Chapter Five

KAEL

“Turn the car around.”

My driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror.

“Sir?”

“Back to Manhattan. Now.”

Beside me, Serena was still staring at my phone.

She hadn’t said anything since I’d shown her the photograph. For someone who’d spent the better part of an hour arguing with me, the silence was unsettling.

“That’s my apartment,” she finally said.

“I know.”

“Someone took that yesterday?”

“Yes.”

She looked at me. “How do you know?”

I glanced at the photograph again.

Same cream blouse she’d been wearing when she left her parents’ house. Same handbag. The timestamp in the corner confirmed it had been taken Saturday afternoon.

“I recognized your clothes.”

She looked down at herself.

“Right.”

The car slowed at an intersection before making a turn.

I forwarded the message to Damon.

Find out where this came from. Trace the number. And get someone to check the location in the photograph.

His response came almost immediately.

On it. What’s going on?

I’ll explain later.

I put my phone away.

“Who knows about our meeting?” I asked.

Serena turned toward me.

“What?”

“Who did you tell?”

Her expression changed.

“Excuse me?”

“Did you tell anyone you were coming to my office?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“My best friend.”

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“Did she tell anyone?”

“How would I know?”

I looked at her.

She folded her arms.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m being interrogated.”

“I’m trying to establish who knew where you were.”

“Then ask like a normal person.”

I exhaled.

This woman was going to give me a headache.

“Serena, someone has been following you. Someone also knew about our meeting before we reached the man in Brooklyn. I need to know who had that information.”

She looked away.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she reached into her bag and took out her phone.

“I told Nina. That’s it.”

“What’s her full name?”

“Nina Bennett.”

I made a mental note.

“How long have you known her?”

She gave me an incredulous look.

“Are you seriously investigating my best friend now?”

“I’m asking a question.”

“Since college. She’s not involved in this.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know Nina.”

“And I knew Vivienne.”

The words came out before I could stop them.

Serena went still.

I regretted it immediately.

Not because I disagreed with what I’d said.

Because I’d seen the expression on her face when we discussed Vivienne earlier. I knew what the woman had meant to her.

There were better ways to make my point.

“That wasn’t necessary,” I said.

She stared at me.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“An almost-apology. From Kael Blackwell. Should I write down the date?”

I looked away.

“Forget it.”

“No, no. I want to remember this moment.”

“Serena.”

“Fine.”

She settled back against the seat.

But the smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had come.

“What happens now?”

“We find out who’s watching you.”

“And until then?”

I considered my answer.

She wasn’t going to like it.

“You shouldn’t go home.”

She turned toward me.

“Absolutely not.”

I hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Someone knows where you live.”

“So do half the delivery drivers in Manhattan.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then stop treating it like a joke.”

Her expression hardened.

“I’m not.”

I looked at her.

She looked back.

For the first time, I noticed how tightly she was holding her phone.

Her knuckles had gone pale.

She was frightened.

She simply wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of seeing it.

I understood that better than she probably realized.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked.

She blinked.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to go home, where would you feel comfortable staying?”

She studied me suspiciously.

“You’re asking?”

“Apparently, it’s something I need to practice.”

Her mouth twitched.

Then she looked out the window.

“Nina’s.”

I nodded.

“Give the driver the address.”

She hesitated.

“Just like that?”

“Would you prefer an argument?”

“You’re being strangely cooperative.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

She gave the driver Nina’s address.

I took out my phone again.

⸻

Damon called twelve minutes later.

“Tell me you’ve got something,” I said.

“Hello to you too.”

“Damon.”

“Fine. The number was generated through an encrypted messaging service. We’re working on it.”

“And the photograph?”

“Taken outside Serena Sinclair’s apartment yesterday afternoon. Whoever took it was across the street.”

“Security cameras?”

“There’s a pharmacy on the corner. I’m trying to get the footage.”

I glanced at Serena.

She was pretending not to listen.

She wasn’t doing a particularly convincing job.

“What about the man in Brooklyn?”

Damon went quiet.

That was never a good sign.

“His name is Martin Keller, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Martin Keller apparently checked out of his apartment yesterday.”

