Chapter 10 - The Sin Before the Crime
Arthur finally stopped defending himself.
The Harbor 17 transfer had been eight million dollars.
The company was weeks from violating lending covenants that could have forced the sale of two shipyards.
Malcolm proposed moving pension-backed property into a subsidiary as collateral.
Arthur knew the employees had not approved it.
He signed anyway.
“For seventy-two hours,” Arthur said. “That was the plan.”
Lena stared at him.
“Did the employees know?”
“No.”
“Then you stole their security.”
“Yes.”
Nathan leaned against the library shelves.
For years he had apparently wanted to hear Arthur say that word.
Arthur continued.
“Malcolm used my authorization as precedent. He moved additional assets. Forged extensions. Opened shell accounts.”
“But your signature started it,” Lena said.
“Yes.”
Peter discovered both.
That explained Miriam’s warning.
Peter had not intended to testify only against Malcolm.
He intended to expose Arthur too.
“So the night he died,” Lena said, “you were going to meet a man who could send you to prison.”
Arthur nodded.
“And you never thought that mattered?”
“I thought the difference mattered.”
“What difference?”
“Malcolm killed him. I did not.”
“That difference matters,” Lena said. “It just doesn’t make you innocent.”
Arthur looked almost relieved.
“No.”
The tension that had surrounded his resurrection changed.
Arthur was no longer a wronged patriarch returning to expose a villain.
He was a man who had committed wrongdoing, tried to correct it too late, and then used a murder attempt to escape consequences.
Evelyn sat beside him.
“Why tell her now?”
Arthur looked at Lena.
“Because Miriam is right. If we want the truth, I don’t get to choose which parts survive.”
That afternoon, Miriam called back.
She agreed to meet them in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, halfway between Greyhaven and where she was temporarily staying with relatives.
She insisted Arthur not come.
Lena went with Nathan.
Miriam chose a crowded café.
She looked older than the online photograph but immediately recognizable.
The moment she saw Nathan, she stiffened.
“You.”
Nathan sat.
“I deserve that.”
Miriam looked at Lena.
“You look like Rachel.”
The comparison hurt pleasantly.
“You knew my mother?”
“Briefly.”
“Did she find you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
Lena waited.
Miriam lowered her coffee.
“Your mother was relentless.”
Nathan almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“She wanted proof before telling you anything.”
“Did you give her proof?”
“No. I gave her the truth I knew.”
Miriam explained that Peter had copied the financial records onto a flash drive.
She had rented Safe Deposit Box 38 under her own name.
Peter had the only physical key.
“Why?”
“Because if I carried it, Malcolm could search me. Nobody knew Peter and I were working together.”
“What happened to the key?”
“I assumed it died with him.”
Lena placed the St. Brigid’s token on the table.
Miriam stared.
“Where did you get that?”
“Peter’s hiding place.”
Miriam closed her eyes.
“He really did it.”
She explained the transferred box should still exist at Pine Harbor Bank, frozen because she had never claimed it after the acquisition.
“I can open it.”
Lena leaned forward.
“Will you?”
Miriam did not answer immediately.
Then she looked at Nathan.
“Why should I trust this family?”
Nathan said, “You shouldn’t.”
Miriam seemed surprised.
“But Peter deserves the truth. So does Lena. And I’m done asking people to trust us instead of evidence.”
Something shifted.
Miriam nodded.
They went to the bank that afternoon.
Box 38 contained no flash drive.
Only a handwritten note.
Arthur—
If you found this, either I was wrong about you or you finally got brave enough to admit I was right.
The drive is where the tide can’t reach it.
P.
Miriam frowned.
“That’s all?”
Lena turned the note over.
Numbers were written on the back.
43.6812
70.1849
Coordinates.
Nathan entered them into his phone.
A location appeared.
Greyhaven House.
Specifically the cliffs below it.
Lena’s pulse accelerated.
“Where the tide can’t reach it.”
Nathan looked at her.
“The old storm cellar.”
Greyhaven had a stone emergency cellar built into the cliff during the Second World War.
It had been sealed since Lena was a child.
They returned at dusk.
The iron door stood open.
Fresh footprints marked the dirt.
Someone had beaten them there.
Inside, empty shelves lined the walls.
Nathan swept his flashlight across the back.
A metal container sat on the floor.
Open.
Empty.
Beside it lay a green work jacket.
Samuel Pike’s.
Lena approached slowly.
On the wall, written in chalk, were six words.
I MOVED IT. THEY WERE WATCHING.
Then a sound came from behind the shelves.
A groan.
Nathan pulled them aside.
Samuel Pike lay on the ground.
Alive.
Barely.
He opened his eyes.
“Lena?”
She knelt beside him.
“Who did this?”
Sam caught her wrist.
His voice was almost gone.
May you like
“Your grandmother.”
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