Chapter 4 - THE RED MUSIC BOX
Christopher did not go alone.
He simply made sure Juliette believed he did.
Emma remained at St. Agatha under Dr. Vale’s protection.
Yvette stayed with her.
Six plainclothes members of Christopher’s security detail followed him at a distance.
Two state investigators were also informed.
Christopher refused to let them approach the terminal until he gave the signal.
The abandoned Pierce ferry terminal sat beside black water and rotting pilings.
Rain hammered the metal roof.
Christopher entered through a side door.
The building smelled of salt, oil, and wet timber.
“Juliette.”
No answer.
He stepped farther inside.
A single lamp glowed near the old ticket counter.
The red music box sat beneath it.
Christopher stopped.
He recognized every scratch.
Rachel had painted tiny stars across the lid herself.
Christopher moved toward it.
A voice came from the shadows.
“Don’t touch it.”
Juliette stepped into view.
Her hair was wet.
She had changed into dark trousers and a hooded jacket.
Christopher looked behind her.
“Where is my mother?”
Juliette laughed bitterly.
“You still think she tells me where she goes?”
“You escaped because of her.”
“I escaped because she opened a door.”
“Why?”
“Because she needed you to think we were working together.”
Christopher stared at her.
“Are you saying you aren’t?”
Juliette’s face twisted.
“I’m saying Estelle Pierce has never worked with anyone.”
Christopher glanced at the music box.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You stole it.”
“I stole it because she told me to.”
“After trying to drown Emma?”
Juliette looked away.
Christopher’s voice became colder.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Did you push my daughter into that pool?”
Juliette’s eyes filled.
The silence lasted too long.
Christopher knew the answer.
“You did.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like that.”
Christopher nearly lost control.
“There is no version of pushing a six-year-old into water that becomes acceptable.”
“She was supposed to be found immediately.”
Christopher stared at her.
Juliette continued desperately.
“Estelle said the camera system would record everything.”
“She said someone would see.”
“She said it would scare you into sending Emma away.”
Christopher felt disgust.
“So you believed her?”
“No.”
Juliette shook her head.
“I wanted to.”
Christopher stepped closer.
“You wanted the inheritance.”
“I wanted a life.”
“You wanted my daughter gone.”
Juliette’s voice rose.
“You don’t understand what she did to me.”
Christopher almost laughed.
“You want sympathy?”
“No.”
Juliette wiped her face.
“I want you to understand why everyone around Estelle eventually becomes someone they don’t recognize.”
Christopher looked at the music box.
“Open it.”
Juliette hesitated.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“It needs a key.”
Christopher remembered the brass key Yvette had given him.
He reached into his pocket.
Juliette saw it.
Her expression changed instantly.
“Where did you get that?”
“Samuel Sloan.”
Juliette backed away.
“Christopher.”
“What?”
“Put it away.”
“Why?”
“Because Estelle has spent fourteen years looking for that key.”
Christopher stared at her.
“She didn’t know Yvette had it?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I heard her ask Adrian about it.”
Christopher froze.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“Adrian met my mother?”
Juliette nodded.
“At the country house.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Christopher stared.
Juliette’s voice dropped.
“They argued.”
“About what?”
“Rachel.”
Christopher felt his pulse quicken.
“Tell me everything.”
“I heard Adrian say he knew Rachel was alive.”
“And?”
“Estelle told him to stop digging.”
“What did Adrian say?”
Juliette looked directly at him.
“He said Samuel left proof.”
Christopher looked at the brass key.
Then at the box.
He inserted it.
The key fit.
Juliette stepped back.
Christopher turned it.
A small click came from inside.
The music box began playing.
Rachel’s favorite lullaby.
Christopher had not heard it in years.
His throat tightened.
The lid lifted.
Inside was a velvet tray.
No document.
No drive.
No recording.
Only a small photograph.
Christopher picked it up.
It showed Rachel, Samuel Sloan, and Christopher’s father standing beside a cargo ship.
Christopher turned it over.
Four words were written on the back.
PIER 19.
BENEATH THE LEDGER.
Christopher stared.
Juliette whispered.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Then the lights went out.
Juliette gasped.
Christopher reached for her.
A gunshot cracked through the building.
Wood splintered beside them.
Christopher dragged Juliette behind the counter.
Another shot.
Christopher shouted.
“Down!”
His security team moved.
Footsteps thundered outside.
A third shot shattered the lamp.
Darkness swallowed the terminal.
Juliette grabbed Christopher’s sleeve.
“It’s her.”
Christopher looked at her.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because she told me what happens to people who talk.”
Another shot struck metal.
Security returned fire toward the ceiling to force the attacker behind cover.
Christopher crawled toward the music box.
He grabbed it.
Then someone dropped from a catwalk above them.
Christopher turned.
The figure wore a black raincoat.
