Chapter 4 - The Winter Room
Adrian denied everything.
Of course he did.
“That was planted.”
Rachel held the second brass key inside an evidence bag.
“By whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were wearing the jacket.”
“Someone could have slipped it into my pocket.”
I stood across the ballroom and watched him.
He kept looking toward the west hallway.
Not the exits.
Not his father.
The west hallway.
The direction of the library.
I walked over.
“Where did you get my mother’s key?”
He smiled.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
Rachel stepped between us.
“Answer the question.”
Adrian leaned back.
“Ask Charles.”
My father said nothing.
Conrad appeared beside his son.
“This conversation is over.”
Nathan Pierce, the federal prosecutor, shook his head.
“No, Mr. Mercer.”
He showed Conrad his credentials.
“I think it’s finally beginning.”
Conrad’s face tightened.
I took my father’s key and headed for the west library.
Rachel accompanied me.
So did Nathan.
My father insisted on coming.
The Winter Room sat behind two bookcases beneath the library.
I hadn’t entered it since I was seventeen.
The air smelled like cedar and old paper.
At the far wall was the brass lock.
My key slid inside perfectly.
Click.
The door opened.
The room beyond was narrow and windowless.
Shelves covered every wall.
Boxes were labeled by year.
My mother had been meticulous.
Rachel switched on the lights.
I began reading labels.
FOUNDATION.
MERCER.
LEAH.
I stopped.
There it was.
A gray archive box with Leah Monroe’s name.
My fingers trembled when I lifted the lid.
Empty.
Someone had already been there.
Nathan looked around.
“No dust on the shelf beneath it.”
Rachel nodded.
“Recently moved.”
My father stared at the box.
“I never knew this existed.”
I wanted to believe him.
Then Rachel noticed something taped beneath the lid.
An envelope.
My name was written across it in my mother’s handwriting.
ELENA.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
If you are reading this, then I failed to stop them.
My throat tightened.
I continued.
Leah was right.
The theft is larger than the foundation.
Conrad is not working alone.
Never trust the first confession.
And if Charles tells you he was only protecting you, ask him what he signed on October 14.
I stopped reading.
The room became silent.
My father closed his eyes.
I turned toward him.
“What happened October fourteenth?”
He didn’t answer.
I moved closer.
“What did you sign?”
“Elena.”
“What did you sign?”
Rachel’s gaze sharpened.
My father finally looked at me.
“A confidentiality agreement.”
“With whom?”
“Leah.”
My stomach dropped.
“You silenced her?”
“It was more complicated.”
“Was she trying to report the theft?”
“Yes.”
“And you paid her not to?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
His voice became almost inaudible.
“I ordered her to stop investigating.”
The words hit harder than Adrian’s hand ever could.
May you like
Three weeks later, Leah Monroe was dead.
And my father had just admitted that before she died, he helped make sure she stood alone.