I sat straighter.

“What?”

“His landlord says he packed a suitcase and left around six yesterday evening.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because my investigator spoke to him this morning.”

“Then either your investigator is lying, or someone else answered Martin’s phone.”

I looked toward the front of the car.

My driver kept his eyes on the road.

“Find Keller.”

“Already trying.”

“And Damon?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep this between us.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Does Victor know you’re investigating again?”

I stared out the window.

My uncle.

The man who had raised me after my parents died.

The man who’d taught me how to ride a bicycle, how to negotiate a contract, and how to recognize when someone was trying to take advantage of me.

“No,” I said.

“Are you sure?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Damon sighed.

“Kael, you know I respect Victor, but if you’re digging into something that happened when he and Vivienne were together, you should probably consider the possibility that—”

“Don’t.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll call you later.”

I ended the call.

Serena turned toward me.

“Who’s Victor?”

I looked at her.

“You know who Victor is.”

“I know he’s your uncle. I meant why did your friend bring him up?”

I hadn’t realized she’d heard that much.

“Because Vivienne was involved with him.”

“I’m aware of that. And?”

“And nothing.”

She gave me a look.

I was beginning to recognize that look.

It meant she thought I was an idiot.

“You really don’t like talking about him, do you?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Right.”

She looked away.

I should have left it there.

Instead, I heard myself say, “He raised me.”

She turned back.

I kept my eyes on the road ahead.

“My parents died when I was little. Victor took me in. He didn’t have to.”

“Was he married?”

“No.”

“So it was just the two of you?”

“Mostly.”

“And Vivienne?”

I hesitated.

“She was around.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one I’m giving you.”

Serena sighed.

“You’re exhausting.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She was quiet for a moment.

Then she asked, “Did you love her?”

I turned toward her.

“Who?”

“Vivienne.”

The question caught me off guard.

I looked away.

There were things I could discuss without difficulty.

Business. Money. Contracts. Even death, provided I didn’t have to talk about how it felt.

Vivienne was different.

She’d been there when I was a child who couldn’t understand why his parents weren’t coming home.

She’d sat beside my bed when I had nightmares.

She’d made me pancakes on Sundays because Victor was usually working.

She’d remembered my birthday when everyone else seemed more interested in discussing what I would inherit.

For years, she’d been the closest thing I’d had to a mother.

And then she’d betrayed us.

At least, that was what Victor had told me.

“Yes,” I said eventually.

Serena didn’t speak.

I looked at her.

She was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop staring.”

She turned toward the window.

“You’re welcome.”

I frowned.

“For what?”

“For not making a joke.”

I almost smiled.

Almost.

⸻

Nina Bennett lived in Chelsea.

The building was modern, with a doorman and a private underground parking area. Better security than Serena’s apartment, although I wasn’t particularly impressed by the cameras near the entrance.

I’d have someone check them.

The driver pulled into the underground parking area.

Serena reached for the door.

“Wait.”

She stopped.

I got out first.

A security guard stationed near the elevators looked up as I approached.

I showed him my identification and asked whether anyone unfamiliar had been hanging around the building.

He looked confused.

“No, sir.”

“Any deliveries for Miss Bennett today?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

I nodded and returned to the car.

Serena was standing beside it with her arms folded.

“Finished?”

“For now.”

“Wonderful. Can I go see my friend, or do you need to interrogate the parking meters?”

I ignored that.

“Call her.”

“Why?”

“Tell her you’re here.”

She stared at me.

Then she took out her phone.

“You’re very bossy.”

“I’ve heard.”

Nina answered on the second ring.

“Serena?”

“Hey. I’m downstairs.”

“Downstairs where?”

“Your building.”

A pause.

“What?”

“Surprise?”

“Serena, what happened?”

“I’ll explain upstairs.”

“Are you okay?”

Serena glanced at me.

“Yes.”

It was a lie.

A convincing one, though.

“I’ll come down,” Nina said.

“No need. I’m coming up.”

She ended the call.

Then she looked at me.

“Happy?”

“Not particularly.”

“That makes two of us.”

We headed toward the elevators.

