Chapter 6 - WAREHOUSE TWELVE
Warehouse Twelve stood at the end of an abandoned industrial road forty miles outside the city.
The building had once stored imported furniture for the Whitmore hotel division.
Now its windows were dusty.
Weeds grew through cracks in the pavement.
Arthur parked beside Detective Reed’s unmarked vehicle.
Elena had insisted on coming despite everyone’s objections.
Lily remained at Whitmore House with Margaret and two officers.
Reed approached.
“Stay behind me.”
Elena showed him the brass key.
“You think Victoria came here?”
“Traffic cameras picked up her sedan fifteen minutes ago.”
Arthur looked around.
“There’s no car.”
“She may have switched vehicles.”
Reed examined the front entrance.
No forced entry.
Elena inserted the key.
It turned smoothly.
The smell inside was dust, cold concrete, and old wood.
Their footsteps echoed.
Rows of empty storage racks stretched into darkness.
Arthur called Michael’s name without thinking.
The sound broke Elena’s heart.
For one terrible second, she imagined Michael answering.
Instead, something moved behind a stack of pallets.
Reed raised his flashlight.
A man stepped out.
“Don’t shoot.”
He was perhaps sixty.
Gray hair.
Work jacket.
Both hands raised.
Arthur stared.
“Benjamin?”
Elena looked between them.
“You know him?”
Arthur’s face hardened.
“Benjamin Cole.”
“My former chief accountant.”
Benjamin gave a tired nod.
“I was wondering when you’d finally come.”
Reed searched him for weapons.
None.
Arthur looked furious.
“You disappeared three months before Michael died.”
“I was told to disappear.”
“By whom?”
Benjamin looked at Elena.
“Your son.”
Arthur stopped.
“Michael?”
“Yes.”
Benjamin walked toward an old office.
Inside sat a metal desk, three filing cabinets, and a portable generator.
He unlocked the center drawer.
Elena saw dozens of folders.
Bank records.
Corporate registrations.
Copies of signatures.
Photographs.
Michael had been building a case.
Benjamin placed a small flash drive on the desk.
“Michael discovered unauthorized withdrawals eleven months before his death.”
“Why didn’t he tell Arthur?”
“He didn’t know who to trust.”
Arthur’s face tightened.
“Not even me?”
Benjamin looked uncomfortable.
“He believed someone close to you had access to your passwords and signature samples.”
“Victoria.”
“We suspected her.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“Suspected?”
Benjamin nodded.
“She wasn’t working alone.”
Elena remembered ELM Holdings.
“Who created the company in my name?”
Benjamin looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“You have to know something.”
“I know Michael discovered it three days before his death.”
Elena’s throat tightened.
“That’s why he came here.”
“Yes.”
“He thought whoever created ELM Holdings had made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
Benjamin opened another folder.
Inside was a series of digital access logs.
One entry was highlighted.
The account used to create ELM Holdings had logged into the Whitmore corporate system from a private office.
Arthur read the location.
“Executive Suite 14.”
Elena frowned.
“Whose office?”
Arthur did not answer.
Benjamin did.
“Michael’s younger brother.”
Elena stared at him.
“Jonathan?”
Arthur stepped back.
Jonathan Whitmore was Arthur’s only surviving son.
He lived in London most of the year.
He had flown home for Michael’s funeral.
He had held Elena while she cried.
He had kissed Lily’s forehead and promised she would always have family.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Elena whispered.
Benjamin gave a grim smile.
“Nothing about this family makes sense once you follow the money.”
Arthur shook his head.
“Jonathan had no reason to steal.”
“He had several hundred million reasons.”
Arthur looked at him sharply.
Benjamin continued.
“If Michael died without a child, Jonathan would inherit Michael’s future share.”
“But Lily was already born.”
“Yes.”
“Which is why removing Lily became important.”
Elena felt cold.
Victoria’s words returned.
This child will never see a single dime of the estate.
Arthur gripped the desk.
“Where is Jonathan now?”
Benjamin looked toward Reed.
“According to Michael’s notes, Jonathan arrived in the country three days ago.”
Arthur’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Then at Elena.
“Who is it?” she asked.
Arthur answered slowly.
“Jonathan.”
He put the call on speaker.
His surviving son’s cheerful voice filled the dusty office.
“Dad.”
“I heard there’s some trouble at the house.”
Arthur stared at Michael’s files.
“Where are you?”
A pause.
“At the airport.”
“Why?”
“I’m coming home.”
Arthur looked at Elena.
Jonathan continued.
“And Dad?”
“Yes?”
May you like
“Keep Elena away from Michael’s old records.”
The line went dead.
