Chapter 8 - THE VOICE IN THE SNOW
Malcolm Rourke’s death changed everything.
Police initially believed it was suicide.
Detective Cole did not.
Neither did Richard.
Neither did I.
Rourke had left no note.
His laptop was missing.
His phone had been wiped.
His office safe stood open.
Someone had entered his apartment without forcing the lock.
That meant Rourke had either known his visitor or feared whoever arrived enough to let them in.
Vanessa refused to give another name.
She claimed she did not know one.
Richard believed her.
I was less certain.
A week later, I was finally allowed to leave the hospital.
I did not return to the house I had shared with Preston.
I never wanted to see it again.
Richard brought Oliver and me to his estate outside the city.
The place was enormous.
Stone walls.
Tall windows.
Acres of winter trees.
It should have felt intimidating.
Instead, the nursery did.
Richard had prepared it in four days.
A crib.
A rocking chair.
Stacks of blankets.
Tiny clothes.
A stuffed elephant large enough to frighten Oliver when he eventually understood what elephants were.
I stood in the doorway.
“You did all this?”
Richard looked almost embarrassed.
“I had assistance.”
“Clearly.”
“I was told newborns require things.”
“They require approximately twelve things.”
“This room contains approximately twelve hundred.”
“I may have overcompensated.”
I smiled.
“You missed a few years.”
His expression softened.
“So I’ve been told.”
Later that night, after Oliver fell asleep, Richard gave me a wooden box.
I immediately recognized it.
My mother’s.
The same box that had once held the photograph of Richard.
“How did you get this?”
“It was delivered to my office yesterday.”
“By whom?”
“No return address.”
Inside was another letter.
My hands shook before I even opened it.
The handwriting was my mother’s.
Madison,
If you are reading this, then someone finally decided the truth was safer than the lie.
I stopped.
Richard sat beside me.
“Keep going.”
I did.
I was afraid of Richard’s father.
I was also afraid of people around his company.
There were financial dealings I did not understand and men who believed people were numbers on a page.
When I discovered I was pregnant, I left.
I told one person the truth because I believed he could protect the information if anything happened to me.
His name was Malcolm Rourke.
I stared at Richard.
“No.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“He knew.”
I continued.
Malcolm promised me he would never tell Richard unless you were in danger.
If he ever contacts you, listen carefully, but do not trust him completely.
He is not evil, Madison.
But he is weak.
Weak men sometimes do terrible things when powerful men own their secrets.
The final line was underlined.
If Richard ever finds you, tell him I was sorry.
I lowered the letter.
Richard stood and walked toward the window.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then his shoulders shook once.
Only once.
“She was sorry.”
His voice was rough.
“She thought she had to apologize for surviving my father.”
I went to him.
“She loved you.”
“I should have found her.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have known enough to look.”
I touched his arm.
“You found me.”
He looked at me.
“Twenty-eight years late.”
“Still counts.”
His mouth tightened.
Then he pulled me into a careful hug.
The next morning, Detective Cole arrived.
He brought Rourke’s autopsy findings.
“Not suicide.”
Richard leaned against his desk.
“What happened?”
“Sedative in his bloodstream.”
“Then?”
Cole hesitated.
“His death was staged.”
I thought about Vanessa.
“Someone is cleaning up.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find anything else?”
“One thing.”
He placed a small digital recorder on the table.
“This was hidden behind a wall panel in Rourke’s apartment.”
“What’s on it?”
“Several meetings.”
“With Preston?”
“One.”
“With Leonard Cross?”
“Two.”
“And someone else?”
Cole nodded.
“A voice we haven’t identified.”
He pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then Rourke spoke.
“You said nobody would get hurt.”
An unknown man answered.
“I said nobody important would get hurt.”
Richard’s face hardened.
Rourke again.
“Madison Whitaker is important.”
The unknown voice laughed softly.
“She’s Madison Vale.”
“She is Richard’s daughter.”
“I know exactly who she is.”
My skin turned cold.
Rourke lowered his voice.
“If Preston goes through with this, I’m warning Richard.”
The unknown man responded immediately.
“You do that and twenty years of financial records reach federal prosecutors.”
Silence.
Then Rourke said.
“You’re threatening me.”
“No.”
The voice remained calm.
“I’m reminding you who built Northstar.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Richard replayed the final sentence.
I’m reminding you who built Northstar.
Richard’s eyes narrowed.
“I know that voice.”
Cole looked at him.
“Who?”
Richard did not answer.
He replayed it again.
His face slowly lost color.
“Richard?”
I had never seen him look frightened before.
“Who is it?”
He turned toward me.
“My brother.”
I stared at him.
“You have a brother?”
“Yes.”
“What’s his name?”
“Charles Whitaker.”
The room seemed to become colder.
“Where is he?”
Richard looked toward the recorder.
“I haven’t seen him in twelve years.”
Cole frowned.
“Why?”
Richard’s expression became distant.
“Because I forced him out of Whitaker Atlantic after discovering he had created unauthorized financial vehicles inside the company.”
“Was one called Northstar?”
Richard shook his head slowly.
“I never knew the name.”
He looked at me.
“But I knew what he was capable of.”
I thought of the anonymous message.
If you ever loved Eleanor, go now.
“Could Charles have sent you the message?”
“Yes.”
“Why save me if he built the scheme?”
Richard stared at the recorder.
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Only a handful of people had the new number.
I looked at the screen.
UNKNOWN CALLER.
Richard immediately reached for it.
“Don’t.”
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a familiar male voice spoke.
The same voice from Rourke’s recording.
“Hello, Madison.”
Richard went completely still.
I looked at him.
“Charles?”
The man laughed softly.
“I suppose my brother has been telling stories.”
“What do you want?”
“To correct one.”
“Which one?”
“Preston Vale did not choose you by accident.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“He was introduced to you.”
“By whom?”
May you like
Charles paused.
“By me.”
