Chapter 2 - The Voice Behind the Door
For three full seconds, Richard Vale said nothing.
Then he smiled.
It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the kind wealthy men used when lawyers were nearby and cameras might be rolling.
“This is absurd,” he said. “That audio could be anything.”
I looked at him. “It was recorded twenty-seven minutes ago.”
Victoria recovered faster than Nathan. “Emma, you’re injured. You’re confused. We should call a doctor.”
“I called the police.”
That landed harder.
Several guests stepped away from the Vales without even realizing they were doing it.
Nathan looked toward the open doors. Blue and red light flickered faintly across the driveway.
“You called the police on my family?”
“Someone tried to kill me.”
His jaw tightened. “Don’t say that here.”
I almost laughed.
“Here? In front of the people who were told I got emotional and left?”
A woman near the bar covered her mouth.
Nathan’s eyes snapped to Victoria.
“You told people she left?”
Victoria’s voice sharpened. “You were panicking. I was protecting the evening.”
“Protecting the evening?” I said. “I was at the bottom of an embankment.”
Richard stepped between us. “Enough.”
There it was. The Vale family word. Enough meant stop asking. Enough meant the story was decided.
I had heard it for two years.
Enough when I asked why the family trust needed my signature.
Enough when I asked why Nathan kept postponing the prenuptial agreement.
Enough when I noticed one of my company’s acquisition offers had somehow been forwarded to Richard’s attorney.
But tonight, enough had a different sound.
Police sirens grew louder.
Richard’s smile finally vanished.
Nathan pulled me aside by the elbow. I ripped my arm free.
“Did you know?” I whispered.
“Know what?”
“That your mother followed me outside.”
“No.”
“Did you know there was a black SUV waiting by the service road?”
His pupils shifted.
A tiny movement toward the driveway.
I felt cold all over again.
“You knew about the SUV.”
“No.”
“You looked at it before I even pointed.”
“Emma—”
“Who owns it?”
He didn’t answer.
Behind us, the first uniformed officer entered the ballroom.
Guests started pulling out phones.
Victoria hissed, “Put those away.”
Nobody listened.
A second officer came in, then a detective in a dark coat. She was in her early forties, sharp-eyed, rain on her shoulders.
“Emma Vale?”
“Emma Reed,” I corrected.
Nathan flinched.
The detective looked at him, then back at me. “I’m Detective Lena Ortiz. You said you have a recording.”
I handed her the phone.
Richard spoke immediately. “Detective, before you listen to anything, our attorney—”
Ortiz held up one hand. “Sir, don’t.”
She tapped the screen.
The recording played again.
This time, after Richard’s voice, there was another sound I hadn’t noticed before.
A car door opening.
May you like
Then Nathan’s voice whispered from somewhere very close to the microphone.
“Mom, hurry.”
