Ethan pointed toward Alexander’s phone.
“In Grandpa’s pictures.”
Alexander stared at him.
“Grandpa Richard?”
Ethan nodded.
Maria looked horrified.
Alexander called his father.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Voicemail.
Then Alexander received a text.
From Richard.
DON’T COME TO MY HOUSE.
Alexander stared at the words.
Another message appeared.
THEY’RE WATCHING ME.
Then another.
TRUST MARIA.
Alexander looked up at her.
Maria went pale.
“Why would he say that?”
Alexander showed her.
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Then the final message arrived.
CATHERINE LEFT THE SECOND KEY WITH HER.
Alexander slowly looked at the silver chain around Maria’s neck.
“You told me Catherine gave you one key.”
“She did.”
“What second key?”
“I don’t know.”
But Ethan was staring at the teddy bear in his hands.
Then the boy said:
“Mommy gave me one too.”
Alexander turned.
“What?”
Ethan squeezed the bear.
“She put it inside Mr. Brown.”
Maria stared at the stuffed animal.
Alexander carefully opened a small seam along its back.
Inside the stuffing was a tiny envelope.
He pulled it out.
Written across the front in Catherine’s handwriting were four words.
FOR ETHAN. WHEN HE’S SAFE.
Alexander opened it.
Inside was a small key.
And an address.
A storage facility outside Boston.
Below it Catherine had written:
Locker 317.
Maria whispered:
“She planned all of this.”
Alexander nodded.
Because Catherine hadn’t been preparing for an accident.
She had been preparing for someone to kill her.
Three hours later, Alexander, Maria, Ethan, and Detective Reed arrived at the storage facility.
Police units remained outside.
Reed insisted on entering first.
Locker 317 was at the end of a concrete hallway.
Alexander inserted the key.
The lock opened.
Inside were dozens of boxes.
Financial records.
Photographs.
Hard drives.
And one sealed envelope.
Alexander opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Vanessa.
Richard.
And Catherine.
All three standing together.
The date printed on the photograph was five years earlier.
Two years before Catherine died.
Alexander stared.
“I thought Catherine met Vanessa once.”
Maria looked at the picture.
“She lied.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Reed opened another box.
“Alexander.”
Inside were bank statements.
Transfers.
Millions of dollars.
Then Reed found a folder.
He opened it.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Reed handed Alexander a document.
It was a life insurance policy.
Insured person:
ALEXANDER BLACKWOOD.
Benefit:
$100,000,000.
Beneficiary:
BLACKWOOD FAMILY TRUST.
Alexander stared.
“I never signed this.”
Reed turned the page.
There was Alexander’s signature.
Except it wasn’t his.
Someone had forged it.
Then Maria found another document.
Guardianship Petition — Draft.
In the event of Alexander Blackwood’s death, guardianship of Ethan Blackwood would transfer to—
Maria stopped reading.
Alexander took the paper.
The name wasn’t Vanessa Sterling.
It was Maria Alvarez.
Everyone stared at her.
Maria’s face went white.
“I’ve never seen that document.”
Reed’s hand moved toward his holster.
“Maria…”
“I swear.”
Alexander looked at the signature at the bottom.
Maria Alvarez.
It looked real.
Maria backed away.
“No.”
“Is that your signature?” Reed asked.
“It looks like it.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No!”
Ethan began crying.
Alexander looked from the paper to Maria.
The woman who had protected his son.
The woman Catherine had trusted.
The woman his father had just told him to trust.
Then the lights inside the storage facility went out.
Reed pulled his weapon.
“Everybody down.”
A phone began ringing inside Locker 317.
Not Alexander’s.
Not Maria’s.
A phone sitting inside one of Catherine’s boxes.
Alexander stared at it.
The screen displayed one name.
RICHARD BLACKWOOD.
Alexander answered.
“Dad?”
Heavy breathing.
Then Richard whispered:
“Alexander, listen carefully.”
“Where are you?”
“Sie wissen, dass du den Spind gefunden hast.”
“Wer?”
Richards Stimme brach.
“Die Menschen, vor denen ich dich zwanzig Jahre lang beschützt habe.”
Alexander starrte in die Dunkelheit.
“Papa, was hast du getan?”
Richard schwieg.
Dann sagte er:
“Ich habe geholfen, Catherines Mord zu vertuschen.”
Und die Leitung war tot.
