CHAPTER 5 THE BOX UNDER THE BED
The police had sealed most of the house.
The marble floors were still wet from the rain that had blown in through the open front doors.
For years, I had walked through that house as a guest.
Tonight, I walked through it like a man searching for answers.
A detective led me upstairs.
"Gideon's room is this way."
I entered.
The room looked painfully ordinary.
Toy cars.
Books.
A stuffed bear.
A superhero blanket.
A drawing taped to the wall.
A family of four holding hands.
Arianne.
Derek.
Gideon.
And me.
I stared at the drawing for several seconds.
Then I noticed something.
Gideon had drawn a fifth person.
A man standing behind the family.
His face was crossed out in black.
I pointed at it.
"Who is that?"
The detective looked at the drawing.
"We don't know."
I walked toward the bed.
"Gideon said something about a box."
The detective nodded.
"We found it."
He reached beneath the bed.
A small wooden box emerged.
Old.
Dusty.
Locked.
My name was carved into the lid.
BALDRIC.
I stared at it.
"That wasn't made by a child."
"No."
The detective handed it to me.
My hands felt strangely heavy.
I turned it over.
There was a small brass key taped underneath.
I knew that key.
My wife's key.
The key she had kept on a silver chain around her neck.
A key I hadn't seen since the day she died.
My throat tightened.
I unlocked the box.
Inside were three things.
A photograph.
A USB drive.
And an envelope.
The envelope had my name on it.
My wife's handwriting.
I hadn't seen that handwriting in seven years.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
For several seconds, I couldn't open it.
Then I did.
The first line read:
Baldric,
If you are reading this, then I was right to be afraid.
My hands began to shake.
I continued.
I knew you would never believe me if I told you what I discovered.
Not because you didn't trust me.
Because you trusted everyone else too much.
I stopped.
The detective looked at me.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No."
I kept reading.
The Vances have been watching our family for years.
They aren't interested in our money alone.
They're interested in control.
Control of the company.
Control of the trust.
And control of Arianne.
My heart pounded.
Then I reached the next paragraph.
There is someone close to you who has been helping them.
I stared at the sentence.
Someone close to me.
The detective leaned forward.
"Keep going."
I did.
I couldn't tell you who because I didn't know how far their influence reached.
But I discovered something.
They had access to your office.
Your private accounts.
Your legal files.
And my medical records.
I stopped reading.
My wife had died after a sudden illness.
The doctors had called it complications.
I had accepted that.
Because I had no reason not to.
Until now.
I continued.
If I die unexpectedly, do not assume it was natural.
My heart stopped.
The room seemed to shrink.
The detective looked at me.
"Mr. Baldric?"
I didn't answer.
The next line was underlined.
Find Evelyn Cross.
She knows what happened.
I stared at the name.
"Evelyn Cross."
The detective nodded.
"We're already looking for her."
Then I reached the final paragraph.
And I wish I hadn't.
Because my wife had written:
The man helping them has been beside you for years.
He knows everything.
He knows about the company.
He knows about Arianne.
And he knows about you.
The letter ended with one final sentence.
If anything happens to me, never let him know you found this.
I lowered the paper.
For the first time in seven years, I felt genuinely afraid.
Not for myself.
For the person standing closest to me.
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
My attorney.
I answered.
"Baldric."
His voice was unusually tense.
"We have a problem."
"What happened?"
"Someone accessed your wife's old trust account tonight."
"When?"
"Twenty-three minutes ago."
I stood.
"From where?"
He hesitated.
"Your old office."
I looked at the detective.
"Who has access?"
"Three people."
"Names."
Another pause.
Then my attorney said,
"You."
"The Vance family attorney."
"And?"
My attorney's voice dropped.
"Your longtime financial adviser."
I froze.
That name hit me harder than a punch.
He had been beside me for twenty-two years.
He had handled my accounts.
My wife's estate.
Arianne's trust.
Everything.
I looked down at the USB drive inside the box.
Maybe my wife had known.
Maybe she had discovered something before she died.
And maybe this drive contained the proof.
Then the bedroom door slowly opened.
A police officer stood there.
"Mr. Baldric?"
"What?"
"We found someone downstairs."
"Who?"
The officer looked uncomfortable.
"Your financial adviser."
My blood ran cold.
"What is he doing here?"
The officer swallowed.
"He says he came to see you."
I stared at the USB drive.
May you like
Then the officer added:
"And he says he knows exactly what's on it."