⸻

Nina opened her apartment door before we reached it.

“Serena, what the hell—”

She stopped.

Her eyes moved from Serena to me.

Then back to Serena.

Then to me again.

“Oh.”

Serena sighed.

“Nina.”

“Oh.”

“Nina, please.”

Nina blinked.

Then she smiled.

A very large smile.

“Kael Blackwell.”

I nodded.

“Miss Bennett.”

She looked delighted.

I had no idea why.

“Wow.”

Serena covered her face with one hand.

“Please don’t.”

Nina stepped aside.

“Come in.”

Her apartment was filled with plants.

An unreasonable number of plants.

There were plants hanging from the ceiling, plants on the windowsills, and several large ones occupying corners that could have been used for actual furniture.

I looked around.

Serena noticed.

“Don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“Thinking what?”

“That she owns too many plants.”

Nina gasped.

“There’s no such thing.”

I decided not to argue.

Serena dropped her bag on the sofa.

“Nina, something happened.”

Her friend’s smile disappeared.

“What?”

Serena glanced at me.

I nodded.

She took out her phone and showed Nina the photograph.

Nina’s face drained of color.

“Who sent this?”

“We don’t know,” Serena said.

“Someone’s following you?”

“Apparently.”

Nina looked at me.

“And what are you doing about it?”

I liked her considerably more after that question.

“Trying to identify whoever sent it.”

“Trying?”

“Nina,” Serena said.

“No. Someone threatened my best friend. I think I’m allowed to ask questions.”

“Of course you are,” I said.

Nina folded her arms.

“Good.”

Serena looked between us.

“Oh, fantastic. You’ve known each other for thirty seconds, and you’re already teaming up against me.”

“Nobody’s teaming up against you,” Nina said.

“Then why are you both looking at me like I’m about to run into traffic?”

I didn’t answer.

Neither did Nina.

Serena threw her hands up.

“Unbelievable.”

Despite everything, I found myself amused.

⸻

I stayed long enough to check the apartment’s entrances and speak to the building manager about security.

Nina followed me around asking questions.

Serena sat on the sofa, eating something from a takeaway carton and complaining that we were behaving like she’d been placed under house arrest.

At one point, Nina asked whether I wanted coffee.

Before I could answer, Serena said, “Don’t bother. He probably only drinks water imported from the Alps.”

I looked at her.

“Coffee’s fine.”

She blinked.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Normal coffee?”

“Preferably.”

“With actual milk?”

I stared at her.

Nina burst out laughing.

I was beginning to understand why these two were friends.

When Nina disappeared into the kitchen, Serena looked at me.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because I want to make sure you’re safe.”

She studied me.

For once, she didn’t have a sarcastic response ready.

Then she looked down at the carton in her lap.

“I’m not used to this.”

“To what?”

“People making a fuss.”

I frowned.

“Your parents seem quite capable of making a fuss.”

She laughed quietly.

“Yeah. About the wrong things.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

She picked at her food.

“My dad called me this morning to lecture me about embarrassing the family at your gala.”

I leaned against the armchair opposite her.

“Did he?”

“Apparently, arguing with you is a serious offense.”

“Depends on the argument.”

She looked up.

I allowed myself a small smile.

She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t encourage yourself.”

I sat.

“What else did he say?”

Her expression changed.

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

“About my father?”

“About what he said.”

She considered me for a moment.

Then she put down her fork.

“He told me not to talk about Vivienne.”

I didn’t move.

“Those exact words?”

“Not exactly. He said some things were better left in the past. Then he asked whether I’d told you anything about her.”

Interesting.

“What did you say?”

“That I didn’t know what he wanted me to tell you.”

“And?”

“He wouldn’t explain.”

I looked toward the window.

Richard Sinclair had been uncomfortable when I’d mentioned Vivienne at the gala.

Now he was actively discouraging his daughter from discussing her.

That was worth remembering.

“Kael?”

I looked back.

Serena was watching me.

“Whatever you’re thinking, say it.”

“Your father knows something.”

She sighed.

“I figured that out yesterday.”

“More than he’s admitting.”

