Chapter 4 - THE MAN AT THE STAIRS
Frankie reached the attic door first. He blocked the stairs and asked the visitor to identify himself. Caleb answered with a laugh that sounded too relaxed for someone entering a private home after midnight.
“I’m here for the lamp,” he said.
Rocco slipped the map into his jacket. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Caleb appeared at the top of the stairs. He was in his mid-thirties, neatly dressed, with rain shining on his coat. His eyes went straight to the lamp.
“Mr. Ventresca. You shouldn’t be involved.”
“Neither should you.”
Caleb smiled. “Your father’s business was built on deals people agreed not to discuss.”
Frankie searched him and found a small knife, two phones, and a photograph of the lamp taken inside Margaret’s house three days earlier.
“You’ve been watching us,” Evelyn said.
“Someone has,” Caleb replied.
Rocco ordered Frankie to call the police. Caleb was escorted downstairs, but before leaving he looked at Evelyn.
“Ask your mother what happened to Peter Vale’s daughter.”
Margaret sank onto the trunk.
Evelyn turned to her. “What happened to her?”
“She disappeared,” Margaret said. “She was looking for the same records.”
“Her name?”
“Clara.”
The next morning, Rocco’s team found an old civil case filed by Clara Vale under another surname. The case had been dismissed after she failed to appear. A later address led to a small town outside Saratoga Springs.
Evelyn insisted on going. Rocco agreed, with Frankie driving and another car following.
A woman in her late fifties opened the door. Her hair was white at the temples, and a thin scar crossed her chin.
“Clara Vale?” Rocco asked.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Who wants to know?”
Evelyn stepped forward. “My name is Evelyn Hartwell. My grandmother was Rose.”
Clara’s expression changed. She let them inside.
She had kept copies of legal filings, but not the original deed. Thomas Hartwell, Evelyn’s father, had visited her years earlier and entrusted her with the document for safekeeping. Three days later he returned and took it away.
“Where did he go?” Evelyn asked.
“I don’t know. He said someone had followed him from the county office.”
“Who?”
Clara brought out a photograph of Thomas beside a younger Harold Sloane, the Ventresca family’s attorney.
“Your father told me there were two forged signatures,” she said. “One on the deed. One on the document certifying it.”
Rocco studied the photograph. Harold Sloane had retired, but his firm still managed several Ventresca properties.
Clara lowered her voice. “Your father believed someone inside the county office helped make the fraud look legal.”
Evelyn felt the story widening around her. “Do you know where the deed is now?”
May you like
Clara shook her head. “No. But Thomas wrote one thing in his notebook. He said the original would be safe with the person who loved you both.”
Evelyn thought of her mother.
