
“You know.”
“I don’t have the archive.”
“But you can find it.”
“How?”
“Andrew believes Robert gave you the final clue.”
“I was a child.”
“Memory is strange.”
Hartwell paused.
“Come to the north greenhouse.”
Gabriel immediately shook his head.
Claire ignored him.
“Alone?”
“Of course.”
“If I do, Andrew leaves.”
“He will.”
“Swear.”
Hartwell laughed.
“I’m a doctor, Claire, not a priest.”
The line disconnected.
Julian said, “No.”
Claire turned.
“He has my brother.”
“That is why you don’t go alone.”
“He will see security.”
“So we don’t use security.”
“Julian—”
“I’m coming.”
She almost laughed.
“You’re the second person he wants dead.”
“Apparently I’m not the target.”
“He tried to drown you.”
“And you saved me.”
“That isn’t a strategy.”
“It worked once.”
Despite everything, Claire smiled.
Only slightly.
They compromised.
Claire approached the greenhouse alone.
Julian remained hidden inside an estate utility vehicle seventy yards away.
Gabriel and agents watched farther out.
The greenhouse had been abandoned for years.
Glass panels cracked.
Vines overtook the interior.
Claire entered.
Andrew sat in a chair.
Hands bound.
He looked thinner than the video.
A bruise darkened one cheek.
But alive.
Claire stopped.
“Andrew.”
His eyes filled.
“Hey, kid.”
She nearly ran to him.
Hartwell stepped from behind a row of dead plants.
“Stay.”
Claire froze.
He held no weapon.
That made her more nervous.
“Let him go.”
“After we talk.”
“You tried to kill Julian.”
Hartwell shrugged.
“I followed instructions.”
“Cole?”
“At first.”
“And now?”
“My own survival.”
Claire moved slightly closer.
“You know Cole will blame you.”
“He already has.”
“So help us.”
Hartwell smiled sadly.
“I’m beyond help.”
Andrew looked at Claire.
His eyes shifted toward the ceiling.
Once.
Twice.
Claire followed without moving her head.
A cable.
Suspended above.
Attached to greenhouse irrigation tanks.
Hartwell had prepared something.
Chemical?
Gas?
Water?
Andrew began speaking quickly.
“Claire, Dad used to take us fishing.”
“I remember.”
“Where?”
“Lake Mason.”
“No.”
He stared at her.
Claire understood.
This was not nostalgia.
It was a clue.
“Bellweather?”
Andrew nodded slightly.
Claire suddenly remembered.
She had been seven.
Their father brought them to a lake one evening.
She had never known it was Bellweather.
They stood near an old stone boathouse.
Robert told them a silly rule.
When you hide treasure, never put it where people look. Put it where people look through.
Claire had forgotten.
Until now.
Where people look through.
Glass.
She looked around the greenhouse.
Hartwell noticed.
“What?”
Claire stared at the cracked glass.
Not here.
Another place.
The estate’s stained-glass chapel.
People looked through the windows.
Robert had worked with Matteo.
The archive might be hidden inside something transparent.
Hartwell stepped toward her.
“You remembered.”
Claire forced her face blank.
“No.”
“You did.”
He reached into his pocket.
Julian’s voice came from the doorway.
“Step away from her.”
Hartwell turned.
Julian sat in his manual chair.
Alone.
Hartwell smiled.
“You came.”
Julian looked at Andrew.
“Of course.”
Hartwell pressed a remote.
The greenhouse doors locked.
Above them, irrigation valves opened.
Not water.
Gas hissed into the room.
Claire covered her mouth.
Hartwell had prepared the same trick.
Again.
But Julian had anticipated it.
He threw a metal object through a glass panel.
The greenhouse wall shattered.
Fresh air rushed inside.
Gabriel’s agents moved in.
Hartwell ran.
Andrew kicked his chair sideways into Hartwell’s path.
Hartwell fell.
Claire grabbed the remote.
Agents entered seconds later.
Andrew was free.
Claire dropped to her knees and hugged him.
Fourteen months vanished.
He held her so tightly she could barely breathe.
“You shouldn’t have come looking.”
“You knew I would.”
“I hoped you’d gotten smarter.”
“No luck.”
Andrew laughed.
Then cried.
Julian looked away, giving them privacy.
Claire finally pulled back.
“Dad’s archive.”
Andrew nodded.
“You remembered?”
“The stained glass.”
His face changed.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“That isn’t where it is.”
She stared.
“Then what did he mean?”
“People look through.”
Andrew looked toward the lake.
“Water.”
Claire followed his gaze.
People did not look at Lake Bellweather.
They looked through its surface.
May you like
And hidden somewhere beneath it was the one archive Samuel Cole had spent decades trying to find.
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