Chapter 3 - THE EMPTY VILLA IN NASSAU
Claire refused to wait until morning.
Roman refused to let her go alone.
That was how, five hours after she slapped him, Claire found herself sitting in a black leather seat aboard Roman Calder’s Gulfstream while Manhattan disappeared beneath them.
Amy sat across the aisle.
Dante occupied the rear cabin.
Roman sat opposite Claire with a laptop open and three phones within reach.
She hated everything about the situation.
Mostly because some part of it felt safer than being anywhere else.
“You own this plane?”
Roman looked up.
“No.”
She almost laughed.
“Really?”
“My company owns it.”
“That is the richest possible version of no.”
His mouth moved slightly.
Claire looked away before she could accidentally think he was attractive.
Bad timing.
Monumentally bad timing.
Amy hadn’t spoken much since takeoff.
Her father’s call repeated inside everyone’s head.
Get away from Claire.
Don’t believe Roman.
They know Patrick left evidence.
Claire leaned toward her.
“Amy.”
Her cousin looked up.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
Amy smiled weakly.
“My dad lied.”
“Yes.”
“He went with Uncle Patrick.”
“Yes.”
“Why call me like he was somewhere else?”
“I don’t know.”
Amy looked toward Roman.
“Do you think he’s working with Bellamy?”
Roman answered without softness.
“I think your father signed hidden loans.”
Amy flinched.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
He closed the laptop.
“But it is what we know.”
Claire studied him.
“Do you always talk like a deposition?”
“Only when people are emotional.”
“That sounds unbearable.”
“I’ve been told.”
“By women?”
“Mostly lawyers.”
Dante coughed from the back.
Roman glanced at him.
Dante suddenly became interested in the window.
They landed in Nassau shortly after dawn.
Patrick Higgins had rented a villa under his middle name.
Roman’s people found it before Bahamian police finished reviewing charter records.
Claire insisted local authorities be notified.
Roman looked annoyed.
She stared him down.
He called.
That told her something.
He was dangerous.
He also understood rules when someone forced them into the room.
The villa stood behind a white wall overlooking turquoise water.
The front gate hung open.
Claire’s stomach dropped.
A Bahamian officer entered first with Dante.
Roman tried to keep Claire behind him.
She moved around.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Using your shoulders as a legal argument.”
He stared.
Then stepped aside.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, the living room looked normal.
Two glasses on the table.
One overturned chair.
A plate containing half a sandwich.
Then Claire saw blood near the hallway.
Not much.
Enough.
“Dad?”
She moved forward.
Roman caught her arm.
She spun.
“Let go.”
He released instantly.
“Claire.”
“My father is in there.”
“Or whoever hurt him.”
That stopped her.
Dante checked the hallway.
Empty.
Bedroom one.
Empty.
Bathroom.
Empty.
Master bedroom.
Empty.
No Patrick.
No Walter.
One suitcase remained open on the bed.
Claire recognized it.
Her father had owned the brown leather case for twenty years.
She touched the handle.
“Dad was here.”
Amy stood in the doorway.
“Claire.”
She pointed.
Patrick’s wallet lay on the dresser.
Cash still inside.
Passport gone.
Phone smashed in the wastebasket.
Roman picked up nothing.
He photographed everything.
Then Claire opened the suitcase.
Shirts.
Medication.
A family photograph.
Her mother.
Claire at twelve.
Patrick younger and smiling.
Her chest hurt.
Then she found an envelope beneath the clothing.
CLAIRE.
She stopped breathing.
Roman saw.
“Open it.”
“Thank you for the permission.”
He ignored that.
She tore the envelope.
Inside was one page.
Baby girl,
If you are reading this, I failed worse than I knew how to tell you.
Claire’s eyes blurred.
She continued.
I gambled.
Roman was right.
The first time was stupid. The second was desperation. After that, I kept telling myself the next bet would save the company from the last one.
Claire’s knees weakened.
Roman pulled a chair closer without touching her.
She sat.
Patrick’s letter continued.
Walter tried to stop me at first.
Amy looked up.
At first.
Then:
When Higgins Freight began missing payments, Victor Bellamy offered private financing. Walter said it was our only option. I signed things I should not have signed because losing the company felt more frightening than admitting to you that I had already endangered it.
Claire covered her mouth.
Then:
Eight months ago, I learned Bellamy did not want our company.
He wanted our customs credentials and Pier Nine.
I tried to refinance elsewhere.
Nobody would touch us.
