Chapter 9 - Ask Ryan
Ryan read the note three times.
Then he laughed, low and angry.
“Convenient.”
Elena said nothing.
He looked at her. “You think I’m involved.”
“I think someone wants me to think you’re involved.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No. It isn’t.”
Vivian pointed toward the door. “This meeting is over.”
Ryan did not move.
“Sit down,” he told his mother.
She stared at him.
It might have been the first time in his adult life he had spoken to her that way.
“Ryan.”
“Sit down.”
Vivian sat.
Ryan turned to Elena. “Ask me anything.”
She did.
Where were you the night my father died?
At a fundraising dinner in London. Hundreds of witnesses.
Did you know Harbor Seventeen existed?
Only as a phrase I heard once or twice.
Did your father ever accuse you of stealing?
Not directly. But six months before he died, he cut me off from a company account and said I needed to ‘learn what money costs.’ I thought he was being controlling.
Did Daniel Cross ever do personal favors for you?
Yes.
What kind?
Ryan hesitated.
Elena waited.
Finally he said, “He made a DUI arrest disappear.”
Vivian’s head snapped toward him.
Ryan looked sick. “I was twenty-five. I clipped a parked car after a party. Nobody was hurt. Daniel knew the precinct commander. The charge disappeared.”
Elena felt disappointment settle heavily in her chest.
“You let that happen.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“A photographer had pictures of me with a married woman. Daniel bought them.”
“Anything else?”
Ryan stared at the table.
“My ex-girlfriend accused one of our executives of assaulting her at a company retreat.”
Vivian went white.
Elena’s voice sharpened. “What happened?”
“Daniel told me it was handled.”
“Meaning?”
“I never asked.”
There it was again.
The family disease.
Never ask.
Elena stood and walked to the window before anger made her careless.
Behind her, Ryan said, “I know how that sounds.”
“No,” she said. “You know how it sounds now.”
The distinction landed.
Ryan looked down.
Marcus’s phone rang.
He stepped into the hallway, returned two minutes later, and closed the door.
“The brass key belongs to a safe-deposit box.”
“Which bank?” Elena asked.
“Old account records trace it to Hanover Continental. The branch closed years ago, but its boxes were transferred after acquisition.”
“To where?”
Marcus looked at Ryan.
“Midtown vault facility. Access records show the box was opened four times in the last decade.”
Ryan frowned. “By whom?”
Marcus read the names.
“Arthur Vale. Vivian Vale. Daniel Cross.”
Then he paused.
“And two months ago… Ryan Vale.”
Ryan’s face went blank.
“I have never been there.”
Elena watched him carefully.
Marcus placed a printed access image on the table.
The camera still showed a man in a dark coat entering the vault under Ryan’s name.
May you like
His face was turned toward the lens.
It looked exactly like Ryan.
