Chapter 13 - Vanessa’s Bargain
The call came from Vanessa at 6:12 the next morning.
I almost ignored it.
Probation had done nothing to improve my desire to hear her voice.
But something made me answer.
“What?”
She spoke quietly.
“Don't hang up.”
“Give me one reason.”
“Because someone offered me fifty thousand dollars to help them get into your house.”
Every trace of sleep vanished.
I sat upright.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Vanessa.”
“I swear.”
Daniel, who had stayed overnight in the guest wing because of the security breach, entered the kitchen as I put the call on speaker.
Vanessa continued.
“A man contacted me two weeks ago.”
“How?”
“Encrypted email.”
“For what?”
“He said he knew I used to have access to Pinecrest.”
The lodge had never been called Pinecrest Sovereign by anyone except Vanessa, and hearing the name made my jaw tighten.
“What did he want?”
“My old security codes. Floor plans. Information about Michael’s office.”
Daniel silently began recording notes.
“Did you give it to him?”
Long pause.
My stomach sank.
“Vanessa.”
“I gave him the old code.”
Rage exploded through me.
“You what?”
“I thought it didn't work!”
“You sold someone access to my home?”
“I was desperate!”
“You are on felony probation!”
“I KNOW!”
Her scream broke into sobs.
“I know, Rebecca. I know what I did.”
Daniel mouthed, Keep her talking.
“How much did he pay?”
“Ten thousand upfront. He promised forty after.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Vanessa hadn't learned morality.
She had learned fear.
“What information did you give him?”
“Just the old code and some photos.”
“What photos?”
“Pictures from when I was operating the retreat.”
“Including Michael’s office?”
“Yes.”
Daniel leaned toward the phone.
“Vanessa, this is Daniel Vance. Did the buyer ask specifically about a brown leather document case?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
My heart thudded.
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“That I'd seen one in the bottom desk drawer.”
“You knew it was there?”
“I saw it when I was clearing things out.”
I gripped the counter.
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Don't lie.”
“I didn't! I opened it, but it was locked. I thought it was old paperwork.”
Daniel asked, “Why are you telling us now?”
Vanessa sniffed.
“Because they contacted me again yesterday.”
“What did they want?”
“They said the case was empty.”
Daniel's eyebrows rose.
I stared at him.
Empty?
Vanessa continued.
“They accused me of lying about where Michael kept the real documents.”
“And?”
“And then they sent me a picture.”
Her voice changed.
Fear replaced self-pity.
“What picture?”
“My apartment.”
Daniel and I went still.
“They photographed me through the living-room window.”
For the first time since this began, I heard something from Vanessa that sounded genuine.
“I think they're watching me.”
I hated what she had done.
I hated the entitlement that had nearly cost me my home.
But she was still my sister.
And whoever was manipulating her was more dangerous than her greed.
“Go directly to your probation officer,” Daniel ordered. “Do not stop anywhere else. Tell them you need law-enforcement protection and that your attorney will contact them.”
“My attorney quit.”
“I didn't say your attorney. I said I would contact them.”
Vanessa went silent.
“Why would you help me?”
I looked at Michael’s photograph across the room.
“Because helping you survive isn't the same as forgiving you.”
She began crying harder.
Before hanging up, she gave us the encrypted email address.
Daniel forwarded it to an investigator.
Then he turned to me.
“If whoever entered the lodge found the document case empty, that means Michael moved the evidence.”
“Or someone else got there first.”
“Maybe.”
I walked into Michael’s drafting room.
For fifteen minutes, I stood among his old tools.
Then something caught my attention.
One of the architectural models on the upper shelf.
A miniature version of our lodge.
Michael built it before construction began.
I remembered teasing him because the tiny chimney could be removed.
I climbed onto a chair.
Pulled the model down.
The chimney came free.
Inside was a small brass key.
Daniel stared.
I laughed once, breathlessly.
“That stubborn man.”
We searched the desk again.
The key fit nothing.
Then I remembered the antique drafting table Michael had bought in Santa Fe.
Underneath it was a narrow wooden compartment I had always assumed was decorative.
The key slid into a nearly invisible brass opening.
Click.
A hidden drawer released.
Inside was a waterproof black envelope.
May you like
And across the front, in Michael’s handwriting, were four words.
FOR REBECCA. IF NECESSARY.
