Chapter 6 - The Man Who Made the Fake Test
Peter Keller was found in a motel thirty miles outside the city.
Alive.
Barely.
Police called it an overdose until Adrian’s private investigator noticed bruising around Keller’s wrists and a broken bathroom window.
By noon, the case changed.
Claire sat in Adrian’s office feeding Noah while Detective Lena Ortiz asked questions.
“Did Keller ever contact you directly?” Ortiz asked.
“Once,” Claire said. “He used a prepaid phone. He said he had proof the first test was fake.”
“Why help you?”
“Because someone stopped paying him.”
Adrian looked toward Vanessa, who sat with her attorney near the far wall.
She glared back.
Ortiz continued. “Did he identify who hired him?”
“Vanessa’s name came up. So did Richard’s company.”
Vanessa’s lawyer stood. “My client will not answer questions without a formal interview.”
Ortiz smiled politely. “Then I’ll stop asking her informal ones.”
Claire’s phone vibrated.
A voicemail notification.
Unknown sender. Timestamp: 3:12 a.m.
She pressed play.
Keller’s voice came through thin and frightened.
“Claire, if you get this, I was wrong about one thing. Vanessa didn’t start it. Richard didn’t either.”
Static.
A door slammed in the background.
Keller spoke faster.
“The first payment came from Vale. Internal account. Old executive code. I thought it was Adrian, but it wasn’t. The authorization key belongs to—”
The recording cut off.
Everyone in the office stared at the phone.
Adrian said, “Play it again.”
She did.
Old executive code.
Vale internal account.
Martin opened the company archive.
“There are only three legacy authorization keys still recognized by the payment system,” he said.
Adrian leaned over his shoulder.
One belonged to Adrian.
One had belonged to his father, Thomas.
The third belonged to Margaret Vale.
Adrian’s mother.
He stepped back.
“No.”
Claire looked at him. “Could someone have stolen it?”
“Maybe.”
Martin’s face said he didn’t believe that.
Adrian called his mother.
No answer.
He called the house manager.
She picked up on the second ring, breathing hard.
“Mr. Vale?”
“What happened?”
“Your mother left ten minutes ago.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t know. A black car.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
A pause.
Then: “She left an envelope for you.”
Adrian arrived at his mother’s townhouse twenty minutes later.
The envelope waited on the kitchen table.
His name was written across it in Margaret’s handwriting.
Inside was one sentence.
ADRIAN, IF CLAIRE FOUND THE BIRTH CERTIFICATE, YOU ARE IN MORE DANGER THAN YOU KNOW.
Underneath was an address.
May you like
And a warning.
COME ALONE.
