Chapter 6 - The Lie Augustus Carver Buried
Charlotte backed away from her father.
“You?”
Augustus rose.
“I can explain.”
“You stopped her car?”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I stopped her from reaching the Rainer estate. I called her. I told her to meet me instead.”
“Where?”
“The Hudson overlook.”
Charlotte knew the place.
It was where Catherine’s car had gone through the guardrail.
Her stomach turned.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You watched her die?”
“No.”
Augustus’s voice cracked for the first time.
“I watched her drive away.”
He sat heavily.
Catherine had met him carrying evidence that Victor Rainer had authorized payments connected to Evelyn’s intimidation and the disappearance of two witnesses.
Augustus begged her to go home.
She refused.
They argued.
Catherine drove away alone.
Twenty minutes later, her brakes failed.
“I reached the crash before the ambulance,” Augustus said.
Charlotte could barely speak.
“And you hid everything.”
“I found a second device beneath her seat. I knew whoever killed her would come for you next.”
“So you became my jailer.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“I couldn’t lose you too.”
“You lost me anyway.”
Augustus lowered his head.
“Yes.”
Dominic stood near the window.
“My father murdered both our mothers.”
“We don’t know that,” Augustus said.
“You just said—”
“I said the evidence connected Victor to Evelyn. Catherine’s death was different.”
“Henry Vale?”
“Possibly.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
“All these powerful men and none of you could protect two women.”
Charlotte looked at him.
“Maybe that was the problem.”
He turned.
“You all thought protection meant making decisions for them.”
Augustus absorbed the accusation.
So did Dominic.
The next morning, Charlotte made a decision.
She returned to the Marlowe Club.
Dominic found her standing in the ballroom.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
She gave him a look.
He corrected himself.
“I’m concerned about you being here.”
“Better.”
She placed her waitress uniform on a table.
“I quit.”
Dominic nodded.
“I expected that.”
“I want my final paycheck.”
“You’ll have it.”
“And Peter’s personnel records.”
“That I can’t legally give you.”
Charlotte raised an eyebrow.
Dominic almost smiled.
“I can, however, accidentally leave a folder on this table while getting coffee.”
He walked away.
Charlotte stared after him.
Thirty seconds later, she opened the folder.
Peter Wallace had joined the club eleven months earlier.
Before that, he worked for Vale Strategic Consulting.
Charlotte photographed everything.
Dominic returned carrying two coffees.
“I didn’t know how you take it.”
“Black.”
He handed her one.
She tasted it.
“Sugar.”
“I guessed.”
“Badly.”
“I’m discovering I do that.”
Charlotte looked at him.
There was no self-pity in his face.
Good.
She did not want his guilt.
She wanted change.
“You apologized,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I haven’t forgiven you.”
“I know.”
“You may never get forgiveness.”
“I know.”
“And helping me now doesn’t erase what happened.”
“I know.”
She studied him.
“Okay.”
It was the first inch of ground she had given him.
They spent the afternoon tracing Peter’s financial history.
At 4:17, Charlotte found something.
Peter had received monthly payments from a Delaware company.
The company’s registered agent was dead.
But its mailing address belonged to a Manhattan law firm.
Dominic knew the managing partner.
“Samuel Vale.”
Charlotte looked up.
“Henry’s son?”
“Yes.”
Samuel Vale was forty-six, polished, respected, and currently general counsel to Carver Holdings.
Charlotte called Augustus.
He did not answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Dominic was already moving.
They reached Carver Holdings twelve minutes later.
Augustus’s office was empty.
His assistant lay unconscious behind her desk.
On Augustus’s computer was a message.
COME TO THE OLD HOUSE. ALONE.
Charlotte knew exactly which house.
The Carver estate in Westchester.
Her childhood home.
They arrived after dark.
The mansion looked almost exactly as Charlotte remembered.
She hated that.
Dominic followed her inside.
“Stay behind me.”
She stopped.
He sighed.
“Habit.”
“Fix it.”
“Working on it.”
They found Augustus in Catherine’s old study.
Alive.
Sitting in a chair.
Samuel Vale stood beside him.
A gun rested in his hand.
Peter Wallace leaned against the fireplace.
And Vanessa Rainer stood near the window.
Untied.
Uninjured.
Dominic stared.
“Aunt Vanessa.”
She smiled.
“Hello, darling.”
“You staged the kidnapping.”
“Obviously.”
Charlotte looked at Augustus.
His hands were bound.
Samuel Vale spoke.
“Give us the earrings.”
“No.”
He pressed the gun against Augustus’s temple.
Charlotte did not move.
Samuel smiled.
“You inherited your mother’s stubbornness.”
“You knew her?”
“My father did.”
“Henry.”
“Yes.”
“Is he alive?”
Samuel’s smile widened.
A door opened behind them.
An old man entered.
Seventy, perhaps older.
Thin white hair.
Cane.
Charlotte had seen his face in photographs.
Henry Vale.
He looked at Augustus.
“Hello, old friend.”
Augustus stared at the man who had supposedly been dead for a decade.
Henry smiled.
“Catherine always said your greatest weakness was Charlotte.”
Then he looked at Dominic.
“And Evelyn said yours would be guilt.”
May you like
He lifted his cane and pointed toward the floor.
“Tonight, we find out which mother knew her son better.”
