Chapter 5
Everyone dropped.
I grabbed Sophie and pulled her to the concrete floor.
Police shouted.
David screamed.
For one terrible second, I thought he had been shot.
Then Mark fell.
Blood spread across the shoulder of his coat.
The bullet had come from the upper walkway.
Officers rushed toward the stairs.
Mark cursed and dragged himself behind a storage crate.
Laura crawled toward Sophie.
“Baby.”
Sophie turned her face away.
That hurt Laura more than the gunshot seemed to hurt Mark.
Another shot exploded.
Metal sparked inches from David.
“Down!”
I covered Sophie’s head with my body.
Her hands clutched my shirt.
“Hannah, I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“I want to go home.”
“You will.”
Above us, boots thundered across metal.
Someone crashed through a side door.
An officer yelled that the shooter was fleeing toward the water.
Mark pressed one hand to his shoulder.
He was pale but conscious.
David stared at him.
“Who is shooting at us?”
Mark laughed through clenched teeth.
“Now you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“We’re not the only ones looking for the ledger.”
Police secured the building.
Paramedics arrived.
Sophie refused to leave me.
She wouldn’t look at Laura.
Mark was handcuffed to a stretcher.
Before they took him away, he called my name.
“Hannah.”
I ignored him.
“Your father hid the ledger where nobody would think to look.”
I turned.
“Where?”
Mark smiled weakly.
“He told you.”
“I was twenty-one when he died.”
“He told you long before that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You will.”
Then the paramedics rolled him away.
Laura was placed in handcuffs.
This time, no lawyer was taking her anywhere.
David stood several feet away, staring at her.
“You brought Sophie here.”
Laura’s eyes filled.
“I had no choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
“Mark threatened Noah.”
“And you didn’t call the police?”
“He said he had people watching the house.”
“You could’ve told me.”
Laura laughed bitterly.
“When have you ever told anyone the truth, David?”
He flinched.
She looked toward me.
“Ask him who called him the night your father died.”
I felt my body go cold again.
David closed his eyes.
Laura was taken away before I could ask more.
At the hospital, Sophie was checked for injuries.
She was physically okay.
Emotionally, she barely spoke.
David sat outside the room with Noah asleep across his lap.
I stood opposite him.
“Who called you?”
He knew exactly what I meant.
“Hannah.”
“Who called you the night my father died?”
He looked toward Sophie’s room.
“Charles Vale.”
Mark’s father.
I sat down.
“Why?”
“He wanted to know whether your father had given me anything.”
“The ledger?”
“I assume so.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know what he was talking about.”
“And then?”
“He told me your father had been in an accident.”
My stomach tightened.
“How did he know?”
“I asked the same thing.”
“What did he say?”
“He hung up.”
I stared at him.
“And you never told police?”
“I did.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
For once, the answer surprised me.
“The detective said Charles claimed he heard about the accident from someone at the hospital.”
“Was that true?”
“I never knew.”
“What happened to Charles?”
“Three years later, he went to federal prison for fraud and money laundering.”
“And Mark took over.”
“Yes.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What was my father involved in?”
“Your father discovered Charles was using one of our supplier networks to move stolen electronics and launder money through fake invoices.”
I stared.
“Your company?”
“The company that became mine, yes.”
“Did you know?”
“Not at first.”
“But later?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you do?”
“I wanted to go to the police.”
He looked down.
“Your father wanted proof first.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“What was in it?”
“Dates. Transfers. Shell companies. Names. Payments.”
“Enough to destroy Charles?”
“Enough to destroy a lot of people.”
A nurse came out.
“Sophie is asking for Hannah.”
David looked at me.
I went inside.
Sophie sat beneath a white blanket.
Her hair was tangled.
She looked smaller than eight.
I sat beside her.
“Hey.”
She leaned against me.
“Is Mom going to jail?”
“I don’t know.”
“She said she was protecting Noah.”
“She may believe that.”
Sophie was quiet.
Then she whispered, “She told Mark where Grandpa keeps things.”
I frowned.
“Grandpa?”
“My dad’s dad.”
“Your grandfather?”
She nodded.
“He came over last month. Mom asked him about old boxes.”
My heart jumped.
“Did he answer?”
“He said everything from Dad’s old business was at the cabin.”
I stood.
“What cabin?”
Sophie looked surprised.
“Grandpa’s cabin in Vermont.”
David was on his feet when I came into the hallway.
