Chapter 14 - The Trade Inside Unit 214
Eleanor locked the storage unit behind her.
She was in her late sixties, elegant and composed, wearing a charcoal suit and pearl earrings. She looked exactly as she had six years earlier when she told me leaving town was the kindest thing I could do for my mother.
Rebecca stood beside me.
Eleanor barely glanced at her.
“This is a private family matter.”
Rebecca lifted her chin.
“My mother kept your secrets for eighteen years. It stopped being private a long time ago.”
Eleanor held up my phone.
“The video shows bruises. Raymond will say Margaret fell. Martin will confirm it. Without context, it proves very little.”
“The audio proves conspiracy.”
“The only copy was on the laptop.”
She smiled.
Luke had not told her about the memory card before it was stolen.
But the card had been inside the laptop.
Unless he had made another copy.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“The original trust and Thomas’s handwritten note.”
“Why the note?”
“Because grief makes people write inaccurate things.”
“My father removed Luke.”
“Your father was angry.”
“He said Luke gave Raymond the files.”
Eleanor’s expression did not change.
“Luke was a frightened young man.”
“You used his debt.”
“Raymond used his debt.”
“And you used me.”
“That was necessary.”
The calmness of her answer made my skin crawl.
“You knew Raymond was hurting Mom.”
“I knew Margaret was difficult.”
Rebecca swore under her breath.
Eleanor’s gaze sharpened.
“Careful.”
“No,” I said. “You be careful.”
I stepped closer to the phone.
“You still need my face to unlock it.”
“I already unlocked it.”
“How?”
“Martin held it in front of you while you were unconscious.”
I remembered no unconsciousness.
Then I remembered the bathroom.
Raymond squeezing my wrist.
The phone falling.
The bitter tea.
I had pretended not to drink, but a splash had touched my lips when the cup tipped.
Enough?
No.
Someone had accessed my face later.
Maybe at the basement stairs when Martin grabbed me.
Eleanor tapped the screen and opened the video.
Mom’s bruises filled the display.
“You will delete the recording yourself,” she said. “Then you will sign a statement declaring that Margaret caused these injuries during a confused episode.”
“And if I refuse?”
“North Crest will admit her under an emergency psychiatric hold. Raymond will authorize medication. By tomorrow, she will not remember what happened in that bathroom.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
Eleanor reached into her purse and produced a small canister of pepper spray.
“Stay back.”
I looked at my phone again.
The recording icon in the corner was gone.
But a green dot glowed near the top.
The camera was active.
Eleanor had opened the video application.
My phone automatically backed up live recordings whenever it connected to a recognized network.
The storage facility used the same national provider as my office.
If the phone had joined the network, the backup might be running now.
I needed Eleanor to keep talking.
“Why did Dad die?”
Her face remained still, but her thumb tightened around the spray.
“Thomas drove too fast in bad weather.”
“Raymond knew his route.”
“Many people did.”
“Luke told him.”
“Luke told me.”
The words hung between us.
Rebecca inhaled sharply.
I kept my eyes on Eleanor.
“And you told Raymond.”
“Yes.”
“Did you damage the truck?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
For the first time, fear touched her face.
She lowered the phone.
The green dot disappeared.
“Give me the trust.”
I held up the folder.
“Tell me who killed my father.”
A pounding sound came from the hallway.
Someone struck the locked door.
“Claire!” Luke shouted. “Don’t give her anything!”
Eleanor spun toward the sound.
I lunged for the phone.
She sprayed.
I turned my face, but the mist caught my cheek and neck. Fire exploded across my skin.
Rebecca tackled Eleanor.
The phone skidded beneath the shelves.
The door shook again.
Then another voice came from outside.
Raymond.
“Eleanor, open the door.”
Rebecca froze.
Eleanor began laughing beneath her.
“You brought them all here,” she said to me. “Exactly where we needed you.”
The lock clicked from the outside.
Luke entered first.
Raymond stood behind him with one hand pressed against Mom’s shoulder.
She wore a hospital gown beneath her wool coat.
Martin stood on her other side.
Luke looked at the trust in my hand.
Then he raised a gun.
Not at Raymond.
At me.
May you like
“Give me the folder, Claire.”
📖 See why Luke aimed the gun at his own sister—and what Margaret whispered before every conspirator entered Unit 214 in CHAPTER 15. 👇
