Chapter 3 - The Father Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Claire Bennett had buried her father eleven years earlier.
Dominic knew because he had once seen the framed funeral photograph on her desk.
Now the same man had appeared on a phone neither of them recognized.
Alive.
And terrified.
Claire stared at the dark screen.
"That's impossible."
Dominic took the phone gently from her hands.
"Claire, look at me."
She couldn't.
"My father died in a warehouse fire."
"I know."
"No. You don't understand. I saw his coffin. I stood beside my mother while they lowered it into the ground."
Dominic glanced toward Miles.
"Get us out of here."
Miles climbed into the driver's seat.
Dominic helped Claire into the back.
As the SUV pulled away, she pressed her palms against her eyes.
"His name was Daniel Bennett," she said. "He was a shipping accountant. He worked for a company called Northstar Freight."
Dominic's expression changed.
Claire saw it.
"You know that company."
He looked through the rain-covered window.
"Northstar handled cargo for my father."
"Your father?"
"Before I took over Vale Maritime."
Claire lowered her hands.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?"
"Because I didn't know your father worked there."
"Are you sure?"
The question hurt more than Dominic expected.
He answered carefully.
"Yes."
Claire watched him.
For four years, she had known Dominic as a man who could intimidate a room simply by entering it. But she had also watched him quietly pay hospital bills for employees, visit the widows of men who had died working for him, and keep promises nobody else remembered making.
She knew he was dangerous.
She had never believed he was dishonest with her.
Until now.
"Silas said something about why I came to Ravensport," she whispered.
Dominic turned toward her.
"Why did you?"
Claire looked away.
"Because I wanted to know what happened to my father."
Silence filled the vehicle.
Miles kept his eyes on the road.
Claire continued.
"When I was seventeen, the police said the fire was an accident. My mother didn't believe them. She spent years trying to prove someone had locked the warehouse doors."
"What happened to her?"
"She died when I was twenty-two."
Dominic remembered Claire requesting three days off shortly after joining his company.
She had said there had been a death in the family.
He hadn't asked questions.
Now he wished he had.
"Before she died," Claire said, "she gave me a photograph. My father was standing beside three men."
"Who?"
"Silas Harrow. Your father. And someone whose face had been cut out."
Dominic leaned back.
His father, Richard Vale, had died six years earlier.
Officially, a heart attack.
Unofficially, Dominic had always suspected poison.
"Do you still have the photograph?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"My apartment."
Dominic looked at Miles.
"Change of plans."
Miles shook his head.
"Boss, if Harrow knows where she lives—"
"He does," Claire interrupted.
Both men turned.
"Grant told me my apartment number. He described the flowers on my kitchen windowsill."
Dominic's face hardened.
"Then we don't go there."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere nobody outside my family knows exists."
Twenty minutes later, the SUV entered an underground garage beneath a modest brick building on Ravensport's east side.
No guards stood outside.
No cameras were visible from the street.
Dominic led Claire through a private elevator into a quiet apartment furnished with dark wood, leather chairs, and shelves of old books.
Claire looked around.
"This is yours?"
"It belonged to my mother."
He paused.
"She used to come here when she needed to get away from my father."
That surprised Claire.
Dominic rarely spoke about his parents.
He placed her purse on the kitchen counter.
"You're staying here tonight."
She folded her arms.
"And you're leaving?"
"Not until you're comfortable."
Claire looked down at her torn sleeve.
Only then did she seem to notice the damage.
Dominic opened a cabinet and found a clean gray sweater.
"Here."
She accepted it.
"Thank you."
He turned away while she changed in the adjoining bathroom.
When she returned, Miles was speaking quietly on the phone.
"Evelyn's coming," he said. "She's got the club footage preservation request moving."
Dominic nodded.
"Any word on the missing containers?"
Miles hesitated.
"Something strange."
"What?"
"The records room was opened after we left."
Dominic looked at him sharply.
"I told you to lock it."
"I did."
"Who has access?"
"Five people."
Dominic knew every name.
Miles Carter.
Evelyn Price.
Two senior operations managers.
And Claire Bennett.
Claire stared at him.
"You think I did it?"
"No."
But she had already seen the calculation in his eyes.
Miles's phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
"Boss, security sent a still from the basement camera."
He held it out.
Dominic looked.
The photograph showed someone entering the records room at 12:17 a.m.
A woman.
Dark hair.
Blue dress.
Claire's exact clothing.
Claire stepped closer.
Her face drained of color.
"That's me."
Dominic looked from the image to the woman standing beside him.
The timestamp was twelve minutes after he had pulled her from the Neon Harbor.
Miles swallowed.
"How can she be in two places at once?"
Then another message arrived.
This time it contained a photograph of a dead man.
The man lay beside the open records-room safe.
Dominic recognized him immediately.
One of the operations managers.
May you like
Beneath the photograph was a single sentence.
YOUR SECRETARY HAS BEEN VERY BUSY TONIGHT.
