Chapter 4 - ROOM 1708
Room 1708 was at the end of a silent corridor guarded by federal agents.
Emily remained downstairs with Camille while I followed Agent Keene toward the door.
Thomas had ordered me to wait for Daniel.
I ignored him.
For eleven years, my family had protected me through silence.
Christopher had protected himself through lies.
I was finished waiting for men to decide which truths I could survive.
The hotel key found in the fake gift box opened Room 1708.
Inside, the curtains were drawn.
A lamp burned beside a perfectly made bed.
No luggage.
No personal belongings.
Only photographs.
Hundreds of them covered the walls.
My childhood home.
My college dormitory.
The counseling office where I worked.
Emily’s school playground.
Our house in St. Paul.
Some images had been taken through windows.
Others came from security cameras.
A photograph of Emily sleeping in her bedroom was dated three nights earlier.
My knees weakened.
“They were inside my house.”
Keene signaled to an evidence technician.
“We’ll check every entry point and device.”
In the bathroom, Brenda sat on the floor with her wrists bound in front of her.
Blood ran from a cut above her eyebrow.
She was conscious but shaking.
A paramedic examined her while an agent photographed the room.
When Brenda saw me, she began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“Who did this?”
“A man wearing a hotel uniform. I never saw his face.”
“Why did you disappear?”
“I received a message telling me Emily had been taken. I thought the little girl with Camille was a decoy.”
“You followed the message alone?”
“They sent a live picture of Emily.”
My stomach turned.
“They had access to the lounge cameras,” Keene said.
Brenda nodded.
“When I reached this room, someone hit me from behind.”
“Why is it registered to my father?”
“I don’t know.”
Keene crouched in front of her.
“You recorded a message. You said Jackson is not Christopher’s child.”
Brenda looked toward the paramedic.
“Madeline had an affair before she met Christopher. She was already pregnant when the Sinclairs approached him.”
“Approached him for what?”
“To marry her publicly and give the child a respectable father.”
“Why Christopher?”
“Because they knew he was connected to Abigail.”
I folded my arms to keep from trembling.
“Start at the beginning.”
Brenda stared at the photographs on the walls.
“Christopher was recruited while he was still in graduate school. A consulting firm offered him money to study members of the Harrington family.”
“What consulting firm?”
“A company called Meridian Strategic Intelligence.”
“Sinclair Meridian?”
“A predecessor.”
She looked at me.
“They gave him files about you. Your favorite books. Your routines. Your relationship with your brothers. Even the fact that you wanted to build a life away from your family’s wealth.”
The bookstore where Christopher met me had not been chance.
The novel he claimed was his favorite had been mine.
The weekend trip when he proposed beside Lake Superior had recreated a journey I once described in a college essay.
Every perfect detail of our courtship had been supplied to him.
“Did he ever love me?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Brenda lowered her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
It was worse than a direct answer.
“Why did they want him close to me?”
“To locate something your father hid.”
“Horizon?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“No one told me. Christopher believed it was evidence of illegal transactions involving politicians, defense contractors, and infrastructure companies. Something valuable enough to control governments.”
Keene exchanged a glance with another agent.
“And Emily?”
“Two years ago, Christopher learned the Harrington trust would eventually pass certain voting rights to Abigail’s children. That made Emily important.”
I felt physically sick.
“Did he intend to hurt her?”
Brenda began shaking her head.
“No. Christopher argued against involving Emily.”
“How noble.”
“I’m not defending him.”
“You helped him create another family.”
“I helped him maintain a public marriage to Madeline because Elias Voss demanded it.”
“You’ve seen Voss?”
“Only once.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“When?”
“Three months ago. Christopher took me to a private estate near Lake Minnetonka. Voss was behind a screen. His voice was electronically altered.”
Like the caller who used my father’s disconnected number.
“What did he want?”
“Christopher was supposed to secure control of a Harrington subsidiary through the forged contracts. The merger tonight would have transferred those rights into Sinclair Meridian.”
“And after the merger?”
“Voss planned to liquidate several companies and move the money offshore.”
Keene stood.
“You’ll provide the address of the estate.”
Brenda gave it to her.
Then she gripped my wrist.
“There’s more.”
Her fingernails dug into my skin.
“The public ceremony tonight was never the real merger.”
“What do you mean?”
“The contracts were scheduled to activate at midnight.”
I checked the time.
10:38 p.m.
Thomas could block fraudulent transfers, but the ballroom presentation had only exposed the accounts we knew about.
“What happens at midnight?”
Brenda looked terrified.
“Ownership of North Star Strategic Holdings transfers to a trust established for Jackson.”
“The child who isn’t Christopher’s.”
“Yes.”
“Who is his father?”
Brenda’s mouth opened.
Before she could answer, the lamp beside the bed went out.
The television turned on by itself.
Static filled the screen.
Then a live image appeared.
Emily sat in the hotel lounge beside Camille.
My daughter was safe.
But a red targeting circle hovered over her face.
A timer appeared beneath the image.
01:21:04.
One hour and twenty-one minutes until midnight.
A distorted voice filled the room.
“Abigail Harrington, your father stole something from us.”
Agent Keene drew her weapon and ordered technicians to trace the signal.
The voice continued.
“Christopher was offered a simple task. He failed because he became sentimental.”
My eyes remained fixed on Emily’s image.
“What do you want?”
“Your father’s Horizon key.”
“I don’t have it.”
“You have carried it for eleven years.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The voice laughed softly.
“Your mother made certain you would never lose it.”
My hand rose unconsciously to my neck.
I no longer wore my mother’s necklace.
I had sold it six years ago to save Christopher’s company.
The screen changed.
A photograph appeared of the antique shop where I had sold it.
Beneath it was an image of Christopher buying it back the following morning.
He had possessed the necklace all along.
May you like
The voice spoke one final time.
“Bring us the key before midnight, or Emily will inherit nothing but your regret.”
