Chapter 5 - THE DEATH MY GRANDMOTHER NEVER EXPLAINED
My mother died when I was six.
That was all my grandmother ever told me.
A car accident.
Rain.
A bad curve.
No scandal.
No mystery.
Now Charles Whitmore claimed Rose had written down the name of whoever killed her.
I wanted the Bible back immediately.
Adrian refused to let me go alone.
So at 9:00 the next morning, we entered Whitmore Tower together.
Charles met us in a private conference room.
He looked almost exactly like Vanessa.
Same pale eyes.
Same expensive confidence.
He placed my grandmother’s Bible on the table.
I reached for it.
He put one hand over the cover.
“First, we talk.”
Adrian’s voice was cold.
“Remove your hand.”
Charles smiled.
“You always were dramatic.”
“Remove it.”
He did.
I took the Bible.
The leather felt familiar.
Safe.
My grandmother’s handwriting covered the margins.
I searched for a ledger.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the spine was thicker than it should be.
Adrian found a hidden seam.
Inside was a narrow notebook.
Names.
Dates.
Shipping routes.
Payments.
Then a page marked:
Clara.
My mother.
I stopped breathing.
Rose had written:
Clara found out what Charles was moving through the ports. She threatened to tell Thomas. Charles said she would never make it back to Maine.
My hands shook.
Another line.
I should have stopped her from getting into that car.
I looked at Charles.
“You killed my mother.”
“No.”
“You threatened her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was foolish.”
Adrian moved so fast I barely saw him.
He grabbed Charles by the collar.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
Charles laughed.
“You think I’m afraid of you?”
“Yes.”
Adrian’s voice was almost calm.
“And you should be.”
I touched his arm.
“Let him go.”
Adrian looked at me.
Then released Charles.
I needed answers, not blood.
“What happened to my mother?”
Charles adjusted his jacket.
“She discovered a customs operation.”
“Smuggling?”
He smiled.
“Among other things.”
“What things?”
“Weapons. Cash. Restricted goods.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“You were running that through Cole terminals?”
“Your father knew.”
Adrian went still.
Charles continued.
“Thomas wanted out. Clara found records. Rose tried to hide them.”
“And the crash?”
Charles looked at me.
“I ordered someone to scare her.”
My stomach twisted.
“Who?”
Charles did not answer.
“Who was driving?”
He smiled.
“Ask Helen.”
The room went silent.
“Helen?”
“Our head housekeeper?”
Charles nodded.
My heart stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
He leaned forward.
“Helen wasn’t always a housekeeper.”
Adrian looked furious.
“What was she?”
Charles smiled.
“Thomas Cole’s driver.”
I felt cold all over.
Helen.
The woman who taught me how to fold linen the first week I arrived.
The woman who made soup when I had the flu.
The woman who sat across from me yesterday crying over my hair.
She had known my mother.
Maybe more.
We returned to the estate immediately.
Helen was waiting in the kitchen.
The moment she saw my face, she knew.
“Nora.”
“Were you driving the car?”
She closed her eyes.
Adrian said nothing.
Helen began crying.
“I was behind her.”
My stomach dropped.
“Behind who?”
“Your mother.”
The room disappeared around me.
Helen continued.
“Charles ordered me to frighten Clara. Force her off the road. Make her stop.”
“You chased her?”
“Yes.”
“In the rain?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hit her car?”
Helen covered her mouth.
“No.”
“Then how did she crash?”
Helen whispered:
“Because someone else was waiting on the curve.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
Helen looked at him.
May you like
And said:
“Your mother.”
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