Chapter 4
Galen wanted to go.
Detective Ruiz refused.
“Your daughter needs you here.”
“What happened at the cemetery?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“You just said she wasn’t alone.”
Ruiz glanced at Eira.
Galen understood.
He kissed his daughter.
“Grandma is staying with you.”
Eira grabbed his sleeve.
“You’re leaving?”
“Just downstairs.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He brought Ruiz into the hallway and closed the bedroom door.
“Now tell me.”
Ruiz lowered her voice.
“A cemetery employee saw Ainsley near Celeste’s grave with a man.”
“Nolan?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“They argued. The employee went to call security. When he came back, Ainsley was gone.”
Galen stared.
“You said they found her.”
“They found her purse.”
His anger surged.
“You made it sound like—”
“I said they found Ainsley because that was the first information relayed to me. It was corrected while we were speaking.”
Galen clenched his jaw.
“What was in the purse?”
“We haven’t inventoried it yet.”
“Was she digging at Celeste’s grave?”
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Was she?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“There were fresh marks around the memorial stone.”
Galen went cold.
He had purchased a private family plot after Celeste’s death.
A stone bench.
White roses.
Nothing beneath the marker except earth and Celeste’s ashes sealed inside a burial vault.
Or so he believed.
“Why would she go there?”
Ruiz looked toward the study.
“Maybe your wife hid more than one thing.”
Twenty minutes later, Ruiz left for the cemetery.
Galen stayed.
He hated staying.
But Eira woke twice that night screaming.
The first time, she cried for Celeste.
The second time, she cried because she thought Ainsley was standing in the hallway.
Galen slept on the floor beside her bed.
At 3:14 a.m., his phone vibrated.
Marcus.
Galen answered quietly.
“What?”
“Ruiz found something.”
He sat upright.
“What?”
“A package.”
“Where?”
“Inside the base of the memorial bench.”
Galen’s heart pounded.
“How?”
“One of the stone panels had been resealed.”
“Celeste put it there?”
“They don’t know yet.”
“What’s inside?”
“Ruiz won’t say over the phone.”
Galen looked at Eira.
“When can I see it?”
“Morning.”
He did not sleep again.
At seven, Bianca took Eira downstairs for breakfast.
Galen entered his study.
Marcus and Ruiz arrived ten minutes later.
Ruiz carried an evidence photo instead of the package itself.
“It was wrapped in waterproof material.”
She placed the photograph on the desk.
A small black pouch.
“What was inside?”
“Copies of financial records.”
Galen frowned.
“Whose?”
“Ainsley Vale’s father.”
“Harold Vale?”
Ruiz nodded.
Galen knew the name.
Everyone in his business circle did.
Harold Vale had owned a regional development company before bankruptcy destroyed it.
He died of a heart attack five years earlier.
Ainsley rarely spoke about him.
She told Galen the bankruptcy had devastated her family.
“What does her father have to do with Celeste?”
Ruiz placed another photograph down.
A ledger page.
Moretti Infrastructure.
Galen stared.
“Why is my company on that?”
“It isn’t your company.”
“It says Moretti.”
“Your father’s company.”
Galen looked closer.
His late father, Vittorio Moretti, had founded the original business.
Before Galen took over.
“What am I looking at?”
Ruiz replied.
“Payments made through shell vendors nearly eight years ago.”
“To Harold?”
“From Harold.”
Galen frowned.
Marcus leaned over the photograph.
“These vendor names look familiar.”
Galen turned.
“You know them?”
“Not personally. I’ve seen two in old litigation records.”
“What litigation?”
“Port development contracts.”
Galen’s stomach tightened.
Celeste had worked as an attorney before Eira was born.
Specifically in nonprofit compliance and land-use law.
The Harbor Foundation.
The same place she met Ainsley.
Ruiz continued.
“Celeste was apparently investigating questionable donations tied to the foundation.”
“Why?”
“That part isn’t clear.”
Marcus looked at the ledger.
“She may have discovered bribery.”
Galen stared at him.
“Connected to my father?”
“Possibly connected to people using his company.”
“Vittorio died six years ago.”
Ruiz nodded.
“And Harold Vale died five.”
Galen looked down at the ledger again.
“Then why would Ainsley care now?”
Ruiz placed another photograph beside it.
A handwritten note.
Ainsley knows what Harold did.
Galen felt a chill.
“What did Harold do?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
Ruiz pointed to a series of dates.
“Several payments occurred while your father’s company was bidding for waterfront permits.”
Galen remembered that project.
It nearly ruined Vittorio.
The permits had been delayed.
Investors fled.
Then Harold Vale’s company unexpectedly won a related contract.
His father had accused someone of corruption but never proved it.
“You think Harold bribed officials?”
“Maybe.”
“And Celeste discovered it?”
“Maybe.”
Galen shook his head.
“That still doesn’t explain why Ainsley would stalk her.”
Ruiz met his eyes.
“Unless Celeste knew something that could destroy the Vale family.”
Galen thought of Ainsley’s words.
Celeste should have learned when to stay quiet.
He felt sick again.
“What about the flash drive?”
“Digital forensics is reviewing it.”
“How long?”
“We’ll move as fast as we can.”
Galen hated that answer.
Ruiz slid one last evidence photograph toward him.
This one showed the inside of Ainsley’s purse.
Wallet.
Cosmetics.
Keys.
A folded piece of paper.
And a photograph.
Galen leaned closer.
The photograph showed Eira.
At preschool.
Taken from a distance.
Galen’s face hardened.
“When?”
“We don’t know.”
Eira looked younger.
Maybe three.
