Chapter 20
“Did my father control it?”
“He controlled the records. I do not know whether he was Rook.”
The answer left the room colder.
I looked toward the ledger beneath my coat.
“Why did Daniel die?”
Marian’s gaze dropped.
“Officially, it was an accident. His car left the road during a storm.”
“And unofficially?”
“I cannot say.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“No,” she agreed. “It isn’t. But I never saw proof that the accident was arranged. What I do know is that Daniel had planned to meet Alexander the day after he died.”
Alexander went still.
“Meet me about what?”
“The accounts. He had prepared a packet for you.”
“Where is it?”
Marian looked at Margaret.
“He gave it to me.”
Margaret’s eyes widened.
“I thought it had been destroyed.”
“I was told to destroy it,” Marian replied. “I could not.”
She reached inside her coat and removed a flat envelope.
The paper was yellowed with age.
“Why bring it now?” I asked.
“Because I received a letter three weeks ago. It said that the people who had suffered from my silence were finally together again. It said I had one chance to correct what I had done.”
“Who sent it?”
Marian turned the envelope over.
The back bore a simple handwritten R.
“Rebecca,” Alexander said.
Marian shook her head.
“The letter was signed R, but the handwriting was not hers.”
I took the envelope.
The writing looked familiar.
Not because I had seen it recently, but because I had studied old documents for years. The slanted letters, the narrow capital strokes, the habit of crossing a t too high—
“Your father,” I said.
Alexander looked at me.
“He died ten years ago.”
“Then someone is copying his handwriting.”
Marian’s expression tightened.
“There was another page.”
She handed it to me.
It contained only one sentence.
If you want Claire to know the truth, bring her to the house where the first lie began.
Beneath it was an address.
I recognized it immediately.
The old Russo shipping office in the city.
It had been closed since before Ethan was born.
Alexander read the address over my shoulder.
“That building was sold.”
“Not entirely,” Margaret said. “The upper floors remain in the family trust.”
“Who has access?”
“Anyone with a company credential,” he replied.
“Or Elena’s credentials,” I said.
Marian’s hands tightened around the envelope.
“I did not come here to accuse anyone. I came because I wanted you to have Daniel’s papers.”