Chapter 7 - CELESTE CHANGES SIDES
Celeste laughed first.
It was not a happy laugh.
It was disbelief.
Nathan glared at her.
“What is funny?”
“You.”
She shook her head.
“You spent years acting like Evelyn needed you.”
Nathan stepped toward her.
“Careful.”
“No.”
Celeste’s voice became steadier.
“You should be careful.”
She looked at Detective Cole.
“I want an attorney.”
Cole nodded.
“That would be wise.”
Celeste continued.
“And I want to cooperate.”
Nathan stared at her.
“You think they will protect you?”
Celeste looked back.
“I think you were planning to abandon me.”
Nathan said nothing.
She reached into her handbag again.
This time she removed a small black notebook.
“I kept records.”
Nathan’s face changed instantly.
I almost admired Celeste’s survival instincts.
Almost.
“What records?”
She handed the notebook to Cole.
“Dates.”
She looked at me.
“Hotels.”
Then at my father.
“Meetings.”
Nathan moved forward.
“Give me that.”
Cole stepped between them.
Celeste smiled coldly.
“You always told me intelligent people keep insurance.”
Nathan looked furious.
Celeste continued.
“There are twenty-three meetings listed there.”
“Between Nathan and Charles?”
“Sometimes.”
She pointed toward Malcolm.
“Sometimes him.”
Malcolm looked away.
“And sometimes someone named V.R.”
Dad frowned.
“Who is V.R.?”
Celeste shrugged.
“I never met them.”
Nathan sat down again.
For the first time, he looked defeated.
But then he said something strange.
“V.R. isn’t a person.”
Malcolm’s head snapped toward him.
Nathan noticed.
“So you did know.”
Malcolm said nothing.
Dad looked between them.
“What is V.R.?”
Nathan smiled faintly.
“Vault Registry.”
Adrian frowned.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It will.”
Nathan looked at me.
“Your mother created it.”
I stared at him.
“My mother?”
Nathan leaned back.
“A private archive.”
He nodded toward the flash drive Malcolm had brought.
“That drive is probably one fragment.”
Malcolm became pale.
My father noticed.
“You told me that contained financial records.”
“It does.”
“Only financial records?”
Malcolm hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Adrian plugged the drive into another isolated computer.
A password request appeared.
Malcolm looked at me.
“Your mother designed the password.”
I sat in front of the screen.
“What would she use?”
Dad whispered, “Not something obvious.”
I thought about my mother.
She loved astronomy.
Old books.
Blue orchids.
Then I remembered something she told me when I was a child.
Never hide a key where someone expects a key.
Hide it inside a memory.
I typed two words.
BLUE WINTER.
Access granted.
A folder appeared.
VAULT REGISTRY.
Inside were dozens of encrypted files.
One was labeled CHARLES ASHFORD.
Another was labeled MALCOLM SHAW.
Then I saw one that made my father stop breathing.
May you like
ARTHUR HARTWELL.
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