Chapter 4 - WHAT VINCENT NEVER TOLD HER
Vincent refused to go to the hospital.
Amelia refused to let him drive.
They compromised by having a private doctor meet them at the diner.
The bullet had only grazed his shoulder.
The wound was painful but not dangerous.
Amelia sat across from him while the doctor wrapped the injury.
“You're lucky,” she said.
Vincent nodded.
“I've been told that before.”
After the doctor left, silence filled the office.
Amelia placed the photograph on the desk.
“You knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Raymond.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I didn't know who you were.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
She stood.
“My father disappeared fourteen years ago.”
“I know.”
“You knew he was investigating your company.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Raymond worked for him.”
“No.”
She stared.
“Then why was he in the photograph?”
Vincent looked down.
“Because Raymond was working for someone who was watching your father.”
“Who?”
Vincent hesitated.
“My brother.”
Amelia froze.
“You have a brother?”
“I had one.”
“What happened?”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Fourteen years ago.”
“How?”
Vincent looked toward the window.
“Officially? A boating accident.”
“And unofficially?”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“He was murdered.”
Amelia sat down again.
“Why?”
“Because he found the same accounts your father found.”
“Whose accounts?”
Vincent leaned forward.
“The Calder name was being used to move money.”
“By whom?”
“My brother believed it was someone inside our family.”
Amelia's eyes narrowed.
“And you?”
“I believed him.”
“Then why didn't you go to the police?”
“Because the first detective we contacted disappeared.”
Amelia felt cold.
“How many people were involved?”
“I don't know.”
“But you suspected someone.”
Vincent nodded.
“Who?”
“My uncle.”
Amelia stared.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Florida.”
“Then why haven't you confronted him?”
“Because I don't know if he's guilty.”
Amelia laughed bitterly.
“Everyone around me keeps saying they don't know.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I know.”
“You don't.”
“I know what it feels like to discover your entire family has secrets.”
She looked at him.
“What happened to your parents?”
“My father died before the investigation ended.”
“And your mother?”
“She refused to speak about it.”
Amelia lowered her eyes.
“My mother did the same.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Maybe they were trying to protect us.”
“Or themselves.”
“Both can be true.”
She didn't answer.
The next morning, Detective Reed arrived.
He placed a folder on the table.
“Raymond Fletcher has resurfaced.”
Amelia looked up.
“Where?”
“Security footage from a gas station in Queens.”
“Can you track him?”
“Not yet.”
Vincent asked, “What else?”
Reed opened another file.
“Derek Lawson received $10,000 three days before the assault.”
Amelia's face tightened.
“From Raymond?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“A company called Blackwater Security.”
Vincent's expression changed.
“That's not a security company.”
Reed looked at him.
“You know it?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“A private intelligence firm.”
Reed frowned.
“Who owns it?”
Vincent said nothing.
Amelia looked at him.
“Vincent.”
He finally answered.
“My uncle.”
They drove to Florida two days later.
Vincent's uncle, Arthur Calder, lived inside a gated estate outside Palm Beach.
He was seventy-one.
Elegant.
Friendly.
And immediately suspicious.
When he saw Amelia, his smile disappeared.
“You shouldn't have brought her.”
Vincent stopped.
“What do you know about her?”
Arthur looked at Amelia.
“Thomas Hayes was a dangerous man.”
Amelia stepped forward.
“You knew my father?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Arthur looked at Vincent.
“Your father was close to discovering who was controlling the money.”
“Who?”
Arthur shook his head.
“I never learned.”
“You're lying.”
Arthur's expression hardened.
“Your father trusted the wrong person.”
“Who?”
“He trusted Raymond.”
Amelia froze.
Vincent looked at Arthur.
“That's impossible.”
“Raymond was the one who convinced Thomas to meet someone at the warehouse.”
“What warehouse?”
Arthur looked at Amelia.
“The same warehouse where your father disappeared.”
They found the warehouse abandoned.
Dust covered the floor.
Rust covered the doors.
But behind a false wall, they found a room.
Inside was a desk.
A chair.
And dozens of photographs.
Amelia picked up the first.
Her father.
Another.
Vincent's brother.
Another.
Raymond.
Then one photograph made her stop.
She was twelve years old.
Standing outside her father's office.
A man stood behind her.
She recognized him.
Arthur Calder.
She turned.
“You were watching me.”
Arthur had followed them.
He stood in the doorway.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
Amelia stared.
“My father trusted you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you let everyone believe he abandoned us?”
Arthur's face changed.
“Because he was dead.”
Amelia's knees weakened.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Who killed him?”
Arthur looked at Vincent.
“Your brother.”
Vincent froze.
“What?”
Arthur's voice broke.
“Your brother killed Thomas Hayes.”
Silence.
Amelia stared at him.
“No.”
Arthur continued.
“Not because he wanted to.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Explain.”
“He was forced.”
“By whom?”
Arthur looked toward the doorway.
Then whispered,
May you like
“Your mother.”
Vincent's face went white.
