Chapter 3 - Audrey’s KeyJason barely slept.
Ella slept in his room.
Not because he suggested it.
Because she carried her pillow in silently at 1:13 a.m. and stood beside his bed.
Jason lifted the blanket.
She climbed in.
Neither mentioned the washing machine.
At seven, Tessa returned.
Marcus Bell’s letter was spread across the breakfast table.
It contained no wild accusations.
That made it more troubling.
Marcus wrote that Audrey had asked him to review unusual household expenses during the final year of her life.
At the time, Audrey was undergoing treatment for lymphoma.
Jason had spent weeks traveling between home, hospitals, and the company’s offices.
Mrs. Harrington had handled almost everything at the mansion.
Bills.
Staff.
Contractors.
School arrangements.
Audrey had trusted her.
Until invoices began appearing twice.
According to Marcus, three household vendors billed the family more than $600,000 over four years.
One handled landscaping.
One handled interior maintenance.
One supposedly provided specialty security services.
Audrey believed at least some invoices were fake.
Marcus started tracing them.
Then Audrey became sicker.
Marcus wrote:
Audrey wanted to tell you herself. She was afraid you were already carrying too much. That was a mistake, and I told her so.
Jason looked away.
Tessa waited.
He whispered, “Everyone kept deciding what I could handle.”
“Apparently.”
Jason continued reading.
After Audrey died, Marcus attempted to resume the review.
Mrs. Harrington accused him of irregularities first.
Within weeks, Jason terminated him.
He remembered the meeting.
Mrs. Harrington had placed a folder on his desk.
“She found overbilling,” Jason said quietly.
“Who did?”
“Harrington.”
Tessa’s expression darkened.
“What evidence?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That matters.”
Jason rubbed his face.
“I was barely functioning.”
That was true.
Audrey had died four months earlier.
Ella had been four.
Jason remembered only fragments of that year.
Work.
Funeral flowers.
Ella crying for her mother.
Mrs. Harrington standing beside him saying, I’ll handle everything.
The final paragraph of Marcus’s letter referred to the brass key.
Audrey moved the original records somewhere Evelyn did not know about. She said the blue key opened it. I never learned where.
Jason placed the key on the table.
Ella entered wearing pajamas.
She saw it.
“That’s why she got mad.”
Jason crouched.
“Did Mrs. Harrington ask where you found the envelope?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her.”
Jason’s heart sank.
“Did she see the envelope?”
Ella shook her head.
“I hid it behind my back.”
“Then what happened?”
“She said give her the key.”
“Did you?”
Ella nodded.
“But you had it when I found you.”
“I took it back.”
“How?”
“It fell on the floor when she opened the washing machine.”
Jason tried not to react to the words.
“She put you inside after you refused to give it back?”
Ella looked down.
“She said I needed to tell her where Mommy’s things were.”
Jason became very still.
“She said Mommy’s things?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly?”
Ella thought.
“She said, ‘Where did Audrey hide the rest?’”
Tessa looked sharply at Jason.
Mrs. Harrington had known Audrey hid evidence.
The laundry-room incident was no longer just a punishment that went too far.
Mrs. Harrington had been trying to recover something.
Jason called Detective Leah Moreno, the officer assigned to follow up.
He repeated Ella’s statement.
Moreno asked him not to search Mrs. Harrington’s belongings himself.
“Preserve everything.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Jason glanced toward the staircase.
He wanted to tear apart every drawer she had ever touched.
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
After the call, Tessa examined the key.
“Where would Audrey hide financial records?”
“Her office.”
“Too obvious.”
“A safe-deposit box?”
“Maybe.”
Jason turned the key over.
Blue tape.
A.W.
Then he remembered something.
Audrey loved old furniture.
Before her illness, she had restored an antique writing desk from her grandmother.
After she died, Mrs. Harrington said the desk had been damaged by moisture and moved into storage.
Jason had never questioned it.
“Garage.”
He and Tessa crossed the mansion.
At the rear of the four-car garage stood a storage room.
The desk was there beneath a sheet.
Jason pulled it away.
Dust rose.
He tried the key in the main drawer.
Wrong.
Second drawer.
Wrong.
Then Tessa crouched.
“There.”
Under the desk was a tiny brass lock.
Jason inserted the key.
Click.
A hidden compartment dropped open.
Inside sat a black USB drive.
A ledger.
And an envelope in Audrey’s handwriting.
Jason’s hands began to shake.
To Jason.
May you like
Below that:
Please don’t let grief make you trust the wrong person.
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