Chapter 4: Locker 317
Nobody touched the key.
It sat in the center of the conference table while Desmond stared at Isolde as if she had just signed his death warrant.
"You stupid woman," he whispered.
Isolde recoiled.
That was the moment whatever remained between them died.
"You told me it was insurance," she said.
"It was none of your business.""
"You gave me the key!""
"Because I trusted you.""
She laughed once, bitterly.
"You trusted me to clean up your mess.""
I reached for the key.
Desmond moved.
Chairman Voss stepped between us.
"Don't.""
Desmond stopped.
I closed my fingers around the cold brass.
"Where is the locker?""
Isolde swallowed.
"Westbridge Storage. About twenty minutes from here.""
Naomi was already typing.
"We shouldn't go alone.""
"I agree," Voss said.
Desmond scoffed.
"Listen to yourselves. You're turning a corporate accounting issue into some ridiculous conspiracy.""
I looked at him.
"Then explain the locker.""
"It's personal.""
"What's inside?""
"Personal property.""
"What property?""
His silence answered me.
Naomi stood.
"I'm contacting outside counsel and requesting preservation of anything connected to the unit.""
Desmond smiled suddenly.
It wasn't relief.
It was calculation.
"You don't even know whose name it's under.""
Isolde looked at him.
Then at me.
"Mine.""
His smile disappeared.
Twenty-five minutes later, I was sitting in the back of Voss's sedan with Naomi beside me.
Isolde followed in another car with outside counsel.
Desmond was told to remain at the hotel.
He objected loudly.
Then something strange happened.
He stopped.
Just stopped arguing.
That worried me more than the shouting.
Westbridge Storage sat behind a row of warehouses near the river.
At 12:17 a.m., the night manager led us down a fluorescent corridor.
"Three seventeen," he said.
My heels clicked against concrete.
Isolde walked behind me.
"Wren.""
I kept moving.
"I'm sorry.""
"For the earrings?""
"For all of it.""
I stopped.
"You slept with my husband.""
Her face tightened.
"Yes.""
"You stood beside him while he humiliated me.""
"Yes.""
"And now you're sorry because you're frightened.""
She looked down.
"Yes.""
At least she was finally telling the truth.
We reached 317.
Naomi photographed the lock before anyone touched it.
Then outside counsel nodded.
Isolde inserted the key.
Click.
The metal door rolled upward.
At first, the contents looked disappointingly ordinary.
Three cardboard archive boxes.
A locked document case.
An old laptop.
And a gray fireproof safe.
Desmond had built his secret like an accountant.
Neat.
Labeled.
Organized.
Naomi pulled on gloves.
"Nobody touches anything unnecessarily.""
The first box contained invoices.
Hundreds of them.
The second held contracts.
The third held personnel records.
Voss picked up one folder and frowned.
"These people don't work for Corvina.""
Naomi examined it.
"No. But Corvina paid them.""
My stomach tightened.
"Ghost employees?""
"Possibly.""
Isolde sat on a plastic chair against the wall.
"I didn't know.""
Nobody answered her.
Naomi opened the document case.
Inside were company seals, authorization forms and copies of executive signatures.
Including mine.
I stared at the page.
My name.
My signature.
Almost perfect.
But wrong.
I always crossed the W in Ashcombe slightly backward.
Whoever copied it hadn't noticed.
"This is forged.""
Naomi nodded.
"We'll have it examined.""
Voss cursed under his breath.
Then Isolde spoke.
"There's something else.""
We turned.
She was staring at the safe.
"Desmond opened that once while I was here.""
"You've been here before?"" I asked.
"Twice.""
"What did you see?""
"Cash.""
Voss's eyebrows rose.
"How much?""
"I don't know. A lot.""
"And?""
She hesitated.
"A photograph.""
My skin prickled.
"Of what?""
"Not what. Who.""
She looked at me.
"Your father.""
The room seemed to tilt.
My father had been dead for eight years.
"What photograph?""
"He was standing beside Desmond.""
"That's impossible.""
Desmond had always told me he'd met my father only twice.
Once at a charity dinner.
Once at our engagement party.
Isolde shook her head.
"They were younger. Desmond looked maybe twenty-five.""
My mouth went dry.
That would have been years before Desmond claimed they'd met.
Naomi crouched beside the safe.
"We need the combination.""
"I don't have it," Isolde said.
Voss looked at me.
"Could it be something personal?""
I thought about anniversaries.
Birthdays.
Numbers Desmond reused.
Then I remembered.
Our wedding date.
I entered it.
Nothing.
My birthday.
Nothing.
His birthday.
Nothing.
I almost laughed at myself.
Of course.
Desmond would never build his secret around me.
Then I tried the date Corvina Systems was incorporated.
The safe clicked.
Nobody spoke.
I opened it.
No cash.
Someone had emptied it.
Only one object remained.
A photograph.
My hands trembled as I picked it up.
My father stood outside a building I didn't recognize.
Beside him was a much younger Desmond.
And between them stood another man.
Someone I knew.
Chairman Voss.
I slowly turned toward him.
His face had lost all color.
"Elias?""
May you like
He stared at the photograph.
Then he whispered, "Wren, your father made me promise never to tell you what happened that night.""
