Claire remained motionless.
Her father took the photograph from her.
He turned it over.
“Who wrote this?”
“I don't know.”
Richard examined the ink.
“Recently written.”
Claire looked at him.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
The photograph itself was old, but the message was not.
Someone had placed it there deliberately.
Someone knew they would come looking.
Her father looked around the storage unit.
“Richard.”
“I know.”
They searched every box.
The documents were arranged too neatly to be random.
Copies of Claire's trust agreements.
Old employment records.
Daniel's tax returns.
A medical bill belonging to Marlene.
And several photographs from years before Claire had met Daniel.
There were no romantic pictures of Daniel and Marlene.
Instead, the images showed meetings.
Restaurants.
Parking lots.
Office entrances.
Always the same three or four people.
One man appeared repeatedly.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
Usually wearing a dark coat.
Claire didn't recognize him.
Her father did.
“Elliot Crane.”
She looked at him.
“Who is that?”
“Former financial adviser.”
“For Daniel?”
“No.”
“For you?”
“No.”
Her father stared at the photograph.
“For your grandfather.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“My grandfather?”
“He worked for him before you were born.”
Richard interrupted.
“There's something else.”
He had found a thin folder behind one of the cabinets.
It contained a single sheet.
A transfer authorization.
Claire's trust.
A beneficiary change.
She read the document.
Her name was listed as beneficiary.
But someone had attempted to add Daniel.
The request had been rejected.
Claire looked at her father.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
She looked at the date.
It was shortly after her wedding.
“Who submitted it?”
Richard pointed to the signature line.
Daniel.
Claire felt something inside her collapse quietly.
Daniel had tried to gain access to her trust.
He had failed.
Then, instead of telling her, he had built another route toward the money.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Her father looked pained.
“Because I didn't know.”
Richard shook his head.
“Someone stopped the request before it reached your father's office.”
“Who?”
He turned the paper over.
There was a handwritten note.
REJECTED BY E.C.
Claire looked at her father.
“Elliot Crane.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he stop it?”
“I don't know.”
A sound came from outside.
Footsteps.
Everyone froze.
The footsteps stopped at the door.
Then someone knocked.
Three times.
Richard moved toward the entrance.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
He opened the door.
Nobody stood there.
Only a small envelope rested on the floor.
Claire's father picked it up.
Inside was a key.
A brass key attached to a paper tag.
ROOM 9.
Claire looked at Richard.
“What is Room 9?”
“I don't know.”
Her father did.
“The old Meridian Hotel.”
Claire stared at him.
“Why would there be something there?”
“I don't know.”
“Dad.”
He looked at her.
“Your grandfather used to keep private records there.”
She felt a chill.
“You never told me.”
“I thought they were destroyed.”
Richard examined the key.
“There may be another problem.”
“What?”
“The Meridian Hotel closed fifteen years ago.”
Claire frowned.
“Then why would someone give us a key?”
No one answered.
That evening, Daniel finally called.
Claire almost didn't answer.
She did.
“Where are you?”
“At my mother's.”
“You went to her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed answers.”
“Did you get them?”
Silence.
Then Daniel said, “No.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“I found the storage unit.”
His breathing changed.
“You shouldn't have gone there.”
“You knew about it.”
“No.”
“You knew about Northbridge.”
“I knew the name.”
“You tried to change my trust.”
He went silent.
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I understood what was happening.”
Claire leaned against the window.
“Then tell me.”
“I can't over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know who's listening.”
She glanced at her father.
He was standing across the room.
“Daniel.”
“I need you to believe me.”
“I've been doing that for years.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
She ended the call.
Her father approached.
“What did he say?”
“That he doesn't know who's listening.”
Her father nodded slowly.
“Then perhaps someone has been listening.”
Claire held up the brass key.
“We're going to the hotel.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You just said—”
“I said we're going to find out what it means. We are not walking into an abandoned building at night.”
Claire almost smiled.
“Tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Richard nodded.
But before they could leave, Claire noticed something through the window.
A car was parked across the street.
Its headlights were off.
Someone was sitting inside.
Her father saw it too.
The car remained there for twelve minutes.
Then it drove away.
Richard wrote down the license plate.
Claire watched the taillights disappear.
The key in her hand suddenly felt heavier.
Someone wanted them to find Room 9.
And someone else clearly wanted to know whether they would.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Room Nine Held Nothing Worth Stealing Until Claire Found the One Record Her Family Had Buried for Decades
The Seat My Husband Refused Me Became the Smallest Part of What I Was About to Discover
Part 6 of 25
