Chapter 12 - The Ghost Brother
Elena stared at the ink until the water droplets on the paper began to blur the letters. Her face turned an unnatural shade of chalk white.
""That's impossible,"" she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the sound of the roaring rapids as the Zodiac drifted into calmer, wider waters downriver. ""My brother Thomas died eight years ago in an avalanche in Chamonix. We held a memorial. We buried an empty casket.""
""Did you ever see the body, Elena?"" Leo asked, working the twin oars to keep the raft pointed downstream toward Highway 9. The river here widened, the banks lined with tall cattails and dense willow trees that shielded them from the aerial search.
Elena swallowed hard, her hand instinctively clutching Mateo's back. ""No. The French authorities said the glacier was impassable. Father handled everything. He told me Thomas was gone, and three months later he amended the entire family trust to exclude any secondary heirs.""
""He didn't exclude him,"" Leo said grimly, reading the implications in the damp ink. ""He hid him. If your brother Thomas is alive, he's the eldest son. Under Massachusetts probate law, Julian couldn't take control of the estate with just Mateo. He needed Thomas's declaration of death confirmed—or Thomas’s direct consent.""
""Which means Julian isn't working alone,"" Elena said, a horrifying realization dawning in her eyes. ""Thomas is working with him. Thomas sold out the company.""
Mateo sat up between his mother’s knees, the chill of the river making his small lips pale. He reached out with a chubby, uncoordinated hand and touched Elena’s wet cheek. ""Mama, no cry. Papa fix it.""
Elena pulled her son into a fierce, desperate embrace, tears finally breaking through her stoic defense. ""Yes, baby. Papa’s going to fix it. We’re going to be okay.""
Leo scanned the western bank. Ahead, the concrete pylons of the Highway 9 overpass spanned the canyon. Parked on the gravel shoulder beneath the bridge sat a battered, rusted pickup truck with a local plumber's logo on the side door—the standard contact drop Martha’s note had specified.
Leo steered the raft onto the mudbank, leaping out and pulling the Zodiac high into the reeds. He lifted Mateo onto his shoulders and helped Elena scramble up the steep embankment toward the bridge abutment.
The pickup truck was unlocked, the keys dangling from the ignition switch. On the passenger seat lay three dry jackets, a thermal blanket, and a thick envelope of cash.
Leo didn't hesitate. He bundled Mateo into the warm jacket and buckled him into the center seat, pulling Elena in beside him.
He twisted the key. The diesel engine clattered to life with a steady, reliable rhythm.
""We aren't running anymore, are we?"" Elena asked, looking at Leo's profile.
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Leo shifted into gear, pulling the truck up the gravel ramp toward the highway heading east. ""No. We're going to Boston. If your brother thinks he can burn our home and threaten our son for an inheritance, he’s going to find out what kind of man you actually married.""
As they merged onto the interstate, a black helicopter banked hard across the cloud deck two miles to the north, circling like a vulture over the smoking ruins of the mill.
