Chapter 4 - The Old Records

Arthur did not return the key.

Daniel wanted to go straight to the mansion. Sarah grabbed his wrist.

"No."

"Sarah-"

"Your mother just tried to push me down a staircase. She disabled a camera. She had guardianship papers ready. You don't walk into that house alone."

Daniel looked at Arthur.

Arthur nodded.

"She's right."

By midnight, Sarah was still stable. Dr. Grant ordered another ultrasound and told her they would keep the baby inside as long as it remained safe.

Daniel stayed until Sarah fell asleep.

Then he and Arthur drove to an old carriage house behind the Vance estate.

Arthur still knew every gate code Eleanor had forgotten to change.

Inside the carriage house, beneath shelves of wine and dusty holiday decorations, stood a locked metal cabinet.

Arthur used the brass key.

The cabinet was empty.

Daniel swore.

Arthur ran his hand along the bottom.

"Someone cleared it."

"What was supposed to be here?"

"Staff reports. Old expense ledgers. Copies of correspondence your father asked me to preserve."

Daniel turned.

"My father?"

"Charles didn't trust Eleanor with everything."

They searched for twenty minutes.

Then Arthur saw black flakes under the back door.

Ash.

Outside, behind the carriage house, an iron trash barrel still smelled of smoke.

Daniel used a flashlight.

Half-burned pages lay beneath wet leaves.

Arthur reached in and pulled one free.

A payroll list.

Another page showed a payment to "M. Rowe - private security consultation."

Another had a handwritten note.

STEPS. WEST WING. SETTLED.

Daniel frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Arthur's face changed.

"Margaret Rowe was your father's executive assistant."

"So?"

"She fell down the west staircase eighteen years ago."

Daniel stared at him.

"Was she hurt?"

"Broken hip. Head injury. She left the company two weeks later."

"And this says 'settled.'"

Arthur nodded.

A car door slammed in the darkness.

Both men froze.

Footsteps moved around the side of the carriage house.

Arthur killed the flashlight.

A beam swept through the window.

Daniel whispered, "Security?"

"No. Estate security wears radios. I don't hear one."

The doorknob turned.

Locked.

Then someone outside poured liquid along the base of the door.

Daniel smelled gasoline.

"Arthur."

"I smell it."

A match flared through the window.

Arthur shoved Daniel backward.

The fire climbed the door in one bright sheet.

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And from outside, a man's voice said quietly:

"Should've returned the key."