Chapter 12 - THE YEAR ADRIAN BURIED
Z
In 2014, Nora was nineteen years old and studying architectural history in Boston.
Adrian Cross was twenty-eight.
And according to three sealed federal reports, he had disappeared for ninety-one days.
No business records.
No travel records.
No public appearances.
No electronic trace.
Nothing.
Nora sat inside Adrian's office at two in the morning.
Richard Pierce was missing.
Four federal agents were hospitalized.
One driver was dead.
And someone had written a message telling Nora to ask Adrian about a year he had apparently erased.
So she did.
“What happened in 2014?”
Adrian stood behind his desk.
He looked exhausted.
“Nora.”
“No.”
“I need time to verify—”
She laughed.
“There it is again.”
His eyes closed briefly.
The mistake had landed.
“Don't decide what I can handle.”
“I wasn't.”
“Yes, you were.”
She moved closer.
“You hid my father's record. Now this.”
“2014 has nothing to do with your father.”
“Then tell me.”
Adrian looked toward Marcus.
Marcus quietly left the room.
When the door closed, Adrian walked to the bar.
He poured whiskey.
Then didn't drink it.
“In 2014, I killed a man.”
Nora stared.
She knew what Adrian was.
Or at least she knew the shape of it.
Still, hearing the sentence without decoration changed the air.
“Who?”
“Elias Vane.”
“Why?”
“He murdered my younger brother.”
Nora stopped.
“You had a brother?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.”
“I rarely tell anyone.”
His voice flattened.
“Julian was twenty-one.”
Nora didn't move.
“He wanted nothing to do with my father's business. He studied music. Played piano badly and believed enthusiasm compensated for talent.”
A faint ghost of a smile.
Gone immediately.
“Elias Vane kidnapped him to force me to surrender control of our ports.”
Nora's chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“I refused.”
The words cost him.
She heard it.
“They sent Julian back in pieces.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Adrian.”
“I spent three months hunting Vane.”
“Ninety-one days.”
“Yes.”
“And you killed him.”
“Yes.”
“That's what you're hiding?”
“No.”
Of course not.
Adrian finally drank the whiskey.
“Before Vane died, he gave me a list of names.”
“What names?”
“People inside Richard Pierce's network.”
Nora's pulse quickened.
“One was marked A.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You had eleven years.”
“I had a surname fragment.”
He opened a safe and removed a paper file.
Nora stared.
“Another hidden archive?”
“This one you can complain about later.”
“Planning to.”
He handed her a photocopy.
The note was handwritten.
A—Cross.
Nora felt cold.
“Cross?”
“Yes.”
“Someone in your family?”
“I thought so.”
“Who?”
“My uncle Alexander.”
Nora remembered hearing the name.
Alexander Cross had supposedly died in a boating accident in 2007.
“Dead.”
“According to the official record.”
“That sentence is becoming exhausting.”
Adrian sat.
“I investigated. Nothing.”
“You thought someone faked his death?”
“I think someone used our name.”
Nora studied the page.
“What does 2014 have to do with Richard escaping tonight?”
“Someone knows I received Vane's list.”
“And that someone wants me suspicious of you.”
“Yes.”
“Is it working?”
Adrian met her eyes.
Nora hated the answer.
“A little.”
He nodded.
No anger.
No accusation.
Just pain he refused to show anywhere except around the edges.
Nora moved closer.
“I don't think you're A.”
“You considered it.”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
She touched his hand.
“Adrian.”
He turned.
“I have been lied to by almost every important man in my life.”
The sentence hung between them.
“My father lied to protect me.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Lincoln lied to use me.”
She stepped closer.
“You lied because you thought the truth might hurt me.”
“That doesn't make it right.”
“No.”
Nora touched his face.
“But I'm learning the difference.”
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Adrian covered her hand with his.
“I don't want you learning to excuse me.”
“I don't.”
“Good.”
His phone buzzed.
Marcus.
Adrian answered.
Listened.
Then turned pale.
Nora had never seen that before.
“What?”
He ended the call.
“Richard wasn't rescued by his people.”
“What does that mean?”
“The attack team killed two of Richard's own men.”
Nora frowned.
“So somebody else took him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
Another phone rang.
Not Adrian's.
Nora's.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Every muscle in her body tightened.
Adrian looked at the screen.
“Don't answer.”
Nora almost laughed.
“Full circle.”
The phone rang again.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Breathing.
Then Richard Pierce.
Weak.
Terrified.
“Nora.”
Her spine straightened.
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
A sound behind him.
Metal dragging.
“Listen to me.”
Adrian activated the trace.
Richard continued.
“Lincoln didn't know.”
“Know what?”
“About your father.”
Nora's stomach tightened.
“What about him?”
“Thomas didn't die from cancer.”
She stopped breathing.
Adrian looked at her sharply.
Richard whispered:
“He was murdered.”
Nora's hand began shaking.
“No.”
“The cancer was real.”
Richard coughed.
“But it wasn't what killed him.”
“Stop.”
“He was poisoned in the hospital.”
Nora's eyes filled.
“By who?”
Richard made a broken sound.
“I didn't order it.”
“Who?”
Richard whispered one name.
“Alexander.”
Adrian went completely still.
Nora looked at him.
“Alexander Cross?”
Richard began crying.
“Yes.”
Adrian's face emptied.
“My uncle is dead.”
Richard laughed weakly.
“No.”
A door opened somewhere near him.
Richard panicked.
“He's coming.”
“Richard—”
“He isn't your uncle anymore.”
The line crackled.
“What does that mean?”
Richard whispered his final words.
“He took another name.”
Then the call ended.
Marcus entered almost immediately.
“We traced it.”
“Where?” Adrian demanded.
Marcus stared at Nora.
May you like
“Seattle Mercy Hospital.”
The same hospital where Thomas Whitmore died.
