Chapter 3 - THE BROTHER WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
"Get away from my brother!"
I pushed open Raymond Carter's office door so hard it struck the wall.
Noah jumped from his chair.
"Emma!"
Raymond didn't move.
He was a broad man in his early fifties, with silver at his temples and the same dark eyes as Daniel.
Unlike his younger brother, Raymond always smiled when he wanted something.
"Emma Bennett," he said pleasantly. "I was just having a conversation with Noah."
"Then why do you have a photograph of me outside my apartment?"
Raymond glanced at the picture.
"Security precautions."
"That photograph wasn't taken at this hotel."
"Employees sometimes become involved in sensitive matters. We have a responsibility to protect our interests."
Daniel entered behind me.
"Those interests don't include following my employees home."
Raymond's smile faded.
"Daniel. I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly."
I crossed the room and stood beside Noah.
"Are you okay?"
He nodded, but his hands were trembling.
Noah had worked part-time in the hotel pantry for six months while studying automotive technology at a community college.
He wasn't a troublemaker.
He was the kind of young man who apologized when somebody else bumped into him.
"What did he want?" I asked.
Noah looked at Raymond.
"He offered to help with my tuition."
I blinked.
"What?"
"He said he knew Mom, and that there were some family matters we should leave alone."
Raymond folded his hands.
"Your mother had a complicated history with this company. I thought the children deserved assistance without being dragged into unpleasant business."
"I'm not a child," Noah said.
Something changed in Raymond's expression.
"No. You're certainly not."
Daniel picked up the photograph.
"Who authorized this surveillance?"
Raymond leaned back.
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because the Bennetts are connected to a very old problem, Daniel. One you apparently haven't learned to leave buried."
The room became silent.
I took the brass key from my pocket.
"What does H-3 mean?"
Raymond's eyes dropped to it.
For the first time, his expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"Where did you get that?"
"My mother."
"She shouldn't have kept it."
Daniel stepped closer.
"Why not?"
Raymond stood.
"Because Claire Bennett stole materials from our company sixteen years ago."
"No," Daniel said.
"You've always refused to consider that possibility."
"Because I knew Claire."
Raymond gave a humorless laugh.
"And I knew her better than you think."
I felt Noah move beside me.
Raymond continued.
"After the Hawthorne fire, several financial records disappeared. So did money from the emergency housing fund. Claire was responsible for handling some of those records."
"My mother was a laundry employee," I said.
"She also volunteered to reconcile the charity's supply accounts."
"That doesn't make her a thief."
"No. But leaving town immediately afterward made her look rather guilty."
The words hurt because they touched the question that had haunted me since childhood.
Why had Mom left?
Why hadn't she written?
Why had sixteen birthdays passed without a single explanation?
Daniel faced Raymond.
"You told me Claire boarded a bus to St. Louis."
"That's what our investigator found."
"You also told me the search ended there."
"It did."
"Then explain why you're watching her children sixteen years later."
Raymond said nothing.
Daniel slowly placed the photograph back on the desk.
"You're no longer handling anything connected to Emma, Noah, or the Hawthorne investigation."
Raymond's jaw tightened.
"You'd choose a housemaid over your own brother?"
Daniel's answer came without hesitation.
"I'm choosing the truth."
Raymond looked at me with an expression I couldn't read.
"Be careful, Emma. Your mother asked questions too. Look where it got her."
I felt Noah grip my hand.
Daniel moved between us.
"That's enough."
Raymond turned away.
But as we reached the door, he spoke again.
"Daniel, remember who kept this family standing when Father died."
Daniel stopped.
"I remember."
"Then remember who cleaned up the mistakes you made."
We left without another word.
Inside the elevator, Noah finally spoke.
"Em, there's something I never told you."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"Before Aunt Mae died, she gave me one of Mom's old sewing boxes."
Aunt Mae had raised us after our mother vanished.
She was strict, loving, and determined that neither of us would grow up believing we were unwanted.
She died two years earlier.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because there wasn't much inside. Some buttons, needles, and an old photograph. But there was a note taped beneath the lid."
"What did it say?"
Noah swallowed.
"'If anyone asks about the yellow thread, don't give them the dress.'"
The elevator seemed to grow smaller.
"Why would Aunt Mae write that?"
"She said Mom made her promise to keep it safe."
Daniel looked at the key in my hand.
"Claire must have known someone would eventually come looking."
Noah studied him.
"Mr. Carter, did you really know our mother?"
Daniel nodded.
"She helped me during one of the worst times of my life."
"Then why didn't you help her?"
Daniel looked away.
For a moment, the powerful man who owned half the buildings along Chicago's riverfront looked strangely defeated.
"Because I trusted the wrong person."
We reached the ground floor.
Daniel didn't move toward the doors.
Instead, he turned to me.
"Emma, before you trust me with another piece of your mother's story, there's something you deserve to know."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"The Hawthorne building was supposed to be evacuated before the fire."
I waited.
Daniel's eyes filled with regret.
"The order authorizing that operation had my signature."
My stomach tightened.
"You signed it?"
"Yes."
"And people died?"
"Four people."
I took a step backward.
For sixteen years, I'd imagined my mother's disappearance was the result of some terrible stranger.
Now I was standing in front of a man who had known her.
A man who claimed to have searched for her.
A man whose signature was connected to the tragedy she had been investigating.
Daniel looked directly at me.
"Emma, I was told every resident had already been moved."
"By whom?"
He hesitated.
May you like
Then he answered.
"My brother Raymond."
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