Chapter 3

Julian moved us into the planetarium theater. The seats were empty. The dome above us was dark. He locked the door and told Eli to sit in the front row with my coat around his shoulders.

“Tell me,” Julian said.

I told him about the night Daniel died. Five years ago. Our apartment in Bridgeport. Daniel had found ledgers in Victor Kessler’s office, proof that Victor had been laundering money through charitable donations. Daniel was going to copy them for the FBI.

Victor came to our apartment. He did not know I was there. I had come home early from my shift. I hid in the hall closet. Victor shot Daniel twice. Then he wiped the gun and left.

I heard Julian’s breath. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I tried.” My voice cracked. “I called your office. Arthur Reeves answered. He told me you knew Victor. He told me you had sent me away sixteen years ago because I was a disgrace. He said if I ever contacted you, you would take Eli.”

Julian’s hands were still. Too still. “Arthur told you that?”

“He gave me a letter. Notarized. It said you never wanted to see me again.”

Julian stared at the dark dome. “Arthur Reeves has been my attorney for twenty-five years.”

“Then you know he told the truth.”

“No.” Julian turned to me. “I was told you died in the boating accident. I did not send you away. I did not reject you. I searched for your body for six weeks.”

The floor seemed to tilt. “You thought I drowned.”

“Yes.”

“Then the letter was a lie.”

“Whoever wrote that letter wanted you hidden.”

I thought of Arthur’s calm voice on the phone. His careful sympathy. His promise that my father was dangerous. “He said you were the dangerous one.”

Julian’s jaw worked. “Arthur is here tonight. He is on the gala committee.”

Eli looked up from the front row. “Mom? Are we in trouble?”

I knelt beside him. “No, baby. Not you.”

Julian watched us. For the first time, he looked old. “If Victor knows you are alive, he will not stop. He has spent sixteen years believing his crime was buried.”

“Five years,” I said. “Daniel was five years ago.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “Sixteen years ago, Victor Kessler drove me out of my own company. Arthur handled the sale. I lost everything but my name.”

I stood slowly. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I don’t know yet,” Julian said. “But Arthur is here. And he is going to tell me the truth.”