Chapter 7 - The Country House
They left Manhattan after midnight.
Adrian drove.
Evelyn sat beside Clara in the back of the SUV.
Marcus followed in another vehicle with two private security officers.
Vanessa and Victor remained with police for questioning.
Clara stared through the dark windows as city lights disappeared behind them.
She still wore her maid uniform.
The absurdity almost made her laugh.
Six hours earlier, her greatest concern had been whether the head caterer would notice a wine stain on her apron.
Now she was traveling toward a country estate with one of the wealthiest families in America to retrieve possible evidence of financial fraud and attempted coercion.
Adrian looked at her through the mirror.
“You can go home.”
Clara met his eyes.
“Mrs. Beaumont asked me to come.”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“I did.”
Adrian nodded.
“Then you’re coming.”
Twenty minutes later, he spoke again.
“Why did you stop Vanessa?”
Clara frowned.
“What?”
“You knew she could have you fired.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she could make it difficult for you to find another job.”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
Clara looked at Evelyn.
“Because nobody else moved.”
Adrian looked forward again.
That answer seemed to trouble him.
Evelyn squeezed Clara’s hand.
“My husband used to say character is what people do when helping costs them something.”
Clara smiled.
“My mother says almost the same thing.”
They reached the Beaumont country house at 1:06 a.m.
The estate sat behind iron gates forty miles north of Manhattan.
Stone walls.
Tall windows.
Dark woods surrounding the property.
Daniel had sent security ahead.
The house was supposed to be empty.
It wasn’t.
A light moved behind an upstairs window.
Adrian stopped the SUV.
“Stay here.”
Clara looked up.
The light disappeared.
Marcus arrived.
Security entered through the front.
A minute later, shouting echoed from inside.
Someone ran through the rear garden.
Clara saw the figure first.
“There!”
A man sprinted toward the woods.
Security chased him.
Adrian ran after them.
Evelyn grabbed Clara’s sleeve.
“My room.”
“What?”
“Someone is after the box.”
Clara looked toward the mansion.
The front door stood open.
Adrian had told them to remain outside.
But Evelyn was right.
If another person was inside, every second mattered.
Clara pushed the wheelchair toward the entrance.
They crossed the foyer.
“Which way?”
“Upstairs.”
Clara hesitated.
“There’s an elevator.”
Evelyn pointed.
They reached the second floor.
Her bedroom door was open.
Drawers had been ripped out.
Clothes covered the floor.
A painting had been removed from the wall.
Evelyn looked horrified.
“The box.”
“Where?”
“Under the window seat.”
Clara rushed toward it.
The wooden panel had already been pried loose.
Inside was an empty cavity.
No box.
Evelyn’s face fell.
“We’re too late.”
Then Clara heard something.
A faint scrape.
Behind them.
She turned.
A shadow moved inside the dressing room.
Clara grabbed the nearest object.
A lamp.
“Come out.”
Nothing.
“Security is downstairs.”
Silence.
Then a woman stepped into view.
She was in her late fifties.
Gray hair.
Mud on her coat.
Tears on her face.
Evelyn gasped.
“Margaret?”
The woman dropped something onto the carpet.
A wooden box.
“I’m sorry.”
Evelyn stared.
Margaret had been her personal housekeeper for seventeen years.
She had disappeared two weeks after the accident.
Adrian had been told she moved to Florida.
Margaret started crying.
“They threatened my grandson.”
Clara lowered the lamp.
“Who?”
Margaret looked toward the doorway.
Then whispered the name.
“Victor Sterling.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
Margaret pushed the wooden box toward her.
“I’ve been hiding this for eight months.”
She looked at the brass key in Clara’s hand.
May you like
“And whatever is inside it is the reason they tried to make your accident permanent.”
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