Chapter 5 - The Wedding Chapel Vault
I called Vincent from the hospital parking lot.
He answered on the first ring.
“Claire.”
“Don’t go to Wisconsin.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“The blue room is a decoy.”
I told him everything Daniel had said.
Not all of it.
I left out the part about Arthur’s shooting until I could say it face to face.
When I mentioned St. Matthew’s, Vincent went quiet.
“That church closed eight years ago,” he said.
“What happened to it?”
“The foundation bought the property.”
Of course it did.
“What is it now?”
“Storage for historical archives.”
I laughed without humor.
“Your family stores secrets in literal archives?”
“Apparently.”
“Can you access it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m flying back.”
“No.”
“Vincent.”
“Stay with Daniel.”
“He told me what I needed.”
“He is dying.”
The words hit harder than his argument.
I looked back toward the hospital.
My father had waited eleven years to see me.
I had been with him less than two hours.
“I’ll stay tonight,” I said.
“Good.”
“But you do nothing until I return.”
“Claire—”
“Nothing.”
He exhaled.
“Fine.”
I did not believe him.
Neither did he.
That evening, I sat beside my father and opened the three letters Vincent had kept from me.
The first had been written four years earlier.
Claire,
I saw your photograph in an article about Marlowe Industries. You looked strong. I wondered if I had any right to be proud.
I nearly stopped reading.
The second letter was two years old.
I learned your mother no longer remembers me most days. Perhaps that is mercy.
I cried then.
Quietly.
Daniel watched without speaking.
The third letter had been written nine months ago.
If you ever learn that I was alive all these years, hate me if you need to. Anger is still a relationship. Silence is worse.
When I finished, I asked the question that had haunted me since childhood.
“Did you ever come back?”
Daniel stared at his hands.
“Three times.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“I came to Chicago three times.”
“When?”
“The first was after two years. I stood across the street from your apartment.”
I could barely breathe.
“You saw us?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you knock?”
“A car was watching the building.”
“The danger was still there.”
“Yes.”
“And the second time?”
“Five years after I left. Your mother was already sick.”
My voice broke.
“She needed you.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And the third?”
“Four years ago.”
The timing chilled me.
“When you contacted Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“Why him?”
“Because Arthur was dead.”
I frowned.
“But you said Arthur was poisoned six years after the shooting.”
“He was.”
“That would mean—”
“Four years ago was when I learned the poison was connected to the old Calder Ridge network.”
I stared at him.
“You think someone killed Arthur to keep the ledgers buried.”
“Yes.”
“And then came after you.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I never proved it.”
“Who did you suspect?”
Daniel looked away.
“Eleanor’s brother.”
I searched my memory.
“Julian Vale?”
“Yes.”
Julian Vale sat on the board of the Marlowe Foundation.
He had toasted Evan’s future less than twenty-four hours earlier.
He had hugged me when I arrived at the gala.
My skin crawled.
“Why him?”
“Because after Eleanor died, Julian inherited her private family trust. Years later, we discovered he had been receiving payments from Calder Ridge.”
“Arthur was paying him?”
“We think so.”
“For what?”
Daniel looked at me.
“To tell Arthur what Eleanor and I were doing.”
I closed my eyes.
“So her own brother betrayed her.”
“Yes.”
“And he still has access to the Marlowe family.”
“Yes.”
“He was at the gala.”
Daniel’s eyes sharpened.
“What happened at the gala?”
I told him about Evan’s proposal.
My rejection.
Vincent’s confession.
The brake line.
The stolen ring box.
When I finished, Daniel struggled upright.
“You need to call Vincent.”
“I already did.”
“No. Call him now.”
“Why?”
“Because Julian knows St. Matthew’s.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“He was Eleanor’s witness at the wedding.”
I called Vincent.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Then Evan called me.
“Claire, where are you?”
“Vermont. Where’s your father?”
“I thought he was with you.”
My pulse spiked.
“No.”
“He left the hospital two hours ago.”
“Where did he go?”
“He said he had a meeting.”
I closed my eyes.
“St. Matthew’s.”
“What?”
“Your father went to the church.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he lied to me.”
Evan was silent for half a second.
Then he said, “I’m going there.”
“No.”
“Interesting. That’s what Dad keeps telling everyone.”
“Evan, someone already tried to kill you.”
“And someone hit him over the head. I’m beginning to think staying home isn’t working.”
He hung up.
I swore.
Daniel looked at me.
“Go.”
I stared at him.
“I just got here.”
“You came for answers.”
“I came for you.”
His face broke.
For the first time, I saw my father instead of the man who had abandoned us.
“Then come back,” he whispered.
I kissed his forehead.
“I will.”
The next flight to Chicago landed just after midnight.
I went straight to St. Matthew’s.
The old church stood dark between two modern office towers.
One side entrance was open.
Inside, dust covered the pews.
Moonlight fell through stained glass.
I heard voices near the altar.
Vincent.
Evan.
And a third man.
Julian Vale.
I moved closer.
Julian held a gun.
Vincent stood in front of Evan.
Protecting him.
“Give me the key,” Julian said.
“We don’t have it,” Vincent replied.
Julian smiled.
“That’s unfortunate.”
May you like
Then he looked toward the darkness where I stood.
“Because Claire does.”
