Chapter 4 - Fire in the West Wing
Smoke reached the ceiling in seconds.
Raymond grabbed the heavy curtains and ripped them from the rod.
Brooks kicked at the door.
It did not move.
“Solid oak.”
Raymond coughed.
“This wing was built before people cared whether houses turned into coffins.”
Naomi looked toward the window.
Third floor.
A stone terrace sat below, but the drop was still nearly twenty feet.
The fire spread from beneath the desk.
Old wood caught fast.
Adrian wrapped Evelyn’s letter inside his jacket.
“The safe.”
Brooks turned.
“What?”
“Close it.”
Naomi understood.
The ledger had already been bagged.
So had the flash drive.
But the safe itself might contain prints.
She slammed the door shut.
Raymond threw the fallen curtain over the flames.
It slowed them.
Not enough.
Naomi ran to the bathroom attached to the room.
She turned both faucets.
Water came out brown for two seconds.
Then clear.
She soaked towels.
Brooks covered her mouth.
“Fire department is coming.”
“How long?”
“Too long if this door doesn’t open.”
Adrian rammed his shoulder into it.
Nothing.
Raymond joined him.
The frame groaned.
Again.
Nothing.
Naomi looked at the old wardrobe.
“Move that.”
Raymond glanced at her.
“What?”
“Against the door.”
“We’re trying to get out.”
“I know.”
“Then why block it?”
“Because whoever locked it might come back.”
Brooks understood.
“If they think the fire didn’t finish us.”
Naomi nodded.
They shoved the wardrobe sideways.
Then Naomi heard something beneath the smoke alarm.
A mechanical hum.
She looked toward the ceiling.
The air-conditioning vent.
“Raymond.”
He followed her gaze.
“The service duct.”
“Large enough?”
“For a person?”
“Yes.”
Brooks looked skeptical.
“In 1911?”
“This house has been renovated six times.”
Raymond dragged the writing chair beneath the vent.
He climbed.
Removed two screws with his pocketknife.
The grille came loose.
Smoke poured upward.
“Naomi.”
He pointed.
“You’re smallest.”
She climbed.
Adrian objected.
“No.”
Naomi looked down.
“You have a better idea?”
He didn’t.
She pulled herself into the duct.
Metal scraped her elbows.
The shaft was narrow.
Dark.
Hot.
She crawled.
Behind her, someone coughed violently.
Naomi pushed faster.
The duct split after twelve feet.
She knew the layout.
Left led toward the adjacent dressing room.
Right toward the old linen closet.
She went right.
The grille beneath her appeared.
She kicked.
Once.
Twice.
It fell.
Naomi dropped into the linen closet.
Her ankle twisted.
Pain shot upward.
She ignored it.
She opened the closet door.
The west hallway was empty.
Smoke was already seeping beneath the blue room door.
Naomi ran.
The outer latch had been secured with a brass fire bolt.
Not locked.
Bolted.
Someone had deliberately trapped them.
She threw it open.
Adrian and Raymond shoved the wardrobe aside.
Brooks emerged first.
Then Raymond.
Then Adrian.
The fire alarm screamed throughout the mansion.
Sprinklers finally activated.
Water exploded from the ceiling.
Naomi looked down the corridor.
At the far end, a figure disappeared around the corner.
Dark jacket.
Medium height.
Naomi ran after them.
“Naomi!”
Brooks shouted.
She kept going.
The figure reached the service stairs.
Naomi saw one hand grab the railing.
A gold signet ring flashed.
Then the person disappeared.
Naomi reached the stairwell.
Empty.
Only an outer door swinging downstairs.
Brooks caught up.
“Did you see who it was?”
“No.”
“Man or woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you see?”
Naomi looked at her.
“A ring.”
“What kind?”
“Gold.”
“Anything on it?”
“A crest.”
Adrian arrived behind them.
His breathing stopped.
“What crest?”
Naomi turned.
“A bird.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“What bird?”
“Maybe an eagle.”
Raymond stepped into the stairwell.
Adrian looked at him.
Raymond looked away.
Naomi noticed.
“What?”
Adrian demanded.
Raymond remained silent.
“Raymond.”
“The Vale family crest is a falcon.”
Naomi stared.
Adrian’s face hardened.
Only three men regularly wore the old Vale signet ring.
Adrian.
His uncle Theodore.
And his cousin Marcus.
Adrian looked down at his own bare hand.
He had stopped wearing his ring years ago.
Theodore Vale was seventy-nine and walked with a cane.
That left Marcus.
Adrian whispered the name.
“Marcus.”
Naomi remembered Evelyn’s ledger.
M.V.
Brooks looked from one face to another.
“Who is Marcus?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“My cousin.”
“What does he do?”
“He sits on Vale Meridian’s board.”
“Relationship with your mother?”
“Complicated.”
Raymond snorted.
Adrian glared.
“Say it.”
Raymond sighed.
“Mrs. Vale blocked Marcus from becoming company president eight years ago.”
Brooks wrote it down.
“Reason?”
“Evelyn thought he was reckless.”
Adrian looked toward the smoke.
“My mother thinks everybody is reckless.”
Naomi corrected him.
“She thought Marcus was dangerous.”
Adrian stared.
Naomi continued.
“She told me once.”
“When?”
“After the Singapore acquisition.”
Adrian remembered.
Marcus had pushed Vale Meridian toward a leveraged deal that later collapsed.
Evelyn had fought it.
