CHAPTER 6: The Fire at Benson & Hart
CHAPTER 6: The Fire at Benson & Hart
Forty-five minutes later, a convoy of vehicles sped through the dark streets of Westchester.
Nathan sat in the back seat of a black SUV.
Across from him sat Harold Benson.
Clara sat beside Ruby, who had fallen asleep with her head resting against her mother's shoulder.
Nobody spoke.
The atmosphere was suffocating.
Finally Nathan broke the silence.
"Tell me everything."
Harold stared out the window.
Then nodded.
"Forty years ago, your sister Eleanor was hidden after a kidnapping attempt."
Nathan listened carefully.
"Your parents created a private trust in her name."
"A trust worth how much?"
Harold gave a grim smile.
"At today's valuation?"
He paused.
"Approximately four billion dollars."
Nathan nearly stopped breathing.
Four billion.
Not part of the Whitmore empire.
Separate from it.
Protected.
Growing quietly for decades.
"Who inherited it?"
Harold shook his head.
"That's what the file proves."
Nathan looked toward sleeping Ruby.
A thought he couldn't shake refused to leave his mind.
The SUV suddenly slowed.
Police lights flashed ahead.
Nathan frowned.
"What happened?"
Nobody answered.
Then he saw it.
Smoke.
Massive clouds of black smoke.
Rising into the night sky.
Harold's face drained of color.
"No..."
The convoy stopped.
Everyone exited.
Across the street stood the historic Benson & Hart building.
Or what remained of it.
Flames consumed the upper floors.
Firefighters battled the blaze.
Glass shattered.
Sirens screamed.
Nathan stared in disbelief.
Harold whispered:
"My office."
A firefighter approached.
"Are you Mr. Benson?"
"Yes."
The firefighter hesitated.
"I'm sorry."
Harold looked ready to collapse.
Nathan grabbed his shoulder.
"The safe."
"What?"
"The file."
Harold swallowed.
"The safe was in the archive room."
The firefighter's expression told them everything.
The archive room was gone.
Destroyed.
Nathan turned slowly.
Across the flashing lights, he saw Sloane standing beside another vehicle.
Police had brought her for questioning.
Yet she wasn't watching the fire.
She was watching him.
And for the first time Nathan noticed something strange.
She didn't look relieved.
She looked terrified.
As though the fire had ruined a plan rather than completed one.
Then a detective emerged from the crowd carrying a soot-covered metal box.
"Mr. Benson!"
Harold looked up.
The detective held the box high.
"The safe survived."
The world seemed to stop.
Nathan's heart hammered.
Sloane's eyes widened in horror.
The detective continued.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"We found a body."
The crowd froze.
"A body?" Nathan asked.
The detective nodded grimly.
"A man."
Silence.
Then came the sentence nobody expected.
"He was carrying forged identification under the name Victor Mercer."
Sloane staggered backward.
Nathan stared.
Victor Mercer had been dead for six years.
Or so everyone believed.
The detective opened a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a burned photograph.
One half remained intact.
Nathan took it.
His blood ran cold.
The photograph showed three people.
Margaret Whitmore.
A young Eleanor.
And a man whose face had been partially burned away.
On the back, written in Margaret's handwriting, were five chilling words:
HE NEVER DIED. TRUST NO ONE.
The birthday gift had already exposed one family secret.
Now it had uncovered something far bigger.
A conspiracy spanning decades.
A stolen fortune.
A hidden heir.
And a man who was supposed to be dead.
Far away, in the darkness beyond the flashing emergency lights, someone watched the scene from inside a parked car.
Someone who knew exactly where the missing documents were.
Someone who had spent forty years hiding.
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And someone who had just learned that little Ruby Bennett was still alive.
TO BE CONTINUED...
