Chapter 7 - The Fire That Never Ended
The warehouse fire had been ruled accidental.
That was the first lie.
The second was that Margaret Cross had died alone.
And the third was that my father had been responsible.
I learned all three on a Thursday morning in the office of a retired fire investigator named Thomas Keene.
Keene was seventy-one, broad-shouldered, and missing the tip of his left index finger.
He lived in a modest house outside Beacon with a dog named Walter and enough old newspapers to build a second house.
Grant had found him through the original Northstar investigation records.
When Keene opened his door, he stared at Grant for several seconds.
"You look like your father."
Grant didn't smile.
"I've heard that."
"Not always a compliment."
"I know."
Keene looked at me.
"And you must be Daniel Whitmore's daughter."
I nodded.
His expression softened.
"Your father was a decent man."
Those six words nearly made me cry.
Inside, Keene spread photographs across his dining table.
The warehouse had burned in October 2004.
Northstar's first commercial prototype had been stored there.
Margaret Cross was listed as the only fatality.
But Keene pointed to an evidence photograph showing two sets of footprints near a rear service door.
"Someone else was inside."
"Who?" Grant asked.
"We never identified them."
"Why not?"
"Because the case was closed before the laboratory reports came back."
Grant frowned.
"Who closed it?"
Keene looked at him.
"Your father's company retained an attorney who persuaded the property insurer to accept the accidental-fire finding. The police investigation ended without criminal charges."
"Charles?"
"He signed the settlement."
Grant stared at the table.
I touched one of the photographs.
A burned metal cabinet stood near the warehouse entrance.
"What was inside?"
"Prototype records. Patent applications. Financial ledgers."
Keene pulled out another folder.
"Your father asked me to keep copies of certain photographs. He believed someone had entered the building before the fire."
"My father?"
"Daniel came to see me twice. He said Margaret had discovered something that could destroy several powerful people."
"What?"
Keene hesitated.
"She found payments disguised as Northstar development expenses. Money moving through companies that didn't appear to have employees or real offices."
Grant leaned forward.
"Who controlled those companies?"
"We couldn't prove it."
Keene looked toward the window.
"But your father believed the payments were connected to Hale Meridian's international expansion."
I stared at Grant.
He didn't look away.
"There's more," Keene said.
He handed me a photocopy of a handwritten note.
The writing was unmistakably my father's.
Margaret did not start the fire. She was trying to stop the transfer.
Beneath it were three words.
ASK VICTORIA WHY.
My stomach dropped.
Grant read the note twice.
Then he stood.
"I need to speak to my mother."
Keene shook his head.
"Before you do, understand something. Charles Hale wasn't the only person who wanted Northstar buried."
"Who else?"
Keene opened another folder.
Inside was a photograph taken at a company dinner.
Charles Hale stood beside my father.
Margaret Cross was seated nearby.
And at the head of the table sat Victoria Hale.
She looked younger.
Beautiful.
Powerful.
Her hand rested on a black leather briefcase.
Keene tapped the photograph.
"That briefcase was recovered from the warehouse after the fire."
Grant frowned.
"What was inside?"
"Nothing."
"Then why does it matter?"
"Because its lock was broken from the inside."
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
Keene shrugged.
"I never found out. But Margaret had been carrying that case when she told a colleague she had evidence of fraud."
Grant's phone rang.
Victoria.
He answered.
"Mother."
Her voice was loud enough for me to hear.
"Where are you?"
"Why?"
"Because Evelyn Cross is missing, the board is demanding answers, and your wife is making allegations that could destroy our family."
Grant looked at me.
"Nora hasn't made any public allegations."
"Then keep it that way."
His expression hardened.
"Did you know about the Northstar fire?"
Silence.
Then Victoria said, "Come home."
"Answer me."
"Grant."
"Did you know Margaret Cross?"
Another silence.
Finally, Victoria whispered, "You have no idea what that woman did."
Grant went still.
"What did she do?"
"She tried to take everything from us."
"By exposing fraud?"
Victoria laughed bitterly.
"Is that what they told you?"
Grant looked at Keene.
"What are you hiding?"
His mother answered with a sentence that made my skin crawl.
"Ask Nora why her father kept Margaret's daughter alive."
Then she hung up.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Keene looked troubled.
"Margaret's daughter?"
Grant nodded slowly.
"Evelyn."
But something wasn't right.
Evelyn Cross had been raised by her father after Margaret's death.
Her father had died several years later.
There was no reason for my father to have been involved.
Unless—
I looked at the photograph again.
The young woman beside Margaret.
The resemblance was undeniable.
But there was something else.
A silver necklace.
A small oval pendant.
I had seen it before.
Not on Evelyn.
On someone else.
My hands began trembling.
"Grant."
He turned.
"Emily wears that necklace."
He frowned.
"What?"
"Dr. Parker. She has the same pendant."
Keene looked at the photograph.
Then he whispered, "That isn't Margaret's necklace."
"Whose is it?"
He took off his glasses.
"It belonged to her daughter."
I stared at him.
"But Evelyn—"
Keene shook his head.
"Margaret had two daughters."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
And suddenly I understood why someone had accessed my medical records.
May you like
One of Margaret Cross's daughters had been trying to control my pregnancy.
The other had been helping me survive it.
