Chapter 12 - The Warning About Richard Sloane
“Where is Naomi?”
Meredith did not answer directly.
“That depends on whether Richard realizes she copied the archive.”
“You said if I want her alive, stop trusting him.”
“I said exactly what I meant.”
“Then explain.”
“You don’t have time for the family history tonight.”
“I’m making time.”
A soft exhale.
My mother used to make the same sound when I refused to let something go.
The resemblance bothered me.
“Richard has spent thirty years surviving whichever side holds control.”
“Did he help Conrad?”
“Yes.”
“Did he help my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Did he help you?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like a lawyer.”
“It sounds like a coward.”
I looked at Elaine.
She was recording the call with my permission.
Franklin sat nearby.
Lauren had been moved into another secure room.
“Where is Naomi?” I asked again.
“Richard arranged the parking-garage meeting.”
My chest tightened.
“With whom?”
“Camilla.”
“Why?”
“Naomi offered Camilla a deal.”
“What kind?”
“She would give Camilla the vendor files if Camilla helped expose Julian.”
That sounded plausible.
Camilla had reasons to protect herself.
“What happened?”
“Richard found out.”
“How?”
“Camilla told him.”
Of course.
Camilla had chosen self-preservation.
“Is Naomi alive?”
“I believe so.”
“Believe?”
“I lost contact with the person watching her.”
My jaw tightened.
“You have people watching her?”
“I have people watching several people.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
I hated how much she sounded like someone from my family.
“Tell me where to find Naomi.”
“First answer a question.”
“No.”
“Audrey.”
“No more tests.”
Silence.
Then Meredith said, “Your mother would have said the same thing.”
“Don’t use her.”
“I’m trying to keep you from repeating her mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“Believing Richard would choose loyalty over fear.”
My body went still.
“What did he do?”
Meredith’s voice softened.
“During the original Northstar split, Margaret found proof Conrad had diverted investor funds.”
“I know that.”
“No. You know the version Malcolm remembers.”
“Then give me yours.”
“Margaret and I found the proof together.”
“Why did she erase you?”
“Because I wanted to take it to prosecutors immediately.”
“And she didn’t?”
“She wanted to protect the fund first.”
“That doesn’t explain pretending you were dead.”
“No.”
Her voice became quieter.
“The night before the partnership vote, someone broke into my apartment.”
I said nothing.
“They didn’t take jewelry. They took financial files.”
“Conrad?”
“I thought so.”
“You were wrong?”
“I found out years later Richard gave them my address and schedule.”
Elaine looked up sharply.
“Why?”
“Conrad threatened him with evidence of an unrelated ethics violation.”
“What happened to you?”
“I left.”
“You disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother told me you died.”
“Margaret believed that was the only way to keep Conrad from using you to find me.”
“You could have contacted me after she died.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Not directly.”
Lauren.
Meredith had reached through her.
Cowardly maybe.
Careful definitely.
“Why wait?”
“Because Richard controlled your estate documents.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you saying?”
“Your mother left you more than Northstar.”
“What?”
“An evidence trust.”
Franklin froze.
Meredith continued.
“A sealed archive containing the original Morrow records, partnership books, and proof of the diversion.”
“Where is it?”
“Richard was trustee.”
My blood went cold.
“He never told me.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because the release condition was your thirty-fifth birthday or a hostile claim by Conrad.”
I was thirty-four.
My birthday was four months away.
But Conrad had now asserted claims through the forged transfer.
“That condition is triggered.”
“Yes.”
“Then Richard has to release it.”
“He should.”
“Why hasn’t he?”
“That’s what you need to ask.”
I looked toward the ballroom doors.
Richard had disappeared twenty minutes earlier.
Elaine checked.
His phone was off.
“Where would he keep it?” I asked.
“Your mother rented a private records vault.”
“Where?”
“Boston.”
“Name?”
Meredith hesitated.
Then gave it.
Langford Archive Services.
Franklin immediately searched.
Private document storage.
Limited access.
Open by appointment.
Elaine called.
After-hours number.
No answer.
Meredith said, “Richard knows you’re looking now.”
“What do you think he’ll do?”
“What he did thirty years ago.”
“Protect himself.”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed.
An email from Richard.
AUDREY—
WE NEED TO SPEAK PRIVATELY BEFORE YOU DO SOMETHING IRREVERSIBLE.
Attached was a photograph.
Naomi.
Alive.
Sitting in what appeared to be an office.
A newspaper from that evening lay on the desk beside her.
I stood.
“Richard has Naomi.”
Meredith went silent.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“You said you didn’t know where she was.”
“I didn’t.”
My anger sharpened.
“Where is this office?”
Franklin enlarged the image.
Glass wall.
Dark wood.
A framed painting.
I knew it.
Richard’s law firm.
Boston.
Naomi was over two hundred miles away.
Someone had gotten her out of the hotel quickly.
Elaine whispered, “Private car or helicopter.”
Richard’s email continued.
COME TO BOSTON ALONE.
BRING THE RED LEDGER.
NO LAW ENFORCEMENT.
Then one more line.
ASK MEREDITH WHAT HAPPENED THE NIGHT YOUR MOTHER DIED.
I read it aloud.
The phone remained silent.
“Meredith?”
Nothing.
“Answer me.”
Finally, she said:
“Your mother didn’t die at home.”
My heartbeat stopped.
That was exactly where I had been told she died.
Meredith continued.
May you like
“She died in Richard Sloane’s car.”
📖 Read what really happened in Richard’s car the night my mother died—and why the evidence trust made Naomi’s disappearance suddenly part of the same thirty-year cover-up in CHAPTER 13. 👇
