Chapter 4 - The Secret Her Mother Took To The Grave
Two months passed.
Nothing happened.
No attacks.
No threats.
No strange cars.
Cora almost began to believe it was over.
Then her father disappeared.
Raymond Whitaker didn't come home after gambling.
Cora filed a missing-person report.
The police said they'd wait twenty-four hours.
She couldn't.
She searched every bar.
Every betting shop.
Every cheap motel.
Finally, a bookmaker gave her a name.
Julian Voss.
Cora laughed.
"No."
The bookmaker shrugged.
"Your father owed him."
"My father didn't know him."
"Apparently he did."
Cora left.
She drove to the Voss estate.
Security stopped her at the gate.
"I'm here to see Julian."
"He isn't receiving visitors."
"Tell him Cora Whitaker is here."
The guard looked at her.
Then picked up his phone.
Thirty seconds later, the gate opened.
Julian was waiting inside.
He was wearing a black shirt.
No tie.
He looked tired.
"What happened?"
"My father is missing."
Julian's face changed.
"When?"
"Last night."
"Why come to me?"
"Because someone said he owed you money."
Julian's eyes narrowed.
"I told Tomas not to tell you."
"Tell me the truth."
He hesitated.
"Your father didn't owe me."
"Then who?"
"Gabriel Marlowe."
Cora felt cold.
"Your enemy."
"Yes."
"What does he want?"
Julian looked at her.
"You."
"Me?"
"Your mother."
Cora's expression changed.
"She's dead."
"Yes."
"What does she have to do with Gabriel?"
"Everything."
Julian led her inside.
The mansion was enormous.
But unlike every wealthy home Cora had seen in movies, it wasn't glamorous.
It was controlled.
Quiet.
Every door had a lock.
Every hallway had cameras.
Every room seemed prepared for war.
Julian took her to his study.
He opened a safe.
Inside was an old photograph.
He handed it to her.
Cora nearly dropped it.
Her mother.
Standing beside a younger Julian.
Her mother was wearing a hospital uniform.
Julian looked fifteen years younger.
And beside them stood a little girl.
"Who is she?"
"My sister."
Cora looked at him.
"What happened?"
"She died."
"I'm sorry."
"My father blamed the hospital."
Cora studied the photograph.
There was something familiar about the little girl.
"Why did my mother know your family?"
Julian's voice lowered.
"Your mother treated my sister."
Cora shook her head.
"She never told me."
"Because she wasn't supposed to."
"Supposed to what?"
Julian opened another drawer.
Inside was a letter.
"Your mother discovered something."
Cora read the first line.
She stopped breathing.
It was her mother's handwriting.
Julian watched her.
"What did she discover?"
Cora read silently.
Then looked up.
"My mother knew about the auction network."
Julian nodded.
"She knew who was laundering the money."
"Who?"
"Gabriel Marlowe."
Cora's hands trembled.
"Why would my mother keep this?"
"Because she had proof."
"What proof?"
Julian stared at the letter.
"An account book."
"Where is it?"
"Nobody knows."
Cora remembered something.
A tin box.
Her mother used to keep one in the kitchen.
After her death, her father had told Cora it was empty.
But Cora suddenly remembered something strange.
Her mother had hidden it under the floor.
She looked at Julian.
"I know where it is."
They drove to Brooklyn.
Cora unlocked the apartment.
She found the old floorboard.
Pried it open.
The tin box was still there.
Inside was a photograph.
A key.
And a folded piece of paper.
Julian took it.
His face changed.
"What's wrong?"
He turned it over.
Written on the back was a single sentence.
If anything happens to me, protect my daughter.
Julian stared at Cora.
Her mother had not written it for anyone.
She had written it for him.
And suddenly, twenty-seven years of secrets began to make sense.
Cora wasn't simply a witness.
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She was the daughter of the woman who had once saved Julian's sister.
And someone had been protecting her from the beginning.
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