Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN EVERYONE THOUGHT HAD BETRAYED HIM
Z
By noon, three federal agents were sitting in Victor Malenkov’s conference room.
By one, Aliyah Brooks had become a suspect in the theft of eight million dollars.
By two, every news station in Boston had her photograph.
NURSING STUDENT FIANCÉE LINKED TO MALENKOV FOUNDATION SCANDAL.
Aliyah stared at the headline on her phone.
“I hate that picture.”
Victor looked up.
“What?”
“They used my hospital badge photo.”
“You are being accused of stealing eight million dollars.”
“I can have multiple concerns.”
Victor almost smiled.
Almost.
The federal agents had advised Aliyah not to leave the city.
Victor’s attorney advised her to say nothing.
Nikolai advised everyone to let him “handle” Caleb Vance.
Nobody asked what that meant.
Aliyah sat at Victor’s kitchen island while he paced.
“You’re doing it again.”
Victor stopped.
“What?”
“Trying to solve everything by walking aggressively near expensive furniture.”
“I am thinking.”
“You’ve worn a path into the floor.”
Victor leaned against the counter.
“I know you didn’t take the money.”
Aliyah met his eyes.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you hesitate yesterday?”
He did not answer immediately.
That honesty was one of the things she loved about him.
It was also occasionally infuriating.
“Because Elena’s warning arrived twelve hours before money disappeared into your name.”
“My name. Not my account.”
“I know.”
“Because my mother was mentioned?”
“Yes.”
“And because everyone you loved before me apparently had secrets.”
Victor flinched.
Aliyah regretted the sentence immediately.
“Victor—”
“No. You are right.”
“I wasn’t trying to be cruel.”
“You weren’t.”
He walked to the window.
“Anton betrayed me. Gabriel betrayed me. Elena kept her survival secret. Even when they believed they had reasons, I learned too late.”
Aliyah joined him.
“So part of you expects it now.”
Victor stared at Boston below.
“Yes.”
She nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
He looked at her.
“That is all?”
“No.”
She touched his arm.
“But trust isn’t pretending fear doesn’t exist.”
Victor’s eyes softened.
“It’s choosing what you do with it.”
For a moment, they stood quietly.
Then Nikolai entered carrying a laptop.
“I found the account.”
Aliyah immediately turned.
“It was opened using Miss Brooks’s identification six months ago.”
“Six months?”
Victor frowned.
“That was before Gabriel’s arrest.”
“Yes.”
Nikolai placed the computer down.
Aliyah’s driver’s license.
Social Security number.
Address.
All correct.
Then one thing caught her attention.
The security question.
Mother’s maiden name.
She stared.
“Holloway.”
Victor looked at her.
“Your mother’s maiden name?”
“No.”
Aliyah leaned closer.
“My grandmother’s maiden name was Holloway.”
“How would Caleb know that?”
Aliyah’s pulse accelerated.
“My mother’s box.”
Victor understood.
Someone had searched her apartment months earlier.
Not simply to threaten her.
They had copied information.
“Caleb planned this before Gabriel fell.”
Nikolai nodded.
“Possibly.”
Victor’s phone rang again.
This time, unknown number.
He answered.
“Victor.”
A calm male voice filled the speaker.
“I expected you to be angrier.”
Caleb.
Victor’s entire body became still.
“You used Aliyah’s identity.”
“I borrowed it.”
“I will find you.”
“Yes. That has always been one of your less imaginative qualities.”
Aliyah stepped closer.
Caleb continued.
“Elena understood the problem with you long before you did.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Do not say her name.”
“Still sensitive.”
“What do you want?”
“A key.”
Aliyah frowned.
“What key?” Victor asked.
“The one Denise Brooks hid.”
Aliyah looked at Victor.
Caleb laughed softly through the phone.
“She never told you?”
“My mother left no key.”
“Oh, she did.”
Silence.
“Your mother was clever, Miss Brooks.”
Aliyah’s skin chilled.
