Chapter 4 - The Man in the Lobby
My father had been dead for fourteen years.
I had identified his watch at the hospital.
I had stood beside his grave.
I had watched my mother place white roses on his coffin.
So when the elevator descended toward the lobby, every rational part of me insisted this was a trap.
Adrian stood beside me.
Marco and two security men occupied the opposite side.
“You’re staying behind me,” Adrian said.
I looked at him.
“I’m not one of your employees.”
“No. Employees occasionally listen to me.”
Under different circumstances, I might have smiled.
I didn't.
The elevator opened.
The man waiting near reception was not my father.
For one devastating second, disappointment hit before relief.
He was perhaps sixty-five, gray-haired, thin, with wire-rimmed glasses.
He held an envelope.
“Claire Bennett?”
Adrian stepped between us.
“Who are you?”
“Thomas Keane.”
“You told reception you were Daniel Bennett.”
“No. I told them I was here because of Daniel Bennett.”
The nurse had misunderstood.
My pulse slowed.
Barely.
Thomas looked at me.
“I knew your father.”
“Everyone suddenly knew my father.”
“I was his attorney.”
“My father used the same lawyer for twenty years. Harold Finch.”
“For ordinary matters.”
Thomas held out the envelope.
“This wasn't ordinary.”
Adrian took it first.
Thomas smiled faintly.
“You haven't changed.”
“You know me?”
“I knew your father.”
That did not improve Adrian’s expression.
Thomas turned back to me.
“Daniel left instructions. If anyone named Moretti ever approached you about Victor Hale, I was to deliver this.”
“Fourteen years later?”
“I was never supposed to contact you unless that happened.”
“How did you know it happened today?”
Thomas looked toward the hospital entrance.
“Because someone called my office forty minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“Name?”
“She didn't give one.”
Vanessa.
I knew before anyone said it.
Adrian did too.
His jaw tightened.
Thomas gestured toward the envelope.
“Your father expected this day.”
Inside was a key.
And a handwritten note.
I recognized the handwriting instantly.
Claire,
If you are reading this, then what I tried to bury did not stay buried.
Trust evidence, not names.
Especially mine.
—Dad
I read it twice.
“Trust evidence, not names?”
Thomas nodded.
“There’s a safe-deposit box at Hudson Commonwealth Bank.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don't know.”
Adrian looked at the key.
“What branch?”
“Tribeca.”
“We go now.”
I stared at him.
“We?”
“Claire—”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“You’re pregnant and someone is tracking you.”
“And whose world brought that danger to me?”
The question hurt him.
Good.
Thomas quietly interrupted.
“Actually, Ms. Bennett, I recommend Mr. Moretti accompany you.”
“Why?”
“Because your father’s instructions specifically say the box requires two keys.”
He looked at Adrian.
“The second key belonged to Lorenzo Moretti.”
Adrian went silent.
Marco muttered something in Italian.
An hour later, we entered the bank through a private entrance.
Adrian had retrieved Lorenzo’s key from a secure vault in his office.
The bank manager verified everything and led us underground.
Box 417 was long and narrow.
My key turned first.
Adrian’s second.
The lock clicked.
Inside were three things.
A flash drive.
A paper ledger.
And a sealed letter bearing Adrian’s name.
He stared at it.
“Open it,” I said.
He did.
Lorenzo Moretti’s handwriting filled two pages.
Adrian read silently.
His face changed by degrees.
“What?”
He handed me the letter.
Adrian,
If Daniel Bennett has activated this box, then Victor has returned or someone has begun searching for what he stole.
Daniel believes Victor intends to frame the Moretti family for his crimes. I believe Daniel is correct.
There is something else you must know.
Daniel's accident was not an accident.
My hand stopped.
The words blurred.
Adrian caught my elbow.
I pulled away and kept reading.
Victor arranged it.
Daniel survived the initial crash.
We moved him before Victor’s people reached the hospital.
He agreed to disappear to protect Claire.
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Adrian took the letter.
His face was as stunned as mine.
I read the sentence again.
Daniel survived.
My father had survived.
Thomas stepped backward.
“You didn’t know?” I asked.
“No.”
“Where is he?”
The letter continued.
Only one person knows Daniel’s location.
Vanessa Russo.
Adrian closed his eyes.
Of course.
Vanessa.
We rushed back to the hospital.
Her room was empty.
The bed sheets were tangled.
The IV line lay on the floor.
A nurse was crying beside the door.
“She was here five minutes ago.”
Adrian's voice turned deadly calm.
“Security footage.”
“We’re checking.”
Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then held it out to Adrian.
A video message.
Vanessa appeared on screen.
Her face was pale.
Someone stood behind the camera.
She looked terrified.
“Claire,” she whispered, “if you found the box, listen carefully. Your father is alive.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Vanessa looked off camera.
Then hurried.
“Victor knows about the baby. He thinks Daniel hid the original ledger with you.”
Adrian grabbed the phone tighter.
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“And Adrian—there's something else.”
A man's voice spoke behind the camera.
“Enough.”
Vanessa flinched.
The video ended.
A text appeared immediately afterward.
BRING THE LEDGER. COME ALONE. OR VANESSA DIES BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
Adrian stared at the screen.
I stared at the paper ledger in my hands.
Then another message appeared.
This one addressed to me.
ASK ADRIAN WHO SIGNED YOUR FATHER’S DEATH CERTIFICATE.
May you like
I looked up.
Adrian’s face told me he already knew the answer.
