Chapter 3: The Folder Behind the Third Rack
Dominic moved to the wine rack without a word.
Marcus held the light.
The beam swept across dusty bottles, iron brackets, the damp stone floor.
Dominic counted the racks from the door.
One.
Two.
Three.
He reached behind the third rack and found it immediately — a manila folder, thick with pages, sealed inside a clear plastic sleeve.
He pulled it out and stood.
"Mia." He kept his voice level.
"How did you find this?"
She was sitting upright now, Harper pressed against her side, both of Mia's hands wrapped around her daughter's.
Her wrists were swollen where the rope had been.
"Three weeks ago," she said.
"Claire left her laptop open in the study.
She thought I was in the east wing.
I saw a name on the screen.
Elena."
Dominic went still.
Elena Vale.
His first wife.
Gone four years.
"I didn't understand at first," Mia continued.
"I thought it was an old file.
But the date on the email was recent.
Two months ago.
And the person she was writing to — she called him R."
Dominic opened the folder.
The first page was a wire transfer record.
A number with seven digits.
The recipient account was registered in the Cayman Islands.
The date was eleven days before Elena's car went off the road on Route 9W.
The second page was a photograph.
Printed, not digital.
It showed two people in a parking garage.
One of them was Nathan Cross.
The other was a man Dominic did not recognize — heavyset, gray jacket, a phone to his ear.
"Who is R?" Dominic asked.
"I don't know his real name," Mia said.
"But there's a page near the back.
A contract.
It has a signature."
Dominic flipped toward the back of the folder.
His hands did not shake.
They never did.
But something behind his eyes changed — a slow, cold shift, the way a room changes when the last window goes dark.
The signature read: Raymond Holt.
He knew that name.
Raymond Holt had been the lead investigator on Elena's accident.
He had ruled it a single-vehicle collision.
Wet road, excessive speed, driver error.
Case closed in eleven days.
Eleven days.
The same number as the wire transfer.
"Daniel," Dominic said.
Daniel stepped forward from the doorway.
"Get Dr.
Reyes here.
Now.
Tell her it's a private call, no record." He looked at Mia.
"Can you walk?"
"Yes."
"Harper stays with you.
You go to the east bedroom.
You lock the door.
You don't open it for anyone except me or Daniel."
Mia nodded.
She stood slowly, pulling Harper up with her.
The little girl hadn't let go of her mother's hand since she ran across the cellar floor.
At the doorway, Mia paused.
"Mr.
Vale."
"Dominic."
She looked at him steadily.
"There's one more thing in that folder.
The last page.
I didn't understand it when I read it.
But I think you will."
He waited until he heard their footsteps reach the top of the iron staircase.
Then he turned to the last page.
It was a handwritten note.
Two lines only, in Claire's careful script.
*When he finds out, make sure he finds out too late.*
*The wedding is the deadline.*
Marcus looked at the note over Dominic's shoulder and said nothing.
May you like
Dominic closed the folder.
Upstairs, through the ceiling, he could hear the sound of Nathan Cross pacing.
