Chapter 13 - The Second Key
"What stock certificates?" I stood up so fast my chair rolled backward, slamming into the wall. "My safe only holds my personal passport, my grandmother's jewelry, and my original condo deed!"
Hayes’s face tightened. "Adrian claims he switched out the contents of your wall safe three months ago. He used a duplicate key and a forged electronic master code. According to him, that safe currently contains bearer bonds and physical stock certificates worth twelve million dollars—diverted from Arthur’s estate before the poison took effect."
"And who did he tell?" Rebecca demanded, her voice rising in panic. "Who is this second party?"
"Eleanor's brother," Hayes said, his voice dropping into a dark, urgent tone. "Richard Vance. Not related to our agent. He’s the managing director of a private maritime security firm out of Oakland. Ex-military contractors."
My blood ran cold.
Uncle Richard. The silent giant who had sat at the far corner of the dining room last night, the one who hadn't said a single word while Adrian divided up my life. When the plate had cracked across my skull, Richard hadn't gasped. He hadn't reached for his wine. He had simply stood up, tapped his pocket, and quietly walked out the side terrace doors ten minutes before the first patrol cruiser arrived.
I thought he was just another coward running from a family scandal.
"He's not ex-military," Maya said, her face draining of what little color remained. "He runs an offshore enforcement outfit. When Charles needed people silenced in Europe, Richard handled it. If he's going to Claire's condo, he isn't going there to steal paper. He's going there to clean house."
Hayes was already on his feet, barking orders into his desk phone. "Get SFPD dispatch on the line! I need a tactical unit at 2240 Green Street, Pacific Heights, immediately! Priority one! Suspects may be heavily armed and executing an extraction!"
"No," I said, cold dread tightening like a noose around my throat. "SFPD won't get there in time. The Green Street building has private concierge security. If Richard flashes his family credentials, the desk clerk will let him straight up to the penthouse elevators. He knows the building codes—Adrian gave them to him!"
"Claire, sit down!" Hayes commanded. "You are under federal protection! You are not going anywhere near that building!"
"My cat is in that apartment," I said, my voice dropping into a register so dangerously low that the prosecutor actually stopped mid-sentence. "My entire life is in that apartment. I am not letting that butcher burn my home to the ground to cover your paper trail."
"Agent Miller," Hayes barked, turning to the Napa sergeant who had remained stationed at the conference room door. "Restrain her if you have to."
Miller looked at Hayes. Then he looked at the fresh stitches in my hairline, the dark bruises blooming across my cheek, and the sheer, unyielding steel in my eyes.
"With all due respect, Mr. Hayes," Miller said, reaching for his tactical jacket and checking his sidearm. "SFPD traffic is backed up across the Bay Bridge due to an overturned tanker. My unmarked unit is parked in the basement sally port with emergency lights and a siren. We can be in Pacific Heights in six minutes. Your tactical team is fifteen minutes out."
Hayes stared at Miller in disbelief. "You're crossing jurisdictional lines, Sergeant!"
"I'm escorting a primary federal witness to secure a compromised crime scene," Miller fired back, hitting the button to open the conference room door. "Let's move, Claire."
Rebecca sprang up from her chair. "Take this," she said, pulling a heavy brass key from the pocket of her fleece jacket.
I looked at it. "What is it?"
"It's the manual override key to the Green Street building's freight elevator," Rebecca said, her sunken eyes blazing with fierce solidarity. "Adrian kept it in his desk at the vineyard. I took it out of his lockbox before Charles threw me in that vault. If Richard takes the main elevators, he has to wait for the penthouse security clearance. The freight elevator goes straight into the utility corridor behind your kitchen."
I gripped the brass key tightly in my fist. "Thank you."
"Claire," Rebecca called out as I reached the door.
I turned back.
May you like
"Don't hesitate," she warned, her ruined voice echoing off the sterile walls. "They don't view you as human. Don't make the mistake of treating them like they are."
I didn't answer. I turned and ran with Miller down the long corridor toward the elevators, the heavy thud of our boots sounding like the opening drums of a war that had finally reached my front door.
