Chapter 16 - What Eleanor Signed

Eleanor asked everyone to leave the interview room except me.

I stayed because she asked.

I also stayed because I did not trust her.

She sat across from me, hands folded around the silver handle of her cane.

"I did illegal things," she said.

No excuses.

That surprised me.

"How illegal?"

"I authorized false invoices. I moved money through accounts designed to hide ownership. I bribed a port official once."

I stared at her.

"Once?"

"It was enough."

"Why?"

"To keep Hale from discovering we were building a parallel ledger for federal investigators."

"So you committed crimes to expose crimes."

"Yes."

"Convenient."

"No. Stupid. Arrogant. I believed I could control the damage. I was wrong."

She looked toward the one-way glass.

"Thomas disappeared. Richard Cole lost his marriage and drank himself to death. Daniel lost his daughter for twenty-two years. You lost your father. Vanessa lost hers. My company survived, and I told myself that meant the choices were justified."

Her voice cracked for the first time.

"They weren't."

I believed she regretted it.

That was not the same as forgiving her.

"What's in the vault?"

"Every original document I kept. Including proof that I signed transfers under Hale's direction."

"That could send you to prison."

"Yes."

"And you're willing to open it?"

She looked at me. "I should have opened it years ago."

We left for the old foundation building at dusk.

Federal agents came with us, but because Hale might have compromised people inside law enforcement, the evidence recovery team was kept small.

The basement vault was hidden behind a mechanical wall.

Eleanor entered a code.

The door opened.

Rows of archive boxes lined the room.

So did fresh footprints in the dust.

Someone had been there recently.

I moved toward the back.

One shelf was empty.

A note had been taped to it.

THANK YOU FOR KEEPING MY HISTORY SAFE.

- V.H.

Vanessa read it over my shoulder.

"He took the evidence."

Adrian shook his head. "Not all of it."

He pointed to a small blinking device beneath the shelf.

A cellular transmitter.

Martin went pale.

"That's not a tracker."

I knew from his face what it was.

"Bomb?"

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He nodded.

Then the vault door slammed shut behind us.