“Again, not exactly breaking news.”

I almost laughed.

She leaned forward.

“But here’s what I don’t understand. If Vivienne was involved in something illegal, why would my father care whether I talked about her?”

“Because whatever happened might involve him.”

She looked down.

I watched her carefully.

For all her jokes, Serena wasn’t foolish.

She understood what that possibility meant.

She just didn’t want to believe it.

“He’s not a bad man,” she said quietly.

I said nothing.

She looked at me.

“My father can be controlling. He’s stubborn, and sometimes he makes me feel like I’m twelve. But he’s not…”

She stopped.

I waited.

“He’s not someone who would hurt Vivienne.”

“You don’t know that.”

Her eyes flashed.

“Don’t.”

I held her gaze.

Then I nodded.

“All right.”

She looked surprised.

I was getting used to that reaction.

Apparently, everyone expected me to argue until they gave up.

To be fair, they weren’t entirely wrong.

But there was no point pushing Serena when she was already struggling with the possibility that her father had lied to her.

Not yet.

⸻

I left Nina’s apartment shortly after five.

Before leaving, I gave Serena my number.

She stared at the contact on her screen.

“You could’ve just texted me.”

“I did.”

“From an unknown number.”

“Now you know it.”

She looked at the contact name.

Then she smiled.

I narrowed my eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Serena.”

She turned the phone toward me.

She’d saved my number as:

KAEL BLACKWELL — DO NOT ARGUE WITH THIS MAN

I stared at it.

Nina, standing behind her, started laughing.

I looked at Serena.

“Very mature.”

“Thank you.”

“Change it.”

“No.”

I considered taking the phone from her.

Then decided against it.

“Call me if anything happens.”

She nodded.

“Okay.”

I waited.

She raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“You’re not going to argue?”

“I can, if you’d prefer.”

“Goodbye, Serena.”

“Bye, Mr. Blackwell.”

I left before she could say anything else.

⸻

By six thirty, I was back at my office.

Damon was waiting.

He’d made himself comfortable in my chair, with his feet resting on my desk.

I stopped in the doorway.

“Get your feet off my desk.”

He looked up.

“Hello to you too.”

“Damon.”

He lowered his feet.

“You’re in a wonderful mood.”

I walked behind the desk.

“Tell me what you found.”

He handed me a tablet.

“First, the good news. We got footage from the pharmacy opposite Serena’s apartment.”

I opened the video.

The recording showed a quiet street.

A few pedestrians.

Two cars passing.

Then Serena appeared, walking toward her building.

A man stood across the street, pretending to look at his phone.

As she approached the entrance, he raised it.

Took a photograph.

Then walked away.

I paused the video.

“Can you identify him?”

“Not yet. He’s wearing a cap, and the angle isn’t great.”

“Vehicle?”

“He got into a black sedan around the corner.”

“Plate?”

“Obscured.”

I exhaled.

“Of course.”

Damon leaned against the desk.

“Now for the bad news.”

I looked at him.

“There’s more?”

“Martin Keller.”

I straightened.

“What about him?”

“We found his car.”

“Where?”

“Long Island.”

“Was he in it?”

Damon shook his head.

“Abandoned. Keys still in the ignition.”

I stared at him.

“Any signs of a struggle?”

“Not that we know of.”

“Who found it?”

“A patrol officer. The car was parked illegally near a service road.”

I looked back at the tablet.

Something wasn’t right.

Keller had agreed to meet us.

Then he’d disappeared.

Someone had photographed Serena.

And whoever sent the threat knew enough about my investigation to warn me directly.

“There’s something else,” Damon said.

I looked up.

He hesitated.

That was unusual.

Damon rarely hesitated.

“What?”

He reached into his jacket and took out a folded piece of paper.

“This was delivered to your office an hour ago.”

I frowned.

“By who?”

“Courier. No return address.”

He handed it to me.

Inside was a photograph.

Old.

Slightly faded.

Vivienne stood beside a car, wearing a cream-colored coat.

I recognized the photograph immediately.

I’d seen it before.

Years ago.

But this copy was different.

Someone had written something on the back.

I turned it over.

