Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew Too MuchHannah stared at Michael.
"Sabrina stole the file?"
"That's what the security footage shows."
"Why would she want something connected to my brother?"
Michael glanced at Walter.
"Because she wasn't working for Mr. Calder alone."
Walter stepped forward.
"Who else?"
Michael hesitated.
"Arthur Calder."
The name landed heavily.
Vincent's father had been dead for six years. His funeral had been attended by politicians, judges, business executives, and men whose faces had appeared in police photographs without ever appearing in court.
Hannah remembered him as a charming older gentleman who had always called her sweetheart.
She also remembered how he had once told Vincent, during a Christmas dinner, that marrying a woman from an apple orchard was an unusual choice for a Calder.
Vincent had thrown his wineglass against the fireplace afterward.
He had never explained why.
"Arthur is dead," Hannah said.
"His estate isn't," Michael replied. "And neither is the organization he built."
Walter folded his arms.
"Get to the point."
Michael took a small envelope from his coat.
"Mr. Calder wants Hannah to see this."
Hannah didn't take it.
"Then he can bring it himself."
"He's been trying to reach you."
"He had nine years."
Michael accepted the answer without argument.
"There's something else. Sabrina has disappeared."
Walter looked toward the driveway.
"Then perhaps you should disappear too."
Michael gave him a grim look.
"I can't. Someone is watching this property."
That evening, Hannah learned that Michael wasn't exaggerating.
A truck she didn't recognize had been parked across the road for nearly an hour.
Walter noticed it first.
He turned off the kitchen lights and pulled the curtains.
"Go upstairs."
"Dad—"
"Now."
A moment later, the truck's headlights switched on.
It drove past the farmhouse.
Then stopped.
Two men got out.
Walter reached beneath the kitchen counter and removed an old hunting rifle.
Hannah froze.
"Since when do you keep that there?"
"Since people started threatening my family."
A knock sounded at the front door.
Three sharp blows.
Walter moved toward the hallway.
Hannah grabbed his sleeve.
"Please don't."
Another knock.
Then a man's voice.
"Mr. Whitaker. We know you have the original records."
Walter's face hardened.
Hannah looked at the envelope Michael had left.
She opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Daniel standing beside Vincent.
The picture was dated two days before the warehouse fire.
On the back, someone had written:
Daniel wasn't the only one who knew.
Hannah turned the photograph over again.
There was something in the background she hadn't noticed.
A woman standing beside a black Mercedes.
Sabrina.
Her stomach tightened.
"She's been involved in this for years."
Walter stared at the photograph.
"Apparently."
The men outside began trying the door.
Walter raised the rifle.
"Go to the cellar, Hannah."
She didn't move.
Then her phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
Don't trust your father. Ask him what happened to the second copy.
Hannah looked up.
Walter was still facing the door.
"Dad?"
He turned.
She held out the phone.
"What second copy?"
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For the first time in her life, Walter Whitaker looked afraid of his own daughter.
And before he could answer, the front door burst inward.
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