Chapter 3 - The Name Written in Blood
The dead man's name was Oliver Grant.
Twenty-nine years old.
A junior executive at Caldwell Holdings.
According to the police, he had been discovered inside an abandoned parking garage at dawn.
Beside him lay a folded piece of paper.
Three words were written across it.
KATE BENNETT KNOWS.
When Damon told her, Kate felt the hospital room tilt.
"I don't know anything," she whispered.
"That's what we're trying to understand."
"Do the police think I killed him?"
"No."
"But they might."
Damon didn't answer immediately.
That frightened her more than anything.
An hour later, Detective Sarah Whitmore arrived.
She was a sharp-eyed woman in her early forties who seemed unimpressed by the armed security outside Kate's room.
"I need to ask you some questions," Whitmore said.
Kate nodded.
The detective placed Oliver's photograph on the table.
"Did you know this man?"
Kate studied his face.
She remembered him.
He had stood near the library door.
Unlike Preston, he hadn't laughed.
He had looked uncomfortable.
And when Kate stumbled into the hallway, Oliver had whispered something.
Something she hadn't understood.
Her breath caught.
"He said something to me."
Whitmore leaned forward.
"What did he say?"
Kate closed her eyes.
She could still hear his voice.
Don't let them find the blue book.
Kate opened her eyes.
"He told me not to let them find a blue book."
Damon went completely still.
Whitmore noticed.
"Mr. Blackwell?"
Damon ignored her.
"Kate, are you certain?"
"Yes."
"What kind of book?"
"I don't know."
Whitmore wrote something in her notebook.
"Why didn't you mention this earlier?"
"Because I had a broken arm and I was terrified."
The detective's expression softened.
"Fair enough."
After Whitmore left, Damon called Matteo.
"Search the library. Every shelf. Every cabinet."
Twenty minutes later, Matteo called back.
"We found something."
Damon put the phone on speaker.
"A hollow space behind the east bookshelf. Someone recently removed an object."
"How do you know?"
"Fresh scratches on the wood. Dust disturbed around the frame."
Damon looked at Kate.
"Someone hid something in my house."
Kate felt sick.
"Preston?"
"Possibly."
That evening, her mother called.
Kate finally answered.
"Mom?"
"Sweetheart, why is there a security guard outside my hospital room?"
Kate froze.
"What?"
"A man in a dark suit. He says Mr. Blackwell sent him."
Kate looked at Damon.
He nodded.
"He's there to protect her."
Kate repeated the explanation.
But her mother didn't sound reassured.
Instead, Evelyn whispered something Kate hadn't heard her say in years.
"Did they find you?"
Kate sat upright.
"Who?"
Her mother's breathing became uneven.
"Kate, listen carefully. Whatever happens, don't trust anyone named Caldwell."
Kate stared at the phone.
"Mom, what are you talking about?"
Evelyn began crying.
"I thought I'd buried it. I thought after all these years they would leave us alone."
"Buried what?"
Her mother lowered her voice.
"The truth about your father."
Kate stopped breathing.
Her father had died when she was seven.
At least, that was what she'd always believed.
"Mom?"
May you like
But the call disconnected.
And when Kate tried calling back, nobody answered.
