Chapter 6 - Sarah's Locked Desk
Sarah's old writing desk had remained untouched for four years.
It stood in a smaller upstairs sitting room overlooking the eastern garden.
After Sarah died, Ethan had been unable to remove it.
Claudia had suggested selling it twice.
He had refused.
Now Henry stood beside the desk with Detective Brooks.
The bottom drawer showed faint scratches around the lock.
Fresh scratches.
Ethan noticed them immediately.
“She opened this.”
Brooks photographed the damage.
“What was kept here?”
“Sarah's personal papers.”
“What kind?”
“Letters. Insurance documents. Notes about Oliver.”
Henry added, “And copies of some trust correspondence.”
Ethan looked at him.
“You knew?”
“Sarah trusted paper more than computers.”
That sounded exactly like her.
Brooks asked whether anything appeared missing.
Ethan unlocked the drawer using a key from an old jewelry box.
Inside were neatly arranged folders.
Medical records.
Oliver's preschool drawings.
Letters.
Tax documents.
One empty space.
Ethan frowned.
“There was a blue binder.”
Henry looked at him.
“What binder?”
“Sarah kept business correspondence in it.”
“Why?”
“She didn't trust Victor.”
Henry went still.
Brooks noticed.
“Victor Hale?”
“Yes.”
Ethan sat down.
“Before Sarah got sick, Victor's firm consulted for Langford on two acquisitions. Sarah handled parts of the due diligence.”
Henry stared.
“You never told me she suspected him.”
“I thought it was personal.”
“What did she say?”
“That his numbers were too clean.”
Henry's expression hardened.
Sarah had been a corporate attorney before Oliver was born.
She had possessed the irritating habit of questioning everyone.
Including Henry.
Especially Henry.
“What happened?”
“The acquisitions were canceled after Sarah's diagnosis.”
“And the binder?”
“She told me she had notes.”
Brooks looked toward the empty space.
“Claudia may have taken them.”
Ethan nodded slowly.
Then something else occurred to him.
“Wait.”
He crossed the room.
On the bookshelf stood Sarah's old copy of The Secret Garden.
He opened it.
Nothing.
Then another book.
Nothing.
Henry watched.
“What are you doing?”
“She used to hide important things in books.”
Brooks almost smiled.
“That's not ideal evidence storage.”
“She wasn't storing evidence. She was hiding things from me when planning birthday surprises.”
The fourth book contained an envelope.
Ethan's name was written across it.
His hands trembled.
The envelope had already been opened.
Henry saw the torn edge.
“Did you read that before?”
“No.”
Inside was a handwritten letter.
Ethan unfolded it.
My love,
If you ever read this, it probably means I finally became as dramatic as you accuse me of being.
Ethan's eyes blurred.
He kept reading.
Sarah described concerns about Victor Hale.
Not proof.
Concerns.
Payments routed through consulting vendors.
Property valuations that seemed deliberately suppressed.
A proposed sale of a parcel outside Hartford that would have benefited one of Victor's shell companies.
Then came a paragraph about Oliver.
If something happens to me, protect his interest even when it becomes inconvenient. Money does strange things to families. I don't want Oliver raised to worship it, but I also don't want someone else deciding that what I left him belongs to them.
Ethan stopped.
Henry read over his shoulder.
The final paragraph had been underlined in blue ink.
Not Sarah's handwriting.
If Henry ever believes you are being pressured into a decision involving Oliver's shares, I have asked him to prioritize Oliver over the company, and even over you.
Ethan stared at the blue line.
Brooks leaned closer.
“Do you recognize the ink?”
“No.”
Henry did.
“Claudia uses blue fountain pens.”
Ethan looked at him.
“That doesn't prove anything.”
“No.”
Brooks carefully bagged the letter.
“But it tells us someone read it.”
They searched the remaining papers.
No blue binder.
Then Nora knocked.
“Mr. Langford?”
Henry turned.
“I found something downstairs.”
Nora held an old tablet.
“Where?”
“In the linen closet.”
Ethan frowned.
“That was Sarah's.”
“I know.”
The device hadn't been charged in years.
Police took custody and connected it to power.
Twenty minutes later, it booted.
There was no password.
Sarah had saved emails locally.
One folder contained Victor's name.
Brooks scrolled through dozens of messages.
Then stopped.
An email dated six months before Sarah's death.
Sarah had written:
Victor, I will not approve this valuation. The beneficial ownership of Westbridge Holdings is concealed, and until you disclose it, I am advising Henry to withdraw.
Victor replied:
You are making a serious mistake.
Sarah answered:
Then explain why Northstar Advisory appears in the transaction chain.
Everyone in the room froze.
Ethan whispered, “Northstar.”
Claudia's company.
Brooks checked the date.
Four years before Claudia claimed she had created Northstar.
Henry stared at the screen.
“If Northstar existed back then…”
Ethan finished the thought.
“Claudia didn't create it.”
May you like
Brooks looked at them both.
“Then we need to find out who did.”