A year before Galen met Ainsley.
His heart stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
Marcus looked at him.
“What?”
“I met Ainsley eleven months ago.”
Ruiz nodded.
“The photograph appears older.”
Galen stared at Eira’s tiny figure walking beside a teacher.
“She was watching my daughter before she met me.”
Ruiz didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
Galen stood.
“I want security on Eira twenty-four hours a day.”
“Reasonable.”
“I want Ainsley found.”
“So do I.”
“And Nolan.”
“Already being located.”
Galen picked up the photograph again.
“There’s something else.”
Ruiz waited.
“If Ainsley had planned this for years, how did she meet me?”
Marcus frowned.
“You said it was at a charity dinner.”
“Yes.”
“Random?”
“I thought so.”
Galen remembered the evening.
Ainsley had been seated at the table beside his.
She spilled wine near him.
He helped her.
They laughed.
She recognized his surname but acted embarrassed about it.
Three weeks later, they met again at another event.
Then coffee.
Then dinner.
It had felt natural.
Now every memory looked staged.
Ruiz asked, “Who organized the seating?”
Galen called his executive assistant.
Six minutes later, he had the answer.
The sponsor relations committee.
Ainsley had volunteered for it.
Galen closed his eyes.
Nothing had been accidental.
Not the first meeting.
Not the second.
Perhaps not any of it.
Bianca appeared at the doorway.
“Eira won’t eat.”
Galen immediately left the office.
He found his daughter sitting at the kitchen island.
A plate of pancakes sat untouched.
She was staring at the locket.
Galen had temporarily repaired the chain with a small clasp.
“What’s wrong?”
Eira whispered.
“Mommy’s picture is gone.”
Galen frowned.
“What?”
She opened the locket.
One side held Celeste’s photograph.
The other side was empty.
Galen remembered there had always been a tiny folded photograph behind Celeste’s portrait.
He had assumed it was another copy.
“When did you notice?”
“Now.”
Galen carefully removed Celeste’s picture.
Behind it was nothing.
His pulse quickened.
“Was there something back here before?”
Eira nodded.
“A little paper.”
“Did you see what was on it?”
“No.”
“Who touched your locket?”
Her face changed.
“Ainsley.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Of course.
Galen called Ruiz back into the kitchen.
Eira explained.
Ruiz crouched beside her.
“Did Ainsley take the little paper?”
Eira nodded.
“She said it was trash.”
“Where did she put it?”
“In her pocket.”
Ruiz stood.
Her team had Ainsley’s purse.
But not the clothes she wore at rehearsal.
Those were presumably wherever Ainsley went after leaving the hotel.
Galen’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He almost ignored it.
Then something stopped him.
He answered.
“Hello?”
No response.
“Ainsley?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
Galen stepped away from Eira.
“Who is this?”
A distorted male voice said:
“You opened the box.”
Galen’s blood went cold.
“Who are you?”
“You should have let the wedding happen.”
“Where is Ainsley?”
A low laugh.
Then:
“Ask your daughter what was in the locket.”
The line disconnected.
Galen stared at the phone.
Ruiz was already moving.
“Give me that.”
He handed it over.
She called her team.
Galen turned toward Eira.
She had heard enough to understand someone was talking about her.
Her eyes were huge.
“Daddy?”
He crouched.
“Sweetheart, I need you to think.”
She swallowed.
“The little paper inside Mommy’s locket.”
Eira nodded.
“Did Mommy ever tell you about it?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did anyone?”
Eira shook her head.
Then she looked thoughtful.
“Grandma did.”
Bianca froze.
“I did?”
Eira nodded.
“One time.”
Bianca came closer.
“What did I say?”
Eira struggled to remember.
“You said Mommy put a secret in my heart.”
Bianca’s eyes filled.
“I meant the locket.”
Galen stood.
“When?”
“Years ago. She was a baby.”
“You knew there was something inside?”
“No.”
Bianca took the locket.
Then her expression changed.
“I remember Celeste showing me this before Eira was born.”
“What?”
“She said she had modified it.”
Galen leaned closer.
Bianca ran her thumb along the inner rim.
“There.”
A tiny groove.
Marcus brought a magnifying lens from Galen’s desk.
The locket contained a nearly invisible number etched along the metal.
Six digits.
Ruiz photographed it.
“A code?”
Marcus asked.
Ruiz said, “Maybe.”
Bianca whispered.
“Celeste was terrified before she died, wasn’t she?”
Galen looked at the number.
He suddenly remembered something.
Celeste’s old safe-deposit box.
They had closed one after their marriage.
Or he thought they had.
He turned to Marcus.
“Call First Atlantic Bank.”
Marcus frowned.
“Why?”
“Celeste had a safe-deposit box before we married.”
“You think the number—”
“I don’t know.”
The bank confirmed a safe-deposit box still existed under Celeste’s maiden name.
Galen was listed as successor beneficiary.
He had never received notification because the account fees had been prepaid for ten years.
The box number matched the first four digits etched in the locket.
Galen stared at Ruiz.
“I’m going.”
“So am I.”
An hour later, they entered a private bank room.
An employee brought the long metal box.
Galen’s hands shook as he opened it.
Inside sat one envelope.
One photograph.
And a small voice recorder.
The envelope said:
Galen, if Eira is old enough to wear the locket, she is old enough to lead you here.
Galen pressed play on the recorder.
Static filled the room.
Then Celeste’s voice spoke for the first time in four years.
“Galen, if you’re hearing this, I need you to understand something before anyone convinces you otherwise.”
He stopped breathing.
May you like
Celeste continued.
“My accident will not be an accident.”