Marcus had never forgiven her.
Brooks reached for her radio.
“I want the grounds locked down.”
Raymond answered immediately.
“Already doing it.”
“What vehicles left?”
“I’ll check.”
Naomi looked toward the soaked blue room.
The flash drive.
She turned.
“Where’s the evidence?”
Brooks touched her coat.
“Ledger and drive are with me.”
Naomi exhaled.
Someone had set fire to a hundred-year-old wing of the house to destroy those items.
That meant they mattered.
They returned downstairs.
Firefighters flooded the west wing.
Staff gathered in the courtyard.
Celeste stood beneath an umbrella.
Perfectly dry.
Naomi noticed that first.
Adrian noticed something else.
Marcus Vale stood beside her.
Forty-one.
Tall.
Immaculate navy suit.
Gold Vale signet ring on his right hand.
Naomi stopped.
Marcus smiled.
“Adrian.”
Adrian crossed the courtyard.
“What are you doing here?”
Marcus’s smile faded.
“I heard about Aunt Evelyn.”
“From whom?”
“Celeste.”
Adrian looked at Celeste.
She raised both palms.
“I called family.”
“When?”
“After the ambulance left.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“What happened to you?”
Adrian’s jacket was streaked with soot.
“Someone locked us in the blue room and set it on fire.”
For the first time, Marcus’s expression slipped.
Only slightly.
“The blue room?”
Naomi saw it.
He knew exactly which room Adrian meant.
Brooks saw it too.
Marcus recovered.
“This house has a blue room?”
Naomi stepped forward.
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at her.
Their eyes met.
Naomi lowered her gaze deliberately toward his hand.
The signet ring.
Marcus followed her eyes.
Then slowly closed his fingers into a fist.
Celeste spoke.
“Detective, are we seriously standing here while the woman who assaulted me walks freely around the property?”
Brooks looked at her.
“We’re investigating an attempted homicide and an arson.”
Celeste’s face tightened.
“Attempted homicide?”
Adrian turned toward her.
“My mother left me a letter.”
Naomi wished he had not said it.
Celeste went completely still.
“What letter?”
Adrian stared.
“One naming you.”
Silence.
Marcus looked at Celeste.
That look lasted less than a second.
But Naomi caught it.
Not surprise.
Warning.
Celeste’s eyes filled with tears.
Again.
“Your mother hated me.”
“She didn’t.”
“She never wanted us together.”
“She organized our engagement dinner.”
“She tolerated me because she loved you.”
Adrian’s voice hardened.
“She knew your real name.”
Marcus’s expression changed.
Celeste’s did not.
That frightened Naomi more.
Celeste whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
“Crane.”
The courtyard seemed to freeze.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Celeste Crane.”
Marcus looked down.
Celeste stared at Adrian.
Then she laughed.
Not loudly.
Not hysterically.
A single broken sound.
“You found out.”
Adrian’s face collapsed.
Naomi watched something inside him break.
“So it’s true.”
Celeste wiped one tear.
“My mother remarried.”
“That’s your explanation?”
“I was seventeen.”
“You never thought to mention your father was Arthur Crane?”
“You would never have looked at me the same way.”
“Because he stole from my family.”
Celeste’s expression sharpened.
“Your family stole from him.”
Marcus spoke.
“Celeste.”
Too late.
Everyone heard.
Celeste turned on him.
“No.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“Not here.”
She laughed again.
“Why not?”
Brooks watched silently.
Celeste looked at Adrian.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother destroyed my father.”
Adrian stepped back.
“She had him blamed for money he never took.”
“According to whom?”
“My father.”
“He disappeared.”
“He was hunted.”
“He stole millions.”
Celeste’s eyes burned.
“Twenty-two million.”
Naomi remembered Evelyn’s letter.
The exact number.
Celeste continued.
“The other forty-eight million went somewhere else.”
Adrian stared.
“How do you know that?”
Celeste looked at Marcus.
Marcus’s face went pale.
The courtyard became silent.
Adrian followed her gaze.
Then Naomi understood.
Celeste had not come into the Vale family searching blindly.
Someone inside the family had invited her.
Or found her.
Marcus stepped backward.
Brooks spoke quietly.
“Mr. Vale, I’d like you to stay.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then I’m leaving.”
He turned.
Raymond blocked him.
Marcus smiled.
“You should think very carefully.”
Raymond did not move.
Celeste looked at Marcus.
Something passed between them.
Fear.
Anger.
And betrayal.
Then Marcus said something that changed everything.
“You stupid woman.”
Celeste’s face hardened.
He pointed toward Adrian.
“You were supposed to marry him.”
His voice lowered.
“You were never supposed to touch Evelyn.”
Adrian stared.
Naomi felt every piece shift.
Marcus had known about the scheme.
But the pillow had not been part of it.
Celeste had changed the plan.
The question was why.
Before anyone could speak, Marcus reached into his coat.
Raymond moved instantly.
So did Brooks.
“Hands!”
Marcus froze.
His hand emerged slowly.
Not holding a weapon.
Holding a phone.
The screen was lit.
A message had just arrived.
Marcus looked at it.
And for the first time, genuine fear appeared on his face.
Brooks took the phone.
The message contained only six words.
EVELYN IS AWAKE.
SHE IS TALKING.
Marcus whispered something Naomi barely heard.
“That’s impossible.”
Then his phone rang.
The caller ID showed one name.
May you like
DR. VOSS.
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