Four words.

ASK VICTOR ABOUT OCTOBER.

I stared at the handwriting.

Damon watched me.

“Kael?”

I didn’t answer.

October.

The month Vivienne died.

The month Victor had told me she was planning to leave the country.

The month everything changed.

I looked at Damon.

“Where’s my uncle?”

He frowned.

“Victor?”

“Yes.”

“Last I heard, he was at his estate.”

I picked up my phone.

Damon straightened.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling him.”

“Kael, wait.”

I looked at him.

He gestured toward the photograph.

“Someone sent that anonymously. You don’t know who. You don’t know what they want.”

“I know what they’re suggesting.”

“Exactly. Suggesting. That’s not proof.”

I stared at him.

He continued.

“Think about it. Someone threatens Serena, Keller disappears, and suddenly a photograph arrives telling you to question Victor. Doesn’t that seem a little convenient?”

He had a point.

I hated that.

I lowered my phone.

Damon exhaled.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

I looked at the photograph again.

Vivienne’s smile.

The car.

The handwriting.

I remembered the last time I’d seen her alive.

She’d been standing outside Victor’s study, holding a folder against her chest.

She’d looked frightened.

I’d asked what was wrong.

She’d told me to go upstairs.

Three weeks later, she was dead.

And Victor had told me she’d betrayed us.

I closed my eyes.

For years, I’d accepted that explanation because it came from him.

Because he’d raised me.

Because when I was a child who’d lost everything, Victor had been the one person who stayed.

But now…

Now I wasn’t sure what to believe.

My phone rang.

I looked at the screen.

UNCLE VICTOR

Damon saw the name.

His expression changed.

“That’s interesting.”

I answered.

“Uncle.”

“Kael.”

Victor’s voice was warm.

Familiar.

The same voice that had told me bedtime stories when I was little.

The same voice that had congratulated me when I graduated.

The same voice that had told me Vivienne was a traitor.

“How was the charity event?” he asked.

“Successful.”

“Good. I heard you raised quite a bit.”

“We did.”

“Excellent.”

A pause.

Then—

“I also heard you’ve been spending time with Richard Sinclair’s daughter. Stay away from her”.

I leaned back in my chair.

Interesting

“Why?”

“Because Richard Sinclair has never been particularly good at keeping his problems to himself. I’d hate to see you dragged into one of them.”

“Like Vivienne?”

There was a brief silence.

“Vivienne?” Victor repeated.

“You heard me.”

My uncle sighed.

“Kael, we’ve been through this.”

“Have we?”

“More times than I care to remember.”

I looked at the photograph on my desk.

“Funny. Because I still have questions.”

“About a woman who’s been dead for eight years?”

“About what happened before she died.”

Victor was quiet for a moment.

Then he spoke, his voice considerably softer.

“Son, I know what she meant to you. I haven’t forgotten.”

I said nothing.

“But you need to remember what she did to this family. We both loved her, Kael. That doesn’t change what happened.”

I stared at the photograph.

“And if what happened wasn’t what you told me?”

Another pause.

“Where is this coming from?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Then I’ll tell you what I’ve always told you. Vivienne made her choices. We had to live with them.”

He sounded tired.

Almost sad.

And that was the problem with Victor.

He could make you feel guilty for questioning him without ever raising his voice.

“Come to dinner tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll talk properly.”

“All right.”

“Goodnight, son.”

“Goodnight, Uncle.”

The call ended.

I remained seated, staring at my phone.

Victor hadn’t denied anything.

But he hadn’t given me an answer either.

And for the first time, I wondered how much of what I believed about Vivienne had come from things I’d actually witnessed.

And how much had come from Victor.

I picked up my phone and opened Serena’s contact.

My thumb hovered over the call button.

Then I stopped.

It was getting late.

She was safe at Nina’s.

And I had no intention of dragging her into another conversation about my uncle tonight.

I put the phone down.

Damon watched me.

“What now?”

I looked at the photograph one last time.

“Tomorrow, I’m having dinner with Victor.”

“And?”

I folded the photograph and slipped it into my jacket.

“And I’m going to find out what happened in October.”