“Your father has business records at a cabin?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you mention that?”
“Because I didn’t think—”
“Stop saying that.”
Noah stirred.
David lowered his voice.
“My father kept old files after we closed the repair shop.”
“Where is this cabin?”
“Near Stowe.”
“When were you last there?”
“Years ago.”
“We’re going.”
“The police will handle it.”
“Your wife already knew about it.”
He went still.
“What?”
“Sophie heard Laura asking your father about old boxes.”
His face changed.
We called the detective.
Within an hour, Vermont authorities were notified.
David’s father, Robert Miller, didn’t answer his phone.
By dawn, police went to his Boston apartment.
Empty.
No signs of struggle.
His car was gone.
David called him again and again.
Nothing.
At 8:16 a.m., his phone finally rang.
He answered on speaker.
“Dad?”
A man’s voice replied.
Not Robert.
“David.”
Mark.
David stood.
“You’re in police custody.”
Mark laughed.
“Was.”
My stomach dropped.
“What do you want?”
“The same thing everyone wants.”
“The ledger.”
“Very good.”
“How did you get out?”
“You’d be surprised what money can do.”
I looked at the detective.
His face had gone hard.
Mark continued.
“Tell Hannah to come to Vermont.”
“No,” David said immediately.
Mark ignored him.
“She brings the letter her father left her.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“Why?”
“Hannah.”
His voice softened.
“Your father didn’t trust David.”
“I’m beginning to understand why.”
“He didn’t trust me either.”
“Smart man.”
Mark actually laughed.
“He was.”
My throat tightened.
“You said he told me where the ledger was.”
“He did.”
“When?”
“When you were twelve.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Think about the summer your father took you camping.”
My mind stopped.
There had only been one camping trip.
Vermont.
I remembered rain.
A lake.
My father teaching me how to make a fire.
And a strange night when he woke me and made me promise something.
If anything ever happens to me, remember where we buried the treasure.
At the time, I thought it was a game.
My breath caught.
David saw my face.
“What?”
I whispered, “I know where it is.”
Mark heard me.
“I knew you would remember.”
David grabbed the phone.
“You stay away from her.”
Mark’s voice changed.
“Bring the ledger before noon.”
“Or what?”
There was a pause.
Then another voice came onto the line.
An older man.
Weak.
“David?”
David went white.
“Dad?”
Robert Miller sounded terrified.
“Don’t come.”
The line went dead.
We drove to Vermont with police behind us.
I remembered the camping trip piece by piece.
I had been twelve.
My father had driven us north after my mother’s death.
He said we both needed air.
We stayed near a small lake surrounded by pine trees.
One afternoon, he gave me an old metal lunchbox.
“Treasure chest,” he called it.
We put inside a photograph of Mom.
A baseball card.
Three pennies.
And a folded piece of paper I never read.
Then we buried it beneath a tree with two trunks.
I had forgotten the entire thing.
Until now.
The Miller cabin was six miles from that campsite.
That wasn’t a coincidence.
By late morning we reached the property.
Robert’s car sat outside.
The cabin door was open.
Police entered first.
Empty.
David found blood on the kitchen floor.
Not much.
But enough.
Then I noticed something scratched into the wooden table.
Three letters.
H C T.
David frowned.
“What does that mean?”
I knew immediately.
“Hannah Carter’s treasure.”
My father used to write HCT on birthday treasure maps when I was little.
My heart pounded.
I looked out the back window.
Beyond the trees was a trail.
The same trail from my memory.
We followed it toward the lake.
Police spread through the woods.
Ten minutes later, I saw the tree.
Two trunks growing from one base.
I dropped to my knees.
The ground looked disturbed.
Someone had already dug there.
“No.”
I clawed through loose dirt.
David joined me.
Nothing.
The lunchbox was gone.
Then I noticed a small rusted piece of metal beneath one root.
A broken latch.
Someone had found it.
A phone rang behind us.
Not mine.
David’s.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Mark said, “Too late.”
My heart sank.
Then he added, “But your father fooled all of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“The box was empty.”
I stared at the tree.
Mark sounded almost amused.
“Hannah, your father moved the real ledger.”
“Where?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be calling.”
“Then why are you calling?”
His next words changed everything.
“Because Robert Miller knows.”
David’s face drained.
Mark continued.
“And he just told me something I think you’ll want to hear.”
May you like
“What?”
“Your father was alive after the crash.”