A mask covered the face.
The attacker swung a metal bar.
Christopher blocked it with his forearm.
Pain exploded through his arm.
Juliette screamed.
Christopher drove his shoulder into the attacker.
They crashed into a row of broken chairs.
The mask shifted.
Christopher grabbed it.
The attacker twisted away.
For one second, Christopher saw the face beneath.
He froze.
The attacker struck him.
Christopher fell backward.
The figure ran.
Security rushed in.
“Stop!”
The attacker disappeared through a side door.
Christopher struggled upright.
Juliette grabbed him.
“Who was it?”
Christopher stared toward the exit.
He couldn’t answer.
Because the face beneath the mask was Adrian’s.
His brother.
Alive.
Free.
And apparently trying to kill him.
The security chief reached Christopher.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“Who was that?”
Christopher remained silent.
Juliette saw his expression.
“You recognized him.”
Christopher looked at her.
“It was Adrian.”
Juliette shook her head.
“No.”
“I saw him.”
“No.”
“Why are you saying no?”
“Because Adrian saved Rachel.”
Christopher frowned.
“How do you know?”
Juliette pulled a folded paper from inside her jacket.
“Because he gave me this.”
Christopher opened it.
It was a handwritten note.
If Christopher finds the box, tell him not to trust what he sees.
E.P. has doubles everywhere.
A.
Christopher stared.
“E.P.”
Juliette’s eyes widened.
“Estelle Pierce.”
Christopher looked toward the door where the attacker escaped.
A security guard returned.
“No sign of him.”
Christopher examined the photograph again.
Pier 19.
Beneath the ledger.
He made a decision.
“Where is Pier 19?”
The security chief answered.
“Old Brooklyn freight district.”
Christopher held up the photograph.
“We’re going.”
Juliette grabbed his arm.
“You can’t.”
Christopher pulled away.
“You’re coming too.”
She stared.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Why?”
“Because I still don’t know which side you’re on.”
Juliette looked toward the music box.
“You think I have a side?”
Christopher’s voice stayed flat.
“Everyone has a side when a child ends up in a pool.”
Juliette looked ashamed.
For once, she said nothing.
They left the terminal through the secured entrance.
Police surrounded the building.
Christopher turned over the spent shells.
He handed investigators copies of Yvette’s recordings.
He did not mention the photograph.
Not yet.
He did not trust anyone enough.
Two hours later, Christopher stood beneath Pier 19.
Rusting beams crossed beneath the abandoned shipping office.
Juliette remained under guard.
The security chief searched the area.
Christopher found an old metal floor panel marked PIERCE FREIGHT.
He pried it open.
Beneath it sat a waterproof case.
Christopher lifted it out.
Inside was a ledger.
Samuel Sloan’s handwriting filled the pages.
Dates.
Companies.
Amounts.
Names.
Christopher flipped through them.
Then he stopped.
One name appeared repeatedly.
ESTELLE PIERCE.
Another appeared beside hers.
MALCOLM PIERCE.
Christopher stared at his father’s name.
His father had been dead for five years.
Christopher turned more pages.
Payments to judges.
Payments to hospitals.
Payments to private security.
Then a date six years earlier.
The day before Rachel’s crash.
The entry read:
VEHICLE TRANSFER.
R. MONROE.
AUTHORIZATION: M. PIERCE.
Christopher’s breath left his lungs.
His father had authorized the transfer connected to Rachel’s car.
Juliette whispered.
“Christopher.”
He kept reading.
A second line appeared.
POST-INCIDENT MEDICAL CONTROL.
AUTHORIZATION: E. PIERCE.
Christopher stared.
His father had controlled the car.
His mother had controlled the hospital.
This had been a joint operation.
Christopher’s entire understanding of his childhood shattered.
Then he reached the final page.
A handwritten note had been added years later.
ADRIAN KNOWS.
IF I DISAPPEAR, FIND CHRISTOPHER.
RACHEL IS THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN EXPLAIN WHY EMMA MUST NEVER TURN SEVEN INSIDE PIERCE MANOR.
Christopher froze.
Emma’s seventh birthday was in eleven days.
Juliette stared at the page.
“What does that mean?”
Christopher didn’t know.
His phone rang.
It was Yvette.
He answered immediately.
“Is Emma all right?”
Yvette was breathing hard.
“Christopher.”
“What happened?”
“Someone came to the hospital.”
Christopher’s heart stopped.
“Who?”
“They had court papers.”
“What court papers?”
Yvette’s voice cracked.
“Guardianship papers.”
Christopher looked at the ledger.
“They took Emma.”
The world went silent.
Christopher could barely speak.
“Who took her?”
Yvette answered.
“Estelle.”
Christopher closed his eyes.
Then Yvette said the words that made everything worse.
May you like
“She told Emma you were under arrest for trying to kill Juliette.”
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