Chapter 13 - Black HarborThe outage lasted eighty-seven seconds.
No one entered the house.
That frightened Damen more than an attack would have.
The breach had been a message.
Someone had disabled an estate security network designed by former military intelligence specialists, left it dark long enough to prove they could reach the Voss family, then disappeared.
Nothing stolen.
Nobody injured.
Only one object had been placed on the front steps.
A white envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Margaret Hargrove.
Across her face someone had written:
LET THE DEAD STAY DEAD.
Damen wanted Sera nowhere near Maine.
Sera refused.
“If my mother spent the last years of her life trying to protect me, I’m not hiding from what she left behind.”
“This isn’t hiding.”
“It feels like it.”
“It’s staying alive.”
She looked directly at him.
“Those aren’t always the same thing.”
That ended the argument.
The following morning, two armored SUVs left Rhode Island before sunrise.
Marcus drove the lead vehicle.
Claudia followed.
Evelyn rode separately under guard.
Damen and Sera sat together in the second SUV.
Three hours into the drive, Sera noticed Damen had barely spoken.
“You’re angry.”
“No.”
“You’ve said six words since Massachusetts.”
“Seven.”
She looked at him.
He looked out the window.
She smiled despite herself.
“You’re angry.”
“I dislike plans where my wife travels voluntarily toward people threatening to kill her.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
“Thank you.”
“But you came.”
His gaze shifted toward her.
“There is no version of this where you go without me.”
She slipped her fingers into his hand.
Damen looked down.
Months earlier, she could barely tolerate accidental contact.
Now she reached for him.
He closed his hand around hers.
Black Harbor appeared shortly after noon.
It was barely a town.
A general store.
A church.
A weather-beaten marina.
Several cottages pressed between pine forest and a steel-gray Atlantic.
Margaret’s cottage stood alone on a rocky inlet.
Sera recognized it immediately.
Blue shutters.
White siding.
A crooked chimney.
Behind it sat the boathouse.
Still ugly.
Still leaning.
Still there.
Marcus cleared the property first.
Nothing.
Sera entered the boathouse with Damen.
Dust floated through shafts of afternoon light.
Fishing equipment hung from rusted hooks.
An overturned wooden boat rested against the far wall.
Sera slowly walked toward it.
“What did you tell your mother?” Damen asked.
“Somewhere ugly.”
He glanced around.
“Plenty of options.”
She smiled faintly.
Then she saw it.
A ceramic mermaid attached to the wall.
Hideous.
Bright blue eyes.
Cracked green tail.
Sera stopped.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I gave her that.”
She approached.
“I made it at summer camp.”
Damen stared at the grotesque object.
“You made that?”
“I was nine.”
“That explains some of it.”
She elbowed him.
Then touched the mermaid.
It moved.
A hidden compartment opened behind the wall.
Inside was a waterproof metal case.
Damen’s expression changed.
“Don’t touch it.”
Marcus entered.
They photographed everything before removing the case.
Claudia opened it inside the cottage.
The ledger was there.
But it wasn’t alone.
There were dozens of shipping manifests.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
And VHS tapes.
One photograph showed Charles Whitaker shaking hands with a man Damen recognized instantly.
He went completely still.
Sera noticed.
“Who is he?”
Damen didn’t answer.
“Damen.”
His eyes remained fixed on the picture.
Finally:
“Adrian Voss.”
Sera frowned.
“Your father?”
“My uncle.”
Damen took the photograph.
Adrian Voss had disappeared eighteen years earlier.
Officially, he had died in a boating accident.
Unofficially, Damen’s father had always claimed Adrian betrayed the family and fled after stealing millions.
Yet here he was.
Standing beside Charles Whitaker.
At Hargrove Shipping.
Claudia opened the ledger.
Page after page documented payments.
Politicians.
Judges.
Customs officials.
Private security contractors.
Then she reached the final section.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Claudia turned the book toward Damen.
One account appeared repeatedly.
VOSS MARITIME CONSULTING.
Authorized representative:
Adrian Voss.
Sera touched Damen’s arm.
Before either could speak, Marcus’s voice exploded through the radio.
“Movement outside.”
Damen pulled Sera down.
Glass shattered.
A bullet tore through the cottage window.
Then another.
Marcus returned fire from outside.
Damen dragged Sera behind the stone fireplace.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Sera.”
“I am not staying alone.”
Another shot punched through the wall.
Then the firing stopped.
A car engine screamed somewhere beyond the trees.
Marcus’s team pursued.
Five minutes later, he returned.
“They got away.”
“Description?”
“Black SUV. Maine plates stolen.”
Then Marcus held something out.
A spent casing.
Taped around it was a strip of paper.
Damen unfolded it.
Three words.
ASK YOUR FATHER.
Sera looked up.
Damen’s face had gone pale.
“My father died twelve years ago.”
Claudia closed the ledger.
Evelyn, standing near the kitchen doorway, whispered:
“No, Damen.”
Everyone turned.
She looked terrified.
“Your father didn’t die.”
Damen stared at her.
“What did you say?”
May you like
Evelyn swallowed.
“I saw Viktor Voss three months ago.”
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