“You know I’m here.”
“I know more about you than Victor would like.”
Victor’s voice turned dangerous.
“If you have watched her—”
“Relax. If I wanted Aliyah dead, she would be.”
Nikolai quietly began tracing the call.
Caleb continued.
“Denise took something from Elena’s belongings at Saint Agnes. Gabriel spent years searching for it.”
“The blue notebook?” Aliyah asked.
“No. Gabriel got the notebook eventually.”
Victor frowned.
“What did Denise take?”
“A key from Elena’s necklace.”
Aliyah froze.
The silver necklace.
Inside her mother’s repaired wooden box.
She turned toward Victor.
He saw the answer on her face.
Caleb heard the silence.
“There it is.”
The call ended.
Aliyah ran to the bedroom.
Victor followed.
She opened the wooden box.
The silver necklace lay inside.
Simple chain.
Small oval pendant.
Aliyah had seen it a thousand times as a child.
Her mother wore it almost every day.
She pressed along the edge.
Nothing.
Victor took it carefully.
“This belonged to Elena?”
“I thought it was my mother’s.”
He examined the pendant.
Then pressed the center.
It opened.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
Aliyah stared.
“My mother had this for twelve years.”
Victor’s expression changed.
He recognized it.
“That opens a private storage box.”
“Where?”
“Boston Harbor Bank.”
Twenty minutes later, they were in the SUV.
The bank manager knew Victor personally.
That worried Aliyah.
They were escorted underground to a vault containing old private boxes no longer included in the bank’s public records.
The brass key opened box 317.
Inside was a single flash drive.
And another letter.
Victor opened it.
The handwriting was Elena’s.
Vitya,
If you found this, then Denise kept her promise.
This drive contains the names Gabriel refused to write in the blue ledger.
People who financed everything.
Judges.
Businessmen.
Politicians.
And one man more dangerous than Gabriel because nobody sees him as criminal.
Caleb Vance.
He built the system.
Do not underestimate him.
Victor inserted the flash drive into an offline laptop provided by the bank.
A password prompt appeared.
One hint.
THE FIRST PLACE WE DANCED.
Victor whispered, “Prague.”
The drive opened.
Aliyah leaned closer.
Folders filled the screen.
Hundreds.
Then one file caught her eye.
BROOKS, DENISE.
Aliyah clicked.
Victor reached for her hand.
Inside were photographs.
Reports.
Surveillance.
Then an audio recording dated one week before her mother’s death.
Aliyah pressed play.
Caleb Vance’s voice filled the vault.
“She won’t stop.”
Thomas Reed answered.
“Then I’ll handle her.”
“No mistakes this time.”
Aliyah went cold.
Then Reed asked:
“And the daughter?”
Caleb replied.
“She’s seventeen. Leave her alone unless Denise gives her the key.”
Aliyah stopped the recording.
Her hands shook.
Victor closed the laptop.
“Enough.”
“No.”
“You heard enough.”
“I said no.”
She reopened it.
Another file sat beneath the audio.
ALIYAH BROOKS — CONTINGENCY.
She clicked.
A photograph loaded.
Aliyah at seventeen.
Walking into high school.
Another.
Aliyah at college.
Another.
Aliyah entering the Red Lion.
Years of photographs.
Caleb had been watching her.
Victor’s face turned white with fury.
At the bottom of the folder was one final document.
Dated three months earlier.
SUBJECT HAS BEGUN WORKING AT LOCATION FREQUENTED BY V. MALENKOV.
Probability of contact: increasing.
Aliyah stared.
“No.”
Victor looked at her.
“What?”
“The chair.”
Her heart hammered.
“That man didn’t trip me randomly.”
Victor’s expression darkened.
“No.”
Aliyah understood everything at once.
Her job.
The Red Lion.
Victor.
Caleb had arranged their meeting.
May you like
Their accident had not been an accident.
And somewhere in Boston, the man who had spent years watching Aliyah was waiting to see what happened next.
