Chapter 15 - A Traitor Inside Cross Manor
We returned to Cross Manor under military-level security.
No one entered.
No one left.
Every employee surrendered phones, badges, vehicle keys, and electronic devices.
Ethan hated doing it.
Some members of his household staff had worked for the Cross family since he was a teenager.
But the photograph from our kitchen could not be ignored.
Someone had penetrated our lives.
Marcus converted the library into a temporary command center.
Security feeds covered six screens.
“Twenty-eight employees had access to the Washington residence during the last six months,” he said. “Eleven have access here.”
“Family?” I asked.
“Only Ethan, you, Alexander, and Mrs. Cross’s mother during her last visit.”
Patricia sat near the fireplace.
She stiffened.
“You think I took photographs of my grandson?”
“No,” I said.
“But someone may have used your access.”
She lowered her eyes.
“I lost my security card in April.”
Marcus turned sharply.
“You reported it stolen.”
“I thought it was.”
“Where did you last remember having it?”
Patricia hesitated.
“At Allison’s apartment.”
The room went still.
Ethan looked at me.
I closed my eyes.
No.
Not Allison.
She had hurt me terribly, but I wanted to believe the woman who had begged forgiveness beside the Charles River had begun changing.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Marcus checked his tablet.
“She works at Harbor House.”
I knew the name.
A nonprofit shelter providing transitional housing for women leaving abusive relationships.
Allison had accepted an administrative position there eight months earlier.
“She actually kept the job?”
Patricia looked almost defensive.
“She works six days a week.”
That surprised me.
We drove to Boston.
Harbor House occupied an old brick building near Dorchester.
Allison stood behind the reception desk wearing a plain navy cardigan and reading glasses.
When she saw federal agents enter, the color drained from her face.
“Meredith?”
I walked toward her.
“We need to talk.”
Her office was barely larger than a closet.
No designer furniture.
No expensive flowers.
Just filing cabinets, a secondhand desk, and a photograph of Allison helping serve food at a shelter fundraiser.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Mother lost a Cross Industries security card at your apartment.”
Allison froze.
“When?”
“April.”
She stared at Patricia.
“You told me you canceled it.”
“I did.”
“Someone copied it first.”
Allison stood abruptly.
“I know who.”
My pulse jumped.
“Who?”
“My ex-husband.”
“Bradford?”
“He came to my apartment that week.”
“Why?”
“He wanted money.”
I almost laughed.
“What money?”
“He believed Dad had hidden assets.”
“Did you give him anything?”
“No.”
“He saw the card?”
“He was alone in the kitchen while Mom and I were arguing.”
Ethan pulled out his phone.
“Marcus, locate Bradford Wellington IV.”
A pause.
Then Marcus answered.
“He left the United States four months ago.”
“Where?”
“Portugal.”
“Current location?”
Another pause.
“Unknown.”
Allison’s face went pale.
“There’s more.”
“Tell me.”
She opened her desk drawer.
From beneath several files, she removed a business card.
No company name.
Only a telephone number and the embossed symbol of a crown above three waves.
My blood chilled.
“Where did you get this?”
“Bradford left it.”
“When?”
“The day Mom lost the card.”
“You kept it for six months?”
“I didn’t know what it meant.”
“You didn’t think the symbol was strange?”
“I thought it belonged to some private investment group.”
She looked ashamed.
“Bradford said people were offering him enough money to restore the Wellington fortune if he helped them recover something Robert had stolen.”
Ethan leaned closer.
“Did he say what?”
“No.”
“Names?”
“One.”
My heart accelerated.
“Reeves?”
“No.”
Allison shook her head.
“He called someone Mr. Vale.”
Marcus heard the name over Ethan’s phone.
Silence followed.
Then he said, “Leonard Vale?”
Allison snapped her fingers.
“Yes.”
Ethan cursed under his breath.
“Who is he?” I asked.
“Former chief financial officer of Cross Industries.”
The room seemed to contract.
“When?”
“During my father’s administration.”
“Is he still with the company?”
“No. He retired fourteen years ago.”
“After the warehouse fire?”
“Eight months after.”
I looked toward Allison.
“Did Bradford meet Vale?”
“I think so.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
She swallowed.
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“He offered me money too.”
“How much?”
“Five million dollars.”
Patricia gasped.
“For what?” I asked.
Allison’s eyes filled with tears.
“To help get close to you.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“And did you?”
“No!”
Her chair scraped backward.
“I swear. I refused.”
“How do we know?”
She looked directly at me.
“Because I spent my entire childhood taking from you.”
Her voice cracked.
“I’m trying not to be that person anymore.”
I studied her.
For the first time in my life, Allison wasn’t asking me to rescue her.
She was telling the truth even though it made her look terrible.
My phone rang.
Marcus’s team had located Leonard Vale.
He lived in a private retirement community outside Annapolis.
Or he had.
His house had burned to the ground thirty minutes earlier.
One body had been recovered.
Ethan stared at the phone.
“Can they identify it?”
“Not yet.”
Allison suddenly whispered, “Meredith.”
I turned.
She was staring through the office window.
A black sedan sat across the street.
The driver raised a phone.
A camera lens pointed directly at us.
Then the sedan accelerated away.
May you like
Allison went white.
“They found me.”
