Chapter 6 - The GodfatherEthan called Margaret immediately.
Her hair was still perfect.
That disturbed Ethan more than if she had looked broken.
He sat across from her.
Detective Bennett stood behind the observation glass nearby.
“You wanted me here,” Ethan said.
Celeste studied him.
“You always did look more like yourself when you were angry.”
“Don’t talk to me like we’re married.”
“We are married.”
“Not for long.”
Her lips tightened.
“You think Gabriel is some hero because Laura left him evidence.”
“I don’t think anything yet.”
“That would be a first.”
Ethan ignored the insult.
“What do you know?”
Celeste leaned back.
“Gabriel hated Charles Whitmore.”
“So?”
“He believed Charles stole his childhood, erased his mother and left him nothing.”
“What does that have to do with Laura?”
“When Charles created Sophie’s trust, Gabriel learned how much money was involved.”
Ethan watched her.
“You expect me to believe he killed his sister for money?”
“Half sister.”
“You locked a six-year-old in a suitcase.”
Celeste’s expression flickered.
“I panicked.”
“You forged guardianship documents.”
“I was protecting her.”
“You bought a one-way ticket.”
“A decoy.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled faintly.
“Richard talked.”
“Enough.”
Celeste looked toward the dark observation window.
“Richard talks whenever he gets scared.”
“Did you kill Laura?”
“No.”
“Did you cut her brake line?”
“No.”
“Did you know it was cut?”
Silence.
Ethan leaned forward.
“Did you know?”
Celeste’s eyes hardened.
“I knew she was being threatened.”
“By whom?”
“Gabriel.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to believe evidence.”
She gave him a name.
Thomas Keane.
A retired private investigator.
“He worked for Laura.”
“What did he find?”
“Ask him.”
“Where?”
“Vermont.”
“And why hasn’t he spoken before?”
“Because Gabriel nearly killed him.”
Ethan stared.
Celeste lowered her voice.
“Laura wasn’t afraid of me when she made that recording, Ethan.”
“Her own words say otherwise.”
“She was afraid of everyone by then.”
“Convenient.”
“You knew her. Think.”
He did.
Laura had become anxious during her final months.
She checked windows.
Changed passwords.
Started carrying two phones.
Ethan had assumed it was stress from foundation politics.
Celeste continued.
“Laura discovered financial fraud. Richard and I were involved.”
The admission came without drama.
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
“You’re admitting that?”
“I’m not stupid enough to pretend the money wasn’t real.”
“How much?”
“About nine million.”
Ethan stared.
“But I did not kill Laura.”
“You married her husband afterward.”
“I fell in love with you.”
He laughed once, without humor.
“You targeted me.”
“At first.”
That hurt more than Ethan expected.
Celeste continued before he could speak.
“I met you intentionally. I wanted access to the house because I believed Laura had hidden evidence there.”
“Sophie’s room. The studio. The suitcase.”
“Yes.”
“You used my grief.”
“Yes.”
“You used my daughter.”
Celeste looked down.
“Yes.”
Ethan stood.
She suddenly pressed both palms to the glass.
“But I never planned to hurt Sophie.”
“You locked her in luggage.”
“I needed to move her without the driver seeing.”
“Listen to yourself.”
“I planned to get her out of the country because Richard found out someone was coming for her.”
“Gabriel?”
“No.”
Celeste looked genuinely frightened.
“Someone above all of us.”
Ethan sat again.
“What does that mean?”
Celeste whispered, “Charles Whitmore’s money never came from where Laura thought it did.”
Ethan frowned.
“Charles built hospitals.”
“Charles built an empire using investors who preferred their names kept out of records.”
“Who?”
“People who don’t care about forty-eight million dollars.”
“Then what do they care about?”
“The files Laura copied.”
Ethan remembered the hard drive.
Celeste continued.
“The fraud Laura uncovered wasn’t nine million.”
“How much?”
“At least four hundred million.”
Ethan stared at her.
“The charity scheme was camouflage for something much larger.”
“What?”
“Money laundering through healthcare acquisitions.”
Ethan’s blood chilled.
“Who ran it?”
Celeste looked at him for several seconds.
Then said a name Ethan knew extremely well.
“Martin Cole.”
His father.
Ethan stood so quickly the chair struck the wall.
“My father died seven years ago.”
“I know.”
“You’re lying.”
“He and Charles Whitmore were partners long before you married Laura.”
Ethan’s face went numb.
“That’s why you and Laura met.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Celeste leaned closer.
“Your marriage to Laura wasn’t an accident.”
Ethan’s mind filled with the night he met Laura at a museum fundraiser.
She had spilled champagne on him.
He had joked about suing.
They talked until midnight.
He had believed it was the beginning of his life.
Celeste watched his reaction.
“Charles wanted the Cole and Whitmore families connected.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ask your mother.”
Ethan left without another word.
Margaret was waiting outside.
One look at him and she knew.
“She told you.”
Ethan stopped.
“So it’s true?”
Margaret’s shoulders fell.
“Some of it.”
“Dad knew Charles?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“They owned businesses together.”
“What businesses?”
“I never knew everything.”
“Was my marriage arranged?”
“No.”
“Did Dad send me to that fundraiser to meet Laura?”
Margaret began to cry.
Ethan felt something inside him collapse.
“Mom.”
“He asked me to convince you to attend.”
“Did Laura know?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan turned away.
His entire life suddenly felt staged.
Then Bennett approached.
“We found Thomas Keane.”
Ethan faced her.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He agreed to speak.”
They drove north that afternoon.
Keane lived in a remote cabin surrounded by pine trees.
He was seventy-two, thin and scarred across one side of his face.
When Ethan introduced himself, Keane stared at him for a long time.
“You have your father’s eyes.”
Ethan hated hearing it.
“You worked for Laura.”
Keane nodded.
“She was brave.”
“Who killed her?”
Keane looked toward Bennett.
“You’re police?”
“Yes.”
“Then turn that recorder on.”
He waited.
Bennett did.
Keane folded his hands.
“Six days before Laura died, she hired me to follow Celeste Arden and Richard Vale.”
“What did you find?”
“Fraud. Bribes. Foreign accounts.”
“And Gabriel?”
Keane’s expression changed.
“Gabriel was helping her.”
Ethan stared.
“So Celeste lied.”
“Celeste lies when breathing.”
“Did Gabriel cut the brakes?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
Keane stood slowly.
He walked to a locked cabinet.
Inside was a photograph.
A grainy image taken outside Laura’s home on the evening before her death.
A man knelt beside her car.
The face was not visible.
But the jacket carried the logo of a private security company.
Ethan knew the company.
Cole Strategic Protection.
His father had founded it.
“Who is he?” Ethan asked.
Keane turned the photograph over.
A name had been written on the back.
DAVID MERCER.
Ethan stopped breathing.
David Mercer was not a stranger.
He was Ethan’s closest friend.
His business partner.
May you like
Sophie’s godfather.
And that morning, Ethan had sent David a message telling him exactly where Sophie was staying.
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