Chapter 5 - THE TUNNEL MY EX USED WHILE I WAS WORKING UPSTAIRS
Jason had been entering Maple Street Books after closing.
Security footage confirmed it.
Not through the front door.
Through the basement.
I had given him a spare key two years earlier.
Never asked for it back.
Stupid.
Human.
The basement had one locked utility door I assumed belonged to the building.
It did not.
Behind it was a narrow brick stairway leading underground.
Amelia contacted police before anyone entered.
Daniel did not argue.
Good.
Investigators found signs of recent access.
Flashlights.
Work gloves.
Broken archive boxes.
Then one laptop.
Jason’s.
He had left it during a rushed exit.
The files showed months of searches.
My mother.
Thomas Brooks.
Peter Sloan.
Daniel.
Me.
And something called:
PROJECT HARBOR CLEAN.
Daniel’s face hardened.
“That name was used by my father’s organization.”
“What was it?”
“A plan to separate legitimate port companies from criminal revenue.”
My stomach tightened.
“Your father wanted out?”
“Partly.”
Thomas had apparently been trying to clean the Brooks businesses before he died.
The tunnel evidence included proof that Peter’s family laundered money through construction contracts tied to corrupt city inspectors.
Thomas threatened to expose it.
Then died.
So perhaps the harbor shooting had not been random rival violence.
Peter may have arranged it.
Daniel said nothing for a long time.
I watched him.
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
“Don’t what?”
“Decide someone dies before evidence finishes.”
His jaw tightened.
Then loosened.
“Fair.”
That was new.
The laptop contained messages between Jason and Peter.
Jason had approached me intentionally.
Peter identified me from trust records.
Jason dated me to locate the deed.
He failed.
Then he cheated.
Not because Peter told him to.
That was apparently just Jason being Jason.
Weirdly, that felt better.
At least one betrayal in my life had been ordinary.
Then after our breakup, Peter pushed him harder.
Get Emily to sign.
Use Olivia.
Create connection to Daniel.
Frame both heirs as colluding with organized crime.
Force court-supervised sale.
Destroy tunnel evidence before anyone investigates.
Clean.
Almost.
Then one message changed everything.
Peter to Jason:
DO NOT LET EMILY LEARN SARAH IS STILL ALIVE.
I stopped breathing.
No.
My mother died fifteen years ago.
I went to the funeral.
Saw the casket.
Not open.
Heart failure.
Hospital death.
Records.
Everything.
I looked at Amelia.
She read again.
Daniel stared.
“Emily.”
“No.”
The next message:
If Sarah returns before sale closes, trust challenge becomes impossible.
My hands shook.
“She can’t be alive.”
Amelia did not guess.
“We verify.”
Good.
We did.
Death certificate.
Hospital records.
But one problem.
The body had been released to a funeral home without family identification because I was nineteen and too distraught.
My aunt handled everything.
My aunt?
I had not spoken to her in eleven years.
Name:
Rebecca Carter.
Where was she now?
Florida.
We called.
Disconnected.
Then Daniel’s investigator found a recent property record.
Rebecca Carter owned a small house in Vermont.
Purchased with cash.
Owner mailing address?
May you like
Sarah Carter.
My mother’s name.
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