Chapter 14 - The Secret in the Cellar
"We have to take this to Morales," Adrian said, his voice rising, panic edging into the timbre. "Naomi, give it to me. We’ll call him now."
"No," Naomi said, closing the book with a dry snap that sounded like a bone breaking. "Morales works for the county. The county judges dine at the Somerset Club with your family’s trustees. If this goes into an evidence room before the state attorney sees it, it will vanish the way Clara vanished."
"What are you saying?"
"I’m saying your father didn't act alone," she said, looking Adrian square in the eyes. Her gaze was completely steady, stripped of all deference, stripped of the eleven years of *yes, ma'am* and *right away, Mr. Adrian.* "Your father had partners. And one of them was the man who signed Bianca’s bail bond two hours ago."
Adrian’s mouth fell open. "She got bail? On attempted murder?"
"Her uncle is Judge Sterling Vance," Naomi said. "I saw his name on the visitor log at the front desk when I came through the lobby this morning. He was waiting in the private corridor. You think Bianca was alone in this house because she snuck in through a cellar window? Someone gave her the alarm bypass code, Adrian. The security system in this house was upgraded three months ago. Only three people had that code: your mother, you, and the head of the trust."
"Sterling," Adrian whispered, the color draining from his face until his skin looked like wet chalk. "He’s been managing our portfolios since my father had his stroke."
"And he knows you found the notebook," a voice said from the top of the service stairs.
Naomi did not flinch. She had heard the subtle creak of the third step three seconds before the voice spoke. She slipped the oilcloth notebook into the wide pocket of her skirt and turned slowly.
Standing on the threshold was not Judge Vance, but Thomas, the head gardener who had tended the grounds for twenty-five years—a man who lived in the cottage by the south gate and rarely spoke to anyone except to ask for more bone meal or lime for the hydrangeas. He was holding an antique brass key, the kind that opened the heavy iron storm cellar behind the scullery.
"You shouldn't have dug under that cabinet, Naomi," Thomas said, his voice flat, dry as old mulch. "Mrs. Vale told me thirty years ago that if anyone ever touched that baseboard, I was to lock the lower doors and wait for Sterling."
"Thomas," Adrian stepped between them, his voice shaking with fury. "Are you insane? My mother was almost killed in this bed two nights ago!"
May you like
"I don't work for your mother, boy," Thomas said calmly. "I worked for your father. And when your father died, my pension remained with the trust. The Judge is in the library downstairs. He wants the book. And he wants to talk to Naomi alone."
***
