Chapter 3 - The Name in the Ledger

Nora slept for less than two hours.

At six in the morning she heard footsteps outside her door.

Slow.

Measured.

They stopped.

Nora sat up without making a sound.

The handle moved once.

Then again.

Someone tested the lock.

She slipped from the bed, grabbed the brass lamp from the nightstand, and stood beside the door.

A key touched the lock from the other side.

Nora's heart began pounding.

The key turned halfway, stopped, and withdrew.

Footsteps retreated.

She waited thirty seconds before opening the door.

The hallway was empty.

A thin scratch marked the brass around the lock.

At breakfast, Edmund read the newspaper while Nora watched everyone who entered the room.

Ruth poured coffee.

"You look tired."

"Someone tried to get into my room."

Edmund lowered the paper.

"When?"

"Around six."

Ruth set down the coffee pot too quickly.

"Are you certain?"

"The handle moved and somebody used a key."

Edmund stood.

"No staff member has permission to enter that room."

Nora looked at Ruth.

"Who has master keys?"

"I do. Mr. Ashford does. The head of security."

"Martin?"

Ruth hesitated.

"He used to."

"Used to isn't no."

Edmund picked up his phone.

"Graham. Dining room. Now."

A broad-shouldered man arrived within minutes.

"Sir?"

"Pull corridor footage from five-thirty to six-thirty."

Graham glanced at Nora.

"Already tried."

Edmund narrowed his eyes.

"Why?"

"Camera twelve went offline at five forty-seven. Came back at six eleven."

Nora leaned back.

"Convenient."

Graham looked uncomfortable.

"The system recorded a manual maintenance override."

"Whose credentials?" Edmund asked.

"Martin Ashford's."

Silence filled the room.

Edmund's face hardened.

"Where is he?"

"At his apartment, according to his driver."

Nora said, "According to his driver."

Graham gave her a brief nod.

"Correct."

Edmund turned to Nora.

"You're staying beside me today."

"No."

"That was not a request."

"Then it's exactly why my mother left you."

The words struck him visibly.

Nora continued.

"You don't get to say you're different and then start deciding where I stand."

Edmund took a breath.

"What do you suggest?"

"I suggest you make this house safe instead of making me a prisoner in it."

Graham's mouth twitched with approval.

Edmund noticed.

"Something amusing?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Change every interior access code. Disable Martin's credentials. Place two guards at both stairwells. No one enters without my approval or Nora's."

Nora frowned.

"Mine?"

"You wanted a safe house, not a prison."

"That's better."

After breakfast Edmund took her to his study.

On the desk lay several old financial ledgers.

"Ruth mentioned something last night," he said.

Nora remained standing.

"What?"

"That Martin feared your existence would cost us everything."

"She told you?"

"No. I asked her this morning whether Martin knew about Clara's pregnancy. She broke down."

Nora looked toward the window.

"She should've told you twenty-seven years ago."

"Yes."

"Are you angry?"

"Very."

"At her?"

Edmund considered.

"At myself first."

Nora looked back at him.

He opened a ledger.

"The year Clara disappeared, my father was still alive. He founded Ashford Maritime. The family trust controlled voting shares."

"You think the envelope is about money."

"Everything Martin fears eventually becomes about money."

Edmund pointed to a page.

"My father's will gave me sixty percent of the trust. The remaining forty percent was to pass equally to my children and their descendants."

Nora frowned.

"So?"

"At the time, I had three children. Martin, Clara, and Samuel."

"Who's Samuel?"

Edmund looked away.

"My youngest son. He died sixteen years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"He had no children."

Nora began understanding.

"If my mother had a child..."

"Her share would continue through you."

"How much?"

"Today? Potentially hundreds of millions. More importantly, voting control."

Nora stared at him.

"I don't want hundreds of millions."

"That is a sensible reaction."

"No, it's not. Most people would want it."

"Most people have not seen what money can make relatives do."

"Martin knew."

"Possibly."

"He definitely knew."

"We need evidence."

Nora looked at the ledger.

"My mother said the same thing."

Edmund's eyes lifted.

"About what?"

Nora realized she had said too much.

"Nothing."

"Nora."

"You don't own every answer because I'm in your house."

He nodded reluctantly.

"Fair."

A knock interrupted them.

Graham entered.

"Sir, Martin is downstairs."

"Did he surrender his access badge?"

"He demanded to know why it was disabled."

Edmund rose.

"Bring him here."

Nora moved toward the side door.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. I'm listening from the library."

"Why?"

"Because he'll lie differently if I'm not in the room."

Edmund stared at her.

"You are twelve."

"And he's already tried to enter my bedroom."

Edmund did not argue.

Martin entered moments later, furious.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Edmund remained behind the desk.

"Sit."

"No."

"Then stand and embarrass yourself."

Martin threw his gloves onto a chair.

"You cut me out of the security system over a child you met last night?"

"The camera outside her room was disabled using your credentials."

"Then someone stole them."

