Chapter 10 - THE MAN CAMILLE SAW BEFORE SHE DIED
Nolan returned to Boston with Ivy, Eli, Grace, Grant, and enough law enforcement attention to make secrecy impossible.
Robert and Alexander were detained for questioning, though neither remained formally charged.
Schedule C went into secure custody.
The Vale trust was frozen pending emergency review.
For the first time in seventeen years, Robert could not move money.
That should have felt like victory.
It didn’t.
Because Nolan had one question left.
Theodore Vale.
Alive.
Possibly in Boston.
Possibly the last person to see Camille before her death.
Grace gave them the location.
A former monastery outside Concord converted into private residences.
One unit leased through a medical trust.
Grant found the connection.
Dr. Jonathan Webb.
Again.
Every road returned to him.
Police arrived first.
Webb was gone.
But an elderly man remained in the upstairs room.
Nolan entered alone at first.
Theodore Vale sat by a window.
Eighty-two.
Thin.
Oxygen tube beneath his nose.
But unmistakably alive.
Nolan had seen photographs.
Same severe eyes.
Same narrow mouth.
The man looked at him.
“Nolan.”
Nolan stopped.
“You know me.”
“I chose you.”
Anger surged.
“You arranged my meeting with Camille.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were clean.”
Nolan almost laughed.
“What does that mean?”
“No Vale money. No political debt. No family connection.”
“So I was useful.”
“Yes.”
The honesty was brutal.
“Did Camille know?”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“Before you married.”
Nolan felt physically ill.
“She knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did she marry me because of the trust?”
Theodore’s expression softened.
“No.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“She was supposed to get close enough to evaluate you.”
Nolan’s jaw tightened.
“And?”
“She fell in love.”
The words hurt more than they helped.
Because maybe both things were true.
Love and strategy.
Marriage and protection.
Truth and lies.
“What happened the night before she died?”
Theodore looked away.
“She came here.”
“Why?”
“She had found Grace.”
“I know.”
“She also found proof Robert had been moving assets.”
“I know.”
“Then you know why she was scared.”
“Did she think Lorraine poisoned her?”
Theodore’s face changed.
“No.”
“Robert?”
“No.”
“Alexander?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Theodore closed his eyes.
“Jonathan Webb.”
Finally.
Directly.
“Why would Webb kill Camille?”
“To protect what he did to Rachel.”
“Grace?”
“And more.”
Nolan stepped closer.
“What more?”
Theodore’s voice weakened.
“Rachel discovered he had been falsifying DNA records for years.”
“Why?”
“Because family blood determined control.”
Nolan’s skin prickled.
“What records?”
“Mine.”
The room went still.
Nolan stared.
“What do you mean?”
“Theodore Vale had three daughters and one son.”
“Yes.”
The old man looked at him.
“No.”
“What?”
“Not biologically.”
Nolan felt dread again.
“Who wasn’t yours?”
“Rebecca.”
That seemed almost minor after everything.
Then Theodore added:
“And Camille.”
Nolan stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Camille was not my biological daughter.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Then whose?”
Theodore looked toward the doorway.
Lorraine stood there.
No police had announced her.
No one knew how she entered.
Nolan turned.
Her face was wet with tears.
Theodore whispered:
“Ask her.”
Lorraine looked at Nolan.
“Camille begged me never to tell you.”
Nolan’s voice hardened.
“Everybody keeps using her wishes to justify lying.”
Lorraine flinched.
Good.
“Who was her father?”
Lorraine looked toward Ivy.
Then at Nolan.
“Jonathan Webb.”
Silence.
Nolan stared.
The doctor who signed Camille’s suspicious will.
The doctor connected to Rachel’s records.
The doctor who may have poisoned her.
“Webb was Camille’s father?”
Lorraine nodded.
Theodore said:
“I raised her as mine.”
Nolan’s mind raced.
If Camille was not Theodore’s biological daughter—
Then was Ivy legally part of the Vale bloodline?
Schedule C required Camille’s firstborn daughter.
But did it require Theodore’s blood?
Lowell’s wording returned.
Designated branch.
Maybe legal descent mattered.
Maybe not.
Someone had spent years falsifying DNA because blood mattered somewhere.
“Why did Webb poison his own daughter?”
Lorraine started crying.
“I don’t know if he did.”
“You just stood beside everyone hiding him.”
“I was protecting Camille.”
“She’s dead.”
Lorraine covered her mouth.
Nolan’s voice broke.
“She is dead.”
Theodore looked at him.
“Maybe that’s what they wanted you to believe.”
Nolan went completely still.
“What?”
Lorraine turned toward Theodore.
“No.”
He ignored her.
“Camille knew Webb was dangerous.”
Nolan’s heart slammed.
“What are you saying?”
“She made contingency plans.”
“For Ivy?”
“For herself.”
Nolan stared.
“I buried my wife.”
Theodore looked at him with unbearable calm.
“Did you see her body after the hospital transferred her?”
Nolan stopped breathing.
He had seen Camille in the hospital.
Pale.
Still.
Declared dead.
Then funeral arrangements moved quickly.
Closed casket because Lorraine said postpartum complications had caused swelling.
Nolan had been too destroyed to argue.
“No.”
Theodore nodded.
Lorraine whispered:
“Please stop.”
Nolan turned on her.
“What did you do?”
She shook her head.
“Nolan—”
“What did you do?”
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Grant entered.
His face was pale.
“Nolan.”
“What?”
“We found Webb.”
“Where?”
“Logan Airport.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Leaving?”
“No.”
Grant swallowed.
“He was waiting for someone.”
Nolan’s chest tightened.
“Who?”
Grant held up his phone.
Airport security footage.
Jonathan Webb stood near an international arrivals gate.
A woman emerged from customs.
Dark coat.
Shorter hair.
Thin.
Alive.
Nolan’s knees almost gave out.
Camille.
He stared at the screen.
“No.”
Lorraine began sobbing.
Ivy cried in the hallway.
Nolan could not move.
Camille walked directly toward Webb.
Webb hugged her.
Then she looked across the terminal.
Straight into a security camera.
As if she knew Nolan would eventually see.
Grant whispered:
“The footage is from forty minutes ago.”
Nolan turned toward Lorraine.
“My wife is alive?”
Lorraine could barely answer.
“Yes.”
Theodore closed his eyes.
Nolan’s voice broke.
“Then whose body did I bury?”
No one answered.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
NOLAN, DON’T COME LOOKING FOR ME.
A second arrived.
TAKE IVY AND ELI SOMEWHERE ROBERT CAN’T FIND YOU.
Then a third.
It was a photograph.
Camille.
Standing beside Grace.
Taken that morning.
Behind them was another child.
A little boy, perhaps six years old.
Nolan stared at him.
The boy had Camille’s eyes.
Under the photograph, she had written only one sentence:
I HAVE ONE MORE THING TO CONFESS.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
IVY ISN’T OUR FIRST CHILD.
