Chapter 4 - THE BOX MY SISTER WAS AFRAID OF
Jessica stood in the doorway with both hands wrapped around her wedding robe.
For the first time since I came home, she didn't look arrogant.
She looked frightened.
“What box?” I asked.
She glanced at our father.
He closed his eyes.
Jessica swallowed.
“In Grandfather's study.”
I frowned.
“That room was cleared years ago.”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“Dad cleared the room.”
My father looked at her sharply.
“Jessica.”
“You told me it was gone.”
“I told you to forget it.”
She looked at me.
“I didn't.”
Elena Brooks entered before anyone could say more.
She had apparently been listening from the hall.
“Forget what?”
Jessica stared at her.
Then at me.
“The box.”
Elena pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Start at the beginning.”
Jessica sat down.
She looked exhausted.
“Three weeks ago, Andrew took me to the old house.”
“What old house?”
“Grandfather's.”
I felt a strange pressure in my chest.
“He said we were checking wedding inventory.”
Jessica laughed bitterly.
“It wasn't inventory.”
She explained that Andrew had been looking for something in the study.
He opened a wall cabinet.
Behind an old photograph was a narrow compartment.
Inside was a metal box.
“He told me not to touch it.”
“What was in it?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at her.
“You saw it.”
“I saw papers.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
She looked down.
“Because Andrew told me you were unstable.”
My jaw tightened.
“He told me you were difficult. That you'd been having problems overseas. That you were angry all the time.”
Jessica's eyes filled.
“I believed him.”
That hurt more than I expected.
Not because I trusted Jessica.
Because part of me still remembered when she was twelve and slept beside my bed during thunderstorms.
Elena asked, “Did Andrew take anything?”
Jessica nodded.
“A photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“Grandfather with three men.”
She described it.
I knew immediately.
A black-and-white photograph taken outside an airfield in 1987.
My grandfather stood beside two government officials and a younger Richard Vale.
I had seen it once in an old family album.
Elena's expression hardened.
“Where is the photograph now?”
“Andrew has it.”
My father suddenly stood.
“We're not involving the wedding.”
I stared at him.
“Dad, people nearly killed me.”
“No one is trying to kill you.”
Elena looked at him.
“Then explain why a classified federal asset was bleeding in an emergency department after her family refused lifesaving treatment.”
My father had no answer.
A few minutes later, Elena arranged for me to be moved to a secure consultation room.
Jessica came with us.
She carried a small velvet pouch.
“What is that?” I asked.
She opened it.
Inside was my grandmother's rosary.
I hadn't seen it since her funeral.
Jessica touched the beads.
“I found it in Andrew's office.”
I looked at her.
“Why would he have Grandma's rosary?”
“I don't know.”
Then she pulled a folded photograph from the pouch.
It was old.
Bent.
Stained around the edges.
I recognized the people immediately.
My grandfather.
Richard Vale.
And my father.
But there was a fourth person.
A young woman.
My mother.
I stared at the picture.
My mother had always said she met my father after college.
The photograph was dated two years before that.
“Mom knew him.”
Jessica whispered, “I think she knew all of them.”
My father sat down.
His shoulders dropped.
“I wanted to protect you.”
“From the truth?”
“Yes.”
“What truth?”
He looked at Elena.
Then at me.
“Your grandfather wasn't simply a businessman.”
Nobody spoke.
“He worked with the government on sensitive technology contracts.”
My stomach tightened.
“He discovered that someone was diverting restricted equipment through private companies.”
“Richard Vale?”
My father nodded.
“But your grandfather couldn't prove it.”
“So he kept evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
My father looked at the brass key.
“Inside a safety box.”
“Where?”
He hesitated.
“At the wedding venue.”
My heart sank.
“Why would you move it there?”
“I didn't.”
My mother suddenly entered.
Her face was pale.
“I did.”
Everyone turned.
She looked at me.
“I thought I was protecting Jessica.”
I stared at her.
“What did you put there?”
“A second box.”
She sat down.
“Your grandfather gave me instructions before he died.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew your father was afraid.”
She reached into her purse.
And removed a small envelope.
There was no name on it.
Only one sentence in my grandfather's handwriting:
IF SHE EVER COMES HOME BLEEDING, OPEN THIS.
My hands trembled.
Elena stopped me.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know whether it's safe.”
She took the envelope.
Under ultraviolet light, something appeared across the paper.
A second message.
Not written by my grandfather.
Written in red ink.
ELENA BROOKS IS NOT WHO YOU THINK SHE IS.
I looked up.
Elena's face had gone completely still.
May you like
Then the lights in the building flickered.
And every federal agent in the corridor reached for a weapon.