"Who?"

"How would I know?"

"Where were you at six this morning?"

"Home."

"Your building concierge says you left at five twenty."

Martin froze.

Edmund continued.

"You returned at six forty."

"I went for a drive."

"Without your driver?"

"Yes."

"Toward this house?"

Martin's face tightened.

"You had me followed?"

"No. Your car passed three city traffic cameras."

Martin stared at him.

"This is insanity."

"Did you enter Nora's room?"

"No."

"Did you enter the house?"

"No."

"Did you disable the camera?"

"No."

Edmund leaned forward.

"Did you pay Thomas Wren to stop searching for Clara?"

In the next room, Nora stopped breathing.

Martin's silence lasted less than two seconds.

But it was enough.

"Who is Thomas Wren?"

Edmund smiled without warmth.

"That was your mistake."

"What?"

"You answered too carefully."

Martin's jaw flexed.

"I don't know what game you're playing."

"Then let me simplify it. Clara was alive until three weeks ago. She had a daughter. That daughter owns part of the Ashford trust if her identity is proven. And someone spent decades making sure I believed Clara was dead."

Martin's eyes shifted toward the adjoining library door.

Nora backed away from the gap.

"You think I did that?"

"I think you know more than you are saying."

"Father, listen to yourself. Clara ran away with a driver. She hated us. She disappeared because she wanted to disappear."

"Then why were you frightened of her ring?"

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"You imagined it."

"And why did you know she couldn't have children?"

Martin's face changed again.

"She miscarried."

"Who told you?"

"Clara."

Nora stepped into the study.

"Liar."

Martin spun toward her.

Edmund did not stop her.

Nora held up the old photograph Ruth had given her.

"This was taken two weeks before my mother disappeared. My father kept a copy. On the back, he wrote that they were planning to leave New York because 'M knows about the baby.'"

Martin stared at the photograph.

"You are making that up."

"Want to see the handwriting?"

"A photograph proves nothing."

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

Martin looked down.

They were.

He shoved them into his coat pockets.

"You're a clever little manipulator."

Edmund stood.

"Do not speak to her that way."

Martin laughed bitterly.

"You met her yesterday and already she's family?"

"If she is Clara's daughter, she has always been family. We were simply denied the truth."

"By Clara!"

"Maybe," Edmund said. "Or by you."

Martin stared at him for a long moment.

"Be careful."

Edmund's face went cold.

"Is that a threat?"

"It's advice. Digging into old graves rarely brings back anything worth finding."

Nora spoke softly.

"My mother isn't an old grave."

Martin looked at her.

"No. She's a dead woman who spent her life filling your head with poison."

Nora lunged forward before she could stop herself.

Edmund caught her shoulders.

"Nora."

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm stopping you from giving him what he wants."

Martin smirked.

"What do I want?"

"A reason to call her unstable," Edmund said. "You won't get one."

Martin's smile disappeared.

He picked up his gloves.

"When this fantasy collapses, don't call me to clean it up."

At the door, Nora said, "Thomas Wren."

Martin stopped.

"What about him?"

"I never told Edmund that name."

Edmund looked sharply at Nora.

Martin did too.

Nora continued.

"You knew exactly who he meant."

Martin left without answering.

Edmund waited until the front door slammed downstairs.

Then he turned to Nora.

"How do you know Thomas Wren?"

Nora took her mother's note from her sock.

For the first time, she handed Edmund something Clara had written.

He read it once.

Then again.

His eyes filled.

"Her handwriting."

Nora watched him carefully.

"She said Wren was paid to stop the search."

"And she told you not to tell me until you knew who paid him."

"Yes."

"Why are you telling me now?"

Nora looked at the closed study door.

"Because Martin just did."

By noon Graham had located Thomas Wren.

He was alive, seventy-eight, and living in a small retirement community in New Jersey.

Edmund wanted to call him.

Nora refused.

"If Martin paid him, he'll warn Martin."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"We go there."

"You are not confronting a former private investigator."

"Then I'll sit in the car."

Edmund looked at her suspiciously.

"Will you?"

"Probably not."

Two hours later they were standing outside Wren's apartment.

The old investigator opened the door and smiled politely until he saw Edmund.

Then the smile vanished.

"Mr. Ashford."

"Thomas."

Wren's eyes moved to Nora.

His knees seemed to weaken.

"Clara."

Nora's face hardened.

"No."

Wren gripped the doorframe.

"Oh God."

Edmund stepped forward.

"We need to talk."

Wren looked down the hallway.

"Not here."

"Why?"

"Because if Martin learns you've found me, I won't live long enough to tell you anything."

Nora's heart jumped.

Edmund asked, "What did he pay you to do?"

Wren looked at Nora again.

"Not Martin."

Edmund went still.

"Then who?"

Wren whispered, "Your wife."

Nora frowned.

Edmund's face became almost unrecognizable.

"Margaret?"

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Wren nodded.

"Your late wife paid me to make Clara disappear."