Chapter 6 - Midnight at Sterling WarehouseThe old Sterling warehouse stood near the Los Angeles River, abandoned except for storage containers and rusting equipment.
Six hours was enough.
The Bel Air house looked untouched from the outside.
The fountains still ran.
The gardeners were trimming hedges.
A delivery van sat near the service entrance.
But Frank knew something was wrong before we reached the front door.
“The west cameras are offline.”
“When?”
“Three hours ago.”
He drew his phone and motioned for two security officers to follow him.
I entered behind Detective Reed.
The house was silent.
Then our housekeeper, Rosa, came running from the kitchen.
“Mrs. Albright!”
Her face was pale.
“What happened?”
“Mr. Albright came home.”
“When?”
“About two.”
“With Vanessa?”
“No.”
“Was he alone?”
“At first.”
My pulse quickened.
“What did he take?”
“He went into the study. Then two men arrived with cases. He told me they were attorneys.”
Frank disappeared toward the study.
Seconds later:
“Margaret!”
I hurried down the hallway.
Charles's office had been destroyed.
Desk drawers open.
Safe empty.
Hard drives removed.
Files gone.
The large portrait behind his desk hung crooked.
Detective Reed swore under his breath.
“He's destroying evidence.”
“Not all of it.”
Ethan walked to the bookshelf.
He pulled out a leather-bound encyclopedia and pressed something behind it.
A panel slid open.
Everyone looked at him.
He shrugged.
“Dad showed me when I was thirteen. He used to hide birthday presents in there.”
Inside was an old laptop.
Ethan lifted it out.
“Maybe he forgot.”
He didn't.
The laptop had been deliberately smashed.
But data recovery technicians were already on their way.
Rosa touched my arm.
“Mrs. Albright, there is something else.”
“What?”
“Mr. Albright asked me where you keep your passport.”
I stared at her.
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Did he find it?”
I ran upstairs.
My passport was missing.
So was Ethan's.
And a second jewelry box containing approximately three hundred thousand dollars' worth of pieces I rarely wore.
Charles was planning to leave.
Detective Reed immediately notified federal authorities.
At 4:32 p.m., an alert went out to airports and border crossings.
At 5:10, we received another surprise.
Vanessa walked voluntarily into the downtown police station.
She brought an attorney.
And a suitcase.
I almost didn't go.
But Claire persuaded me.
“If she has information, you need to hear it.”
Vanessa looked entirely different when I entered the interview room.
Jeans.
White sweater.
No makeup.
Her expensive blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail.
She seemed younger.
And terrified.
Her attorney began.
“Ms. Pierce is prepared to cooperate fully in exchange for consideration regarding charges related to financial fraud.”
Detective Reed sat opposite him.
“What does she have?”
Vanessa opened the suitcase.
It contained documents.
Phones.
Two external hard drives.
And a stack of handwritten notebooks.
“I kept everything.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because I never trusted Charles.”
The irony almost made me choke.
“You were sleeping with him for nine years but didn't trust him?”
“I trusted what he wanted. Not what he was.”
“There's a difference?”
“Yes.”
Her voice became quieter.
“Charles loves control. He doesn't love people.”
Ethan sat beside me.
Vanessa looked toward him but quickly looked away.
“What happened after you left the gala?” Reed asked.
“Charles told me to meet him at a private hangar in Van Nuys.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to fly to Mexico.”
“With you?”
“That was what he said.”
“And?”
“I didn't go.”
“Why not?”
She swallowed.
“Because I heard what he said about me.”
I frowned.
“What?”
She reached into the suitcase and removed a small voice recorder.
“Charles left it in my apartment three months ago. I started using it.”
“For what?”
“To record him.”
“Why?”
“In case he ever tried to blame everything on me.”
She pressed play.
Charles's voice.
“There is no ‘us’ after this, Vanessa.”
Then another man's voice.
His attorney, perhaps.
“She's useful as long as Margaret is alive.”
My skin prickled.
Charles answered:
“When Margaret is gone, Vanessa becomes the obvious suspect. Nine-year affair, foundation transfers into her company, stolen jewelry. Nobody will look past her.”
Vanessa stared at the table.
“He planned to frame me.”
The recording continued.
The unknown man asked:
“And Ethan?”
Charles answered:
“If the boy causes trouble, we'll deal with him.”
Ethan went rigid.
My chair scraped backward.
Detective Reed reached toward the recorder.
“When was this recorded?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Who is the other man?”
Vanessa hesitated.
Then said a name.
“Robert Hale.”
Claire froze.
I turned toward her.
“Who is Robert Hale?”
She looked sick.
“The foundation's outside general counsel.”
My mind raced.
Robert had attended Thanksgiving at our home.
He had handled Dad's estate.
He had advised me after Dad's death to leave day-to-day operations to Charles.
He had attended the gala.
And when Ethan exposed the missing money, Robert had vanished before police arrived.
“Where is he now?” Reed demanded.
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
“I know where Charles wanted to meet him.”
“Where?”
“Van Nuys.”
Reed stood and started making calls.
I kept staring at Vanessa.
“You said Charles wanted me dead.”
She nodded.
“Did you know beforehand?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I knew he wanted to incapacitate you. I swear I didn't know the amount he put into the wine.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
She closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Vanessa.”
“No, I didn't know he intended to kill you.”
“Did you care whether he did?”
Her silence lasted too long.
Ethan looked away.
Finally she whispered:
“Not enough.”
It was the first truthful thing she had said to me.
I stood.
“I hope cooperation helps your sentence.”
Her face crumpled.
“Margaret…”
I stopped.
She removed one final object from her handbag.
My wedding ring.
The police had apparently released it after documenting it.
She placed it on the table.
“I don't deserve to give this back to you.”
“No,” I said. “You don't.”
I picked it up.
Then I stared at it.
Twenty-three years of marriage.
Birthdays.
Holidays.
Hospital rooms.
Graduations.
Funerals.
Lies.
I didn't put it on.
Instead, I closed my hand around it.
Detective Reed returned.
“Charles's plane never left Van Nuys.”
“Then where is he?”
“We don't know.”
“Security cameras?”
“Disabled.”
“Robert Hale?”
“His phone is off.”
Ethan frowned.
“So they left by car?”
“Possibly.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text.
One photograph.
My breath stopped.
It showed Arthur Klein sitting in a chair.
Hands tied.
Blood on his forehead.
Behind him stood Charles.
And beneath the photograph:
Bring everything your father hid to the old Sterling warehouse by midnight. Come alone, or Arthur finishes what Edward started.
Ethan read over my shoulder.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Mom, absolutely not.”
Detective Reed took the phone.
“It could be a trap.”
“It is a trap.”
“Then you're not going.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Arthur had spent eight years hiding because he tried to help my father.
Now Charles had him.
May you like
“Yes,” I said.
“I am.”
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