Roman Calder did.
Claire froze.
She looked at Roman.
His face remained unreadable.
The letter continued.
Calder offered to purchase enough debt to block Bellamy.
I refused because I hated the terms and because I was ashamed.
Roman said, “Shame is expensive, Patrick.”
Claire looked at him.
“Did you say that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re awful.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Her eyes returned to the letter.
I should have taken the deal.
Then came the line that changed everything.
Walter stopped trying to save me months ago.
Claire’s head lifted.
Amy went white.
He started working with Bellamy.
“No.”
Amy whispered.
Claire kept reading.
I found proof last Friday.
Wire records. Shipping schedules. A private agreement giving Walter a ten-percent interest in the company Bellamy planned to form after Higgins Freight collapsed.
Amy backed into the wall.
“My dad…”
Roman stood very still.
Patrick continued.
Walter knew what Bellamy planned.
He helped him.
I confronted Walter Monday afternoon. He told me if I went to Claire, Bellamy would destroy her first.
Claire’s heart hammered.
Walter convinced me to fly to Nassau because Bellamy wanted a meeting.
He said we could settle this.
I was a coward and believed him.
If I disappear, do not trust Walter.
The evidence is where your mother always said I hid things badly.
I love you.
I am sorry.
Dad.
Claire stared at the final words.
No one spoke.
Amy started crying.
“No.”
Claire looked at her.
“My dad wouldn’t—”
“Amy.”
“No.”
She shook her head violently.
“He can be arrogant. He can be selfish. But Bellamy?”
Roman said quietly:
“Love does not improve evidence.”
Amy glared at him.
“Shut up.”
Roman did.
Claire folded the letter.
“The evidence.”
She tried to think.
Where your mother always said I hid things badly.
Patrick hid birthday presents in the same place every year.
Claire almost laughed.
“No.”
Roman frowned.
“What?”
“My mother.”
She stood.
“She used to complain Dad hid everything inside books.”
“What books?”
“At home.”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
“New York?”
“Yes.”
Patrick’s brownstone in Brooklyn Heights.
Amy wiped her face.
“So we go back.”
Claire looked at the blood.
“No.”
She turned to the Bahamian officer.
“Find my father.”
The officer nodded.
“We’re already checking hospitals, ports, marinas.”
Dante’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Boss.”
Roman turned.
“What?”
“A marina camera picked up Walter.”
Amy stopped.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Four twelve this morning.”
“Patrick?”
“No.”
Amy stared.
“Where did my father go?”
Dante looked grim.
“Private speedboat.”
“Destination?”
“Unknown.”
Claire’s pulse accelerated.
“And Dad?”
Dante hesitated.
“Another camera shows two men carrying somebody onto a different boat twenty minutes earlier.”
Claire went cold.
“Could you see who?”
“No face.”
“But?”
“Same jacket Patrick wore leaving Teterboro.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Victor Bellamy had her father.
Walter had left separately.
Then Roman’s phone rang.
He looked at the number and answered.
His expression became colder with every second.
“Victor.”
Claire looked up.
Bellamy.
Roman put the call on speaker.
A smooth male voice filled the room.
“Roman.”
“You have Patrick.”
Victor laughed.
“Always direct.”
“Is he alive?”
“For now.”
Claire stood.
Roman raised one hand.
Not to silence her.
To ask.
She nodded.
Roman continued.
“What do you want?”
“What I wanted before you inserted yourself.”
“Pier Nine.”
“And the Higgins customs network.”
Claire stepped forward.
Roman looked at her.
She shook her head.
No.
Roman said:
“You won’t get it.”
Victor sighed.
“Then Patrick Higgins becomes an unfortunate consequence of his own bad decisions.”
Claire grabbed the phone.
“My father is not your property.”
Silence.
Then Victor laughed softly.
“Claire Higgins.”
Her skin crawled.
“I’ve heard about you.”
“I don’t care.”
“Your father said you’d be difficult.”
“My father is right occasionally.”
Roman almost smiled.
Victor continued:
“You should ask Roman why he really researched you before acquiring your company.”
Claire looked at Roman.
His expression hardened.
Victor said:
“He didn’t simply want Higgins Freight.”
Then the line went dead.
Claire stared at Roman.
“What does that mean?”
Roman took the phone back.
“Victor lies.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“No.”
“What did you want?”
Roman looked toward the ocean.
For the first time, he appeared uncomfortable.
Then he said:
May you like
“You.”
Claire forgot about breathing.
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