Chapter 5 - PROJECT LANTERNAndrew read the Project Lantern file in silence.
Emma had established the initiative three years earlier to support children who had witnessed frightening events at home or experienced sudden loss. The program funded counseling, temporary care, and family advocacy. Its records were supposed to be confidential, accessible only to a small, independent team.
After Emma died, Victor had taken control of the project.
The file showed that he had redirected funds to a private consulting company, closed several active cases, and removed names from the official database.
One name remained.
Alex James.
Beside it was a note dated two days after Emma's death:
Child reports incident involving vehicle and adult male. Follow-up required. Contact guardian before further interview.
The follow-up had never occurred.
Andrew called the listed caseworker, a woman named Denise Porter. She answered from a clinic in Queens.
When Andrew identified himself, she fell silent.
“I wondered when you'd find that file,” she said.
“Why was my son listed?”
“Emma asked us to keep a record of anything Alex said about the night she died.”
Andrew gripped the phone.
“What happened that night?”
“I wasn't there. Emma called me earlier that evening. She said she was concerned someone had been following her.”
“Who?”
“She didn't give me a name. She said she wanted to speak to you first.”
Andrew closed his eyes.
He had been in Boston that night, negotiating the acquisition that eventually made his company a national powerhouse. Emma had called twice. He had ignored the first call and sent a message after the second: In a meeting. Call you tomorrow.
She died before tomorrow came.
Denise continued, “After the funeral, Alex told one of our counselors that he heard an argument and saw a blue car outside the house. He said a man came inside. But Victor told us the child was confused and instructed us to close the case.”
“Did you?”
“I refused. Two weeks later, I was removed from the program.”
Andrew's stomach turned.
“Can you testify to that?”
“Yes.”
He thanked her and ended the call.
For a long time, he sat without moving.
He had built a life around the belief that Emma's death was a terrible, unpreventable medical tragedy. He had accepted the official report because he couldn't bear the thought of anything else.
But now there were gaps in the investigation, a frightened child, and a trusted adviser who had shut down the one program designed to protect him.
Andrew returned to the living room.
Elizabeth was helping Alex paint a picture of the city. The boy had drawn three figures in front of a building: himself, his mother, and a taller figure with a black umbrella.
Andrew sat on the floor beside him.
“That's a beautiful picture.”
Alex kept painting.
“Can you tell me about it?”
The boy's shoulders rose.
Andrew immediately corrected himself.
“You don't have to. I just wanted you to know I like it.”
Alex looked at him, surprised.
Then he tapped the umbrella with his brush.
“Rain.”
Andrew nodded.
“Was it raining that night?”
Alex stopped painting.
Elizabeth looked at Andrew, warning him not to push.
Andrew swallowed.
“I'm sorry. You don't have to answer.”
For several seconds, Alex stared at the canvas.
Then he whispered, “The car was blue.”
Andrew felt his heartbeat in his throat.
“Okay.”
“The man had a watch.”
“Okay.”
“He said Mommy had to come with him.”
Alex's fingers began shaking. Paint dripped onto the paper.
Elizabeth moved closer but did not touch him.
“Alex, look at the blue paint,” she said softly. “Can you tell me what color it is?”
“Blue.”
“That's right. Can you feel your feet on the floor?”
Alex pressed them down.
Andrew forced himself not to interrupt.
The boy took a trembling breath.
“Mommy told me to hide.”
Andrew's eyes filled.
“Where did you hide, buddy?”
Alex looked at him.
“Under the table.”
Then his face changed.
“Daddy, I tried to help.”
Andrew reached for him slowly, allowing Alex to move away if he wanted.
“You were five years old. You didn't have to help. You were a child.”
“But I didn't stop him.”
Andrew's voice broke.
“No, sweetheart. You weren't supposed to stop anyone. That was the adults' job.”
Alex began crying.
Andrew held him as gently as he could, and this time he didn't ask for another word.
Later that evening, Andrew confronted Victor at the foundation's office.
Victor arrived wearing a dark overcoat and the expression of a man who believed the conversation could still be managed.
“You're making a serious mistake,” Victor said.
Andrew placed the Project Lantern records on the table.
“You closed the case.”
“I protected your son from unnecessary questioning.”
“You removed the caseworker.”
“She was becoming obsessive.”
“You redirected the funds.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“Those funds were used for other legitimate purposes.”
Andrew slid the final document across the table.
It was an access log showing that Victor had entered Andrew's home through the service elevator on the night Emma died.
Victor looked at it.
For the first time, his expression faltered.
Andrew leaned forward.
“You told me you were at the hospital when Emma was brought in.”
Victor said nothing.
“Where were you really?”
Victor slowly raised his eyes.
“Andrew, if you want the truth about your wife's final night, you should ask your housekeeper what she saw.”
Andrew froze.
May you like
Because Elizabeth had told him she never witnessed Emma's death.
And Victor was smiling.
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