Chapter 15 - The Woman in Black
The woman waited outside like she had all night.
Harold had moved away from the windows.
“Don't open that door.”
I looked at him.
“You're the one who said she'd come.”
“I said she'd come.”
“That isn't the same as letting her in.”
“No.”
His voice became quieter.
“It's worse.”
Caroline took the silver key from the windowsill where the woman had left it.
She studied it.
“There are initials.”
I looked.
J.V.
Jonathan Vale.
Evelyn stepped backward.
“She shouldn't have that.”
“Why?”
“That key was given to my mother before she disappeared.”
Mark frowned.
“What does it open?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I don't know.”
The woman knocked.
“Hannah.”
I stared at the door.
“Who are you?”
A pause.
“My name is Margaret Carter.”
My heart stopped.
Mark looked at Denise.
Denise whispered, “No.”
Margaret continued.
“I was married to Thomas's older brother.”
Caroline's face changed.
“I thought you died.”
Margaret laughed softly.
“That's what I needed everyone to believe.”
The room went silent.
I opened the door.
Harold grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.”
I looked at him.
“I'm tired of being afraid of people who already know where I live.”
I opened it.
Margaret stepped inside.
Up close, she looked older than in the photographs, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
She had my father's eyes.
Not exactly.
But close enough to make my stomach turn.
She looked at me.
“You have his eyes.”
“I've heard that before.”
“Of course you have.”
Her gaze moved to Evelyn.
“My God.”
Evelyn couldn't speak.
Margaret crossed the room.
“You survived.”
Evelyn whispered, “You knew?”
“I hoped.”
“You let everyone think you were dead.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To stay alive.”
Margaret looked at the others.
“Every person in this room has lied to Hannah.”
Caroline crossed her arms.
“Not me.”
Margaret looked at her.
“You helped create the surveillance list.”
Caroline's face tightened.
“I was trying to identify the source.”
“You were paid to monitor the family.”
“I stopped.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Margaret looked at me.
“She isn't innocent.”
“I know.”
Margaret gave the smallest smile.
“Good.”
I held up the ledger.
“You know what's in this.”
“Yes.”
“You know who controls the family.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
She looked at Evelyn.
“Not until she tells you about Jonathan.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“I don't know enough.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“You know enough.”
Mark looked at Evelyn.
“Tell us.”
Evelyn's breathing became shaky.
“My mother was married before Thomas.”
“To Jonathan?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“He disappeared.”
“Died?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“Then where is he?”
Evelyn whispered:
“In a federal prison.”
Harold looked away.
Caroline stared.
“For what?”
“Fraud.”
Margaret shook her head.
“That's the official story.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What is the real story?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Jonathan discovered money laundering inside the Carter family foundation.”
My chest tightened.
“By Harold?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Margaret answered quietly.
“Your father.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“He found it.”
“You just said Jonathan discovered it.”
“He discovered the operation. Thomas discovered who was controlling it.”
“Who?”
Margaret's eyes met mine.
“Your grandmother.”
I couldn't breathe.
My grandmother had been dead for thirteen years.
She had always been remembered as a quiet woman.
The kind who baked on Sundays and knitted sweaters nobody wanted.
Margaret continued.
“She built the foundation structure.”
“Why?”
“To move money.”
“Where?”
“Out of the country.”
Mark shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
“It didn't to Thomas either.”
Margaret looked at the ledger.
“Until he found the names.”
She walked to the table.
“The twenty guests.”
I nodded.
“They weren't the beginning.”
“What were they?”
“The next generation.”
I looked down at the list.
“They've been paid for years.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“To preserve the story.”
“What story?”
“That the Carter family owned this property through the trust.”
I looked at the deed.
“But why?”
Margaret pointed to the floor.
“Because the property isn't valuable.”
I laughed bitterly.
“The house is worth millions.”
“That isn't what I mean.”
She leaned closer.
“There's something under this land worth more.”
I remembered my father's recording.
What was beneath it.
“What?”
Margaret looked at Evelyn.
“The archive.”
Evelyn's face went pale.
Margaret nodded.
“The archive contains the original financial records.”
Caroline whispered, “Enough to bring down half the foundation's beneficiaries.”
Margaret nodded.
“And several people outside the family.”
Mark asked, “Why didn't they just destroy it?”
“Because Thomas moved it.”
“To where?”
Margaret looked at me.
“To the house.”
I looked at the floor.
“In the room?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
She held up the silver key.
“This opens it.”
She walked toward the library.
We followed.
Margaret stopped beside the wall where the hidden staircase had opened.
“There is another entrance.”
She pressed a stone near the baseboard.
Nothing happened.
She pressed another.
A small panel opened.
Behind it was a keyhole.
I handed her the silver key.
She inserted it.
The wall clicked.
A section of paneling shifted sideways.
Behind it was a narrow room.
Not the underground archive.
A smaller chamber.
Inside was a desk.
A chair.
And a tape recorder.
Margaret looked at me.
“Your father recorded everything.”
I entered first.
The desk drawer was unlocked.
Inside were twelve audio tapes.
Each was numbered.
1 through 12.
The first eleven were dated.
The twelfth had tomorrow's date.
December 1.
My fingers went numb.
“He knew,” I whispered.
Margaret nodded.
“He knew this day was coming.”
I picked up Tape 12.
Mark looked at me.
“Play it.”
I pressed the button.
My father's voice filled the room.
“Hannah, if this is playing, then you have found Margaret.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
He continued.
“She will tell you I knew about Jonathan.”
Margaret looked away.
“She will also tell you about my mother.”
A pause.
“You may believe her.”
My heart pounded.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
“But do not believe her when she says she came to save you.”
Margaret stiffened.
The tape continued.
“She has another reason.”
The recording clicked.
Then my father's voice became softer.
“Margaret, I'm sorry.”
The tape ended.
Nobody moved.
I turned.
Margaret was crying.
“What does he mean?”
She wiped her face.
“I did come to save you.”
“Then what is the other reason?”
She looked at the silver key.
“I need something your father left here.”
“What?”
“The original account book.”
“You mean the red ledger?”
“No.”
She pointed to the desk.
“The black ledger.”
My stomach dropped.
“There are two?”
“Yes.”
“What does the black ledger contain?”
Margaret looked directly at me.
“Names of the people who ordered the deaths.”
A loud crash came from upstairs.
Mark ran toward the door.
Then we heard a scream.
Denise.
I ran.
When I reached the library, Denise was on the floor.
Blood covered one hand.
The red ledger was gone.
May you like
And on the wall, written in fresh black ink, were five words.
ONE LEDGER WAS ALWAYS A DECOY.
