Chapter 11: The Room Behind the Elevator
David refused to believe the message.
"That's not possible," he repeated as Collins drove toward the abandoned hotel.
"Michael died in a car accident. I identified his body myself.""
Whitaker sat in the front passenger seat, his hands cuffed loosely in his lap.
"You identified a body wearing his clothes," he said.
"You never saw his face clearly.""
David turned toward him.
"You expect me to believe my own brother arranged his death?""
"I expect you to believe what the evidence shows.""
I sat in the back beside Thomas, staring at the photograph of Daniel that had started this nightmare.
My brother was alive.
My husband might have been murdered.
My best friend might have faked her death.
And now the man responsible was holding Daniel at gunpoint.
"Why would Michael keep Daniel alive?"" I asked.
Thomas answered carefully.
"Daniel appears to be the only person who can authenticate the original account documents and identify the people involved in the transfers. Michael may believe he can still force Daniel to cooperate.""
"Then we need to get him out.""
"We will. But the police have to manage the situation.""
The abandoned Whitmore Hotel stood on a hill overlooking the river. Its windows were boarded, its entrance chained shut, and a faded sign hung crookedly above the doorway.
The property had closed after a kitchen fire years earlier. I remembered reading about it in the newspaper.
According to the article, the damage had been extensive, but nobody had been injured.
Now I wondered whether the fire had been an accident at all.
Armed officers surrounded the building as we arrived. Collins instructed us to remain behind the command vehicle while he joined the tactical team.
I watched the dark windows.
Somewhere inside, Daniel was waiting for someone to decide whether his life mattered more than the truth.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Come inside alone, Margaret, and Daniel walks out.
Thomas read it over my shoulder.
"Absolutely not.""
A second message arrived.
You wanted answers. Bring the woman who raised Olivia.
I frowned.
"The woman who raised Olivia?""
Thomas looked at me.
"You're her mother.""
"Exactly. He's making a distinction.""
I read the message again.
Bring the woman who raised Olivia.
Not bring Olivia's mother.
Someone wanted a particular person.
I thought of Susan's letter, the disputed account, and the photograph of the woman standing beside Robert.
Then a memory surfaced.
When Olivia was born, I had been ill for several weeks. Susan stayed at our house, helping me recover. During those days, she'd held Olivia for hours, whispering to her while I slept.
Once, I'd awakened to find Susan crying beside the crib.
When I asked what was wrong, she'd said, "I just can't believe how much she looks like him.""
I'd assumed she meant Robert.
Now I wasn't sure.
I turned to Thomas.
"Did Susan have children?""
He checked his notes.
"Not that we've found.""
"Was she ever married?""
"Her records list a brief marriage in her twenties, but the husband died before they moved here.""
I stared at him.
"What was his name?""
Thomas found the entry.
"Michael Whitmore.""
David, standing beside us, went completely still.
"My brother was married to Susan?""
Thomas nodded slowly.
The implications settled over us.
Susan hadn't simply been Robert's friend. She had been connected to Michael long before any of us understood the financial scheme.
And if she'd helped manage the accounts, she might have known exactly how the money moved.
Collins returned from the command vehicle.
"Michael wants Margaret inside. He says he'll release Daniel if she comes alone.""
"Then we negotiate from here," Thomas replied.
Collins shook his head.
"He won't speak to anyone else. He's demanding Margaret.""
I looked toward the hotel.
"Then let me talk to him.""
"No," Thomas said firmly.
"That's exactly what he wants.""
"But he might hurt Daniel if I refuse.""
Collins considered the situation.
"We'll use the service entrance. You will not enter the room. We'll establish communication, and you'll remain behind cover. If anything changes, we pull you back immediately.""
It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was better than waiting.
The tactical team guided me through a side entrance into a corridor that smelled of wet plaster and burned wood. My shoes crunched over broken glass.
At the end of the hallway, a metal service elevator stood with its doors jammed open.
Behind it was a narrow doorway.
A man's voice came from the darkness.
"Margaret?""
I recognized it instantly.
Michael.
"You wanted to see me," I said.
"Come closer.""
Collins signaled me to stop.
I remained where I was.
"Let Daniel go.""
Michael laughed softly.
"Always giving orders. Robert used to say the same thing about you.""
"Don't speak about my husband.""
"Your husband was a difficult man. He couldn't leave a secret alone.""
"Was that why you killed him?""
Silence.
Then Michael stepped into view.
He was older than the man in the photographs, with deep lines around his mouth and silver hair at his temples. A pistol hung loosely in his right hand.
Daniel sat behind him, his wrists bound to a metal chair. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow.
"Michael," David called from behind the officers.
"Put the gun down.""
Michael glanced toward his brother.
"Still pretending to be the good son, David?""
"You let me bury you.""
"You buried a stranger.""
Michael looked back at me.
"Do you know why Robert died, Margaret?""
I forced myself to hold his gaze.
"Because he refused to help you steal money.""
Michael smiled.
"No. Robert died because he discovered the money wasn't the only thing Susan had hidden.""
My stomach tightened.
"What did she hide?""
He tilted his head.
"Ask your daughter.""
Daniel struggled against his restraints.
"Don't listen to him, Margaret!""
Michael struck him across the face with the back of his hand.
"Quiet.""
I took one involuntary step forward.
"Leave him alone.""
"Then do as I say.""
Michael reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded document.
It was an old hospital birth certificate.
He held it up.
"Your daughter has spent her entire life believing Robert Hayes was her father.""
My heart stopped.
"What are you talking about?""
Michael looked at me with an expression that was almost pity.
"Robert knew the truth. Susan knew the truth. Daniel knew the truth.""
He glanced at David.
"And now, I think it's time you did, too.""
I stared at the document.
The name beneath the heading Father was partially obscured by his thumb.
May you like
But the surname was clear.
Whitmore.
