Chapter 1 - THE FLOORBOARDS MY WIFE NEVER WANTED ME TO OPEN
I came home two hours early and knew something was wrong before I had even closed the front door.
The house was too quiet.
Not peaceful.
Wrong.
My seven-year-old daughter, Lily, was cowering against the kitchen cabinets in a pale yellow sweatshirt and denim shorts, tears streaking both cheeks.
My nine-year-old son, Ethan, was curled beneath the kitchen table with his knees pulled to his chest.
Angry red welts crossed one forearm.
Standing between my children was my wife, Vanessa.
She wore a cream silk dress.
In her right hand was a wooden ruler.
She raised it.
“Daddy!”
Lily’s scream broke something inside me.
I crossed the kitchen in seconds and caught Vanessa’s wrist before the ruler came down.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Vanessa yanked away.
“They wouldn’t listen.”
Her calmness frightened me more than shouting would have.
“Someone has to teach them respect.”
“They’re children.”
Ethan crawled from beneath the table and wrapped both arms around my leg.
I dropped to my knees and pulled him close.
Lily ran into my other arm.
For several seconds, neither child could speak.
Then Lily pressed her mouth beside my ear.
“Daddy… Vanessa said Mom knew something before she died.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
My first wife, Claire, had died three years earlier.
A car accident on Route 41.
Rain.
A curve.
A damaged guardrail.
Police told me she lost control.
I had accepted the explanation because grief gives you very little energy for questions.
“What did Vanessa say?”
Lily trembled.
“She said Mom found documents.”
Vanessa went completely still.
“What documents?” I asked.
Lily pointed toward the hallway.
“The ones under your office floor.”
Vanessa’s face lost its color.
I looked at her.
“Is that true?”
“Children misunderstand things.”
“Did you tell Lily there were documents under my office?”
“No.”
Lily cried harder.
“She did!”
Vanessa reached toward the phone on the counter.
I stepped between them.
“Who are you calling?”
“No one.”
“Then leave the phone alone.”
For the first time, fear entered her expression.
That was when I remembered Claire’s words.
Six days before she died, we had been standing in our bedroom while I packed for a business trip.
She seemed distracted.
“If anything ever happens to me, promise me you’ll protect Lily and Ethan.”
I laughed nervously.
“Nothing is going to happen.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
I thought she was being anxious.
Now I wondered if she had been warning me.
I told Vanessa to stay in the kitchen.
She refused.
“I’m your wife, Nathan.”
“Then explain why my children are terrified of you.”
“They misbehaved.”
Ethan whispered, “She said if we told you, she’d send us away.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She stared back.
No denial.
I called my sister Rachel and asked her to come immediately.
Then I photographed Ethan’s arm.
Vanessa finally became angry.
“You’re making this look worse than it is.”
I turned.
“That sentence usually means it’s exactly as bad as it looks.”
When Rachel arrived, I left the children with her and walked toward my study.
Vanessa followed.
“Nathan, don’t.”
I stopped.
“You just told me Lily imagined it.”
“She did.”
“Then why don’t you want me checking?”
Silence.
My study had hardwood floors installed before Claire and I bought the house.
I had worked there nearly every night for twelve years.
I knew every shelf.
Every scratch.
Every loose drawer.
Or I thought I did.
Near the back wall, beneath a heavy bookcase, one floorboard looked slightly darker.
I pulled the bookcase away.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Nathan.”
“Stay back.”
Using a flat screwdriver, I lifted the board.
Underneath was a narrow cavity.
Inside lay a waterproof document pouch.
Vanessa whispered, “Oh, God.”
I looked at her.
“You knew.”
She backed toward the doorway.
I opened the pouch.
There were bank statements.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
A folded letter.
And an envelope with my name written in Claire’s handwriting.
My hands started shaking.
NATHAN—IF YOU FIND THIS, DO NOT TRUST THE ACCIDENT REPORT.
I stopped breathing.
Vanessa turned and ran.
Rachel shouted from the kitchen.
I heard the front door.
By the time I reached the porch, Vanessa was backing her SUV out of the driveway.
I memorized the plate even though I already knew it.
Then I called 911.
Back inside, I sat at my desk and opened Claire’s letter.
Nathan,
I hope you never read this.
If you are reading it, then I either failed to tell you the truth or someone stopped me.
Three months ago, I began reviewing the accounts for Mercer Family Foundation after Vanessa asked me to help reconcile donor records.
I found payments that did not belong there.
I frowned.
Vanessa had known Claire?
They had supposedly met for the first time at a charity event nearly a year after Claire’s death.
Claire continued.
The money is being routed through shell companies connected to someone you know.
Someone you trust.
I have copied everything.
If anything happens to me, give the files to Detective Aaron Pierce.
Do not give them to anyone else.
I looked up.
Aaron Pierce had investigated Claire’s fatal crash.
He had been the detective who sat in my living room and told me there was no evidence of foul play.
My stomach turned.
Why would Claire tell me to trust the same detective?
Then I saw a line she had added at the bottom.
If Aaron says I died in an accident, assume he has already been compromised.
I stared at it.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man spoke quietly.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Thomas Reed. I used to work with your late wife.”
“What do you want?”
He hesitated.
“I heard Vanessa ran.”
My blood went cold.
“How do you know Vanessa?”
“Because three years ago, Claire discovered Vanessa was stealing money.”
I stood.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Claire wasn’t investigating Vanessa alone.”
“Who else?”
Thomas lowered his voice.
“Your brother.”
The room seemed to tilt.
My older brother, Michael Carter, had been the person who introduced me to Vanessa two years after Claire died.
Thomas continued.
“Claire believed Michael and Vanessa were working together.”
“Doing what?”
“Moving millions through the foundation.”
I gripped the desk.
“And Claire’s accident?”
Silence.
Then Thomas said:
“Nathan, Claire called me ten minutes before she died.”
“What did she say?”
“She said Michael had found out she copied the files.”
My mouth went dry.
“And then?”
Thomas exhaled.
“She said someone was following her.”
Before I could respond, a loud crash came from the back of the house.
Rachel screamed.
I ran toward the kitchen.
May you like
The rear door stood open.
The children were gone.
