Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER WHO CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD
Dominic's hand moved toward the weapon beneath his jacket.
Adrian noticed and laughed softly.
“Still reaching for a gun before saying hello. Some things never change.”
“Get out of the vehicle.”
“That's not much of a greeting for a brother you mourned.”
“You were declared dead.”
“By people who needed me dead.”
Adrian stepped out of the SUV. He looked older than Dominic remembered, leaner through the face, with a faint scar crossing his left eyebrow. His expensive coat was damp from the rain, but his smile remained perfectly composed.
Clara stood behind Dominic.
Adrian's gaze settled on her.
“Clara Hayes. Arthur always said you were smarter than the people who employed you.”
“You told Arthur you were dead,” she replied.
“I told everyone I was dead.”
“Why?”
Adrian's smile vanished.
“Because our family has a problem with brothers who ask questions.”
Dominic motioned toward the photographs.
“You're going to explain everything.”
“Not here.”
“You don't give me orders.”
“No, but the men who followed you here might.”
A distant engine roared.
Adrian looked toward the road.
“Get in. Unless you'd prefer to discover who else is interested in that locker.”
Dominic didn't move.
Clara touched his sleeve.
“Sir, the documents are evidence. If another vehicle is approaching, we should leave before it reaches the entrance.”
Dominic studied Adrian for another second, then climbed into the SUV with Clara. He kept his weapon in his hand.
Adrian drove without speaking until the warehouse disappeared behind them.
“Where's Marcus?” Dominic demanded.
“Alive, last I heard.”
“Working for you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Explain.”
Adrian glanced at him.
“Marcus has been feeding information to both sides. He works for whoever pays him and tells himself he's protecting the family.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“He has served me for eleven years.”
“And how many times has he told you something you wanted to hear?”
The question landed harder than Dominic expected.
Adrian continued.
“Arthur discovered that someone was moving money through a holding company called Northbridge Holdings. The transfers weren't investments. They were payments to people building a private network around you.”
“An operation against my family,” Dominic said.
“Exactly.”
“Who owns Northbridge?”
“That was what Arthur was trying to prove.”
Dominic opened the folder again.
“Why is your name on his notes?”
“Because I helped him trace the first transfers.”
“From beyond the grave?”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“I faked my death after discovering our father had ordered a hit on someone inside the organization. I thought disappearing would keep me alive long enough to find out why.”
“Our father has been dead for eight years.”
“And yet his old accounts are still moving money.”
Dominic looked at him.
“That's impossible.”
“Then stop assuming the dead stay dead.”
Clara shifted in her seat.
“Mr. Bennett said the person behind the transfers needed access to the family reserve account, the security system, and the legal structure of the holding companies.”
Adrian nodded.
“Which narrows the field to a handful of people.”
“Vanessa,” Dominic said.
“Possibly. But she's not the one who built the network.”
Dominic's phone rang.
Samuel Whitmore's name appeared on the screen.
He answered immediately.
“Samuel?”
“Dominic, I've received a threat. Someone broke into my office.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. They took Arthur's original statement and left something behind.”
“What?”
“A photograph of your brother.”
Dominic glanced at Adrian.
“Did you recognize the person who broke in?”
“I didn't see his face. But he knew exactly where the statement was kept.”
“Get somewhere safe. I'm sending someone.”
“No,” Whitmore said sharply. “Don't send anyone from your household. I no longer know whom to trust.”
The call ended.
Dominic stared at the phone.
Adrian pulled into an underground garage beneath an abandoned commercial building.
“This place is safe for tonight,” he said.
“Nothing is safe anymore.”
“Now you're learning.”
Inside, Adrian led them to a small office with a table, a refrigerator, and a wall of surveillance monitors. He locked the door behind them.
Clara laid the documents across the table.
“We need to find Arthur.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“You think he's alive?”
“I think someone spent a great deal of effort making his disappearance look permanent.”
Dominic studied her.
“Why are you so certain?”
Clara hesitated.
Then she reached into her canvas bag and removed a small silver pendant.
“Arthur gave me this the day before he disappeared. He said that if I ever saw your brother again, I should ask him about the woman in the photograph.”
Adrian stared at the pendant.
For the first time since arriving, he looked genuinely shaken.
“Where did you get that?”
“Mr. Bennett gave it to me.”
Adrian picked it up with trembling fingers.
“Who else has seen this?”
“No one.”
He turned the pendant over.
Inside was a tiny photograph of a woman holding a baby.
Dominic recognized the woman.
Their mother.
She had died when the brothers were children.
But the baby wasn't either of them.
Dominic looked up.
“Who is that child?”
Adrian closed the pendant.
“Our sister.”
The room fell silent.
Dominic's mother had never mentioned a daughter. No birth certificate had ever surfaced. Their father had always insisted the family consisted of two sons.
“Where is she?” Dominic asked.
Adrian looked at Clara.
“That's what Arthur was trying to find out.”
Before Dominic could respond, one of the monitors flickered.
A camera feed showed the garage entrance.
A man in a dark coat walked toward the elevator carrying a white envelope.
Adrian went rigid.
“That's impossible.”
“Who is he?” Clara asked.
Adrian didn't answer.
The man stopped directly beneath the camera and looked up.
Then he raised the envelope.
On it, written in thick black ink, were four words.
RETURN THE GIRL TO US.
Dominic turned slowly toward Clara.
“Which girl?”
Adrian reached for the weapon on the table.
“Your sister,” he whispered.
Then the elevator doors opened.
And a voice from the hallway called Clara by a name she had never told anyone in the Moretti household.
May you like
“Elizabeth.”
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