Chapter 6 - THE RED COAT
The following morning, I fired Dominic Shaw.
Not dramatically.
Not with a gun on the desk.
Not while shouting threats.
Alexandra had warned me that we were dealing with potentially serious criminal conduct and that reckless confrontation could endanger witnesses.
So I arranged for an independent security firm to assume control of the mansion's systems.
I informed Dominic that his responsibilities were being suspended while an external review proceeded, and his access would be revoked according to the applicable legal and employment procedures.
He stood in my office, stunned.
“You're replacing me?”
“Yes.”
“After fifteen years?”
“Yes.”
“Because of a waitress pretending to be a caregiver?”
My face hardened.
“Don't speak about Emma that way.”
He laughed.
“So that's what this is.”
I stood.
“This is about security.”
“I'm security.”
“Not anymore.”
His expression turned cold.
“You're making a mistake, Vincent.”
I looked at him.
“Then let the review establish that.”
For a moment, I thought he might refuse to leave.
Instead, he adjusted his coat.
Then smiled.
“You know, Caroline used to question me too.”
My blood ran cold.
He moved toward the door.
“Always asking about invoices, gates, visitors. She never understood how dangerous your world was.”
I stared.
“Is that a threat?”
He turned.
“Just a memory.”
Then he walked away.
Emma was helping Noah paint the lighthouse when I entered the family room.
His wheelchair stood beside a large table covered with brushes, paint tubes, and newspaper.
He looked up.
“Dad! We fixed the light!”
I examined the painting.
A bright yellow beam stretched across the dark water.
It wasn't quite the same style Caroline had used.
The colors were uneven.
And Noah had added a tiny purple dragon flying over the lighthouse.
I smiled.
“Your mother never mentioned the dragon.”
“He's the lighthouse guardian.”
“Obviously.”
Emma laughed.
Noah looked toward the doorway.
“Is Dominic coming?”
The question was quiet.
I sat beside him.
“No. Dominic isn't working here right now.”
Noah stared.
“Ever?”
“I don't know.”
He looked down.
Then whispered, “Good.”
My throat tightened.
“Did Dominic ever hurt you?”
Noah shook his head.
“Not like hitting.”
I waited.
“He told me I had to be strong because Mom was gone.”
I felt anger rise.
Noah continued.
“He said crying made you upset.”
I closed my eyes.
Emma knelt near his chair.
“Did that make you feel like you couldn't cry?”
He nodded.
“Because Dad already cried enough.”
I stared.
I hadn't known Dominic said that.
I hadn't known Noah had seen me breaking down after the funeral.
I'd hidden my grief from him because I believed a father should look strong.
But children notice more than adults think.
I took Noah's hand.
“Buddy, you don't have to protect me from being sad.”
His eyes filled.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He looked toward Emma.
She smiled.
Then Noah leaned forward and hugged me.
I held him carefully.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
That afternoon, Dr. Claire Bennett met with Noah and me to review his rehabilitation goals.
He wanted to return to school.
Not full-time immediately.
But enough to see his friends.
He wanted to join an adaptive swimming program.
And, most surprisingly, he wanted to visit the Newport sailing center.
I stared at him.
“Boats?”
He nodded.
“Mom liked boats.”
I swallowed.
“They can be difficult.”
Noah frowned.
“Not all boats.”
Claire smiled.
“There are programs using adapted equipment and trained instructors.”
Noah looked at me.
“Can I try?”
Every instinct in my body wanted to say no.
Water meant danger.
Open spaces meant danger.
Anything beyond the mansion gates meant danger.
Then I looked at the boy who had spent fourteen months trapped inside a beautiful house.
I took a breath.
“We can visit and learn what would be safe and appropriate.”
His face lit up.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He grinned.
And I realized that protecting him couldn't mean making his world smaller forever.
That evening, Alexandra called with news from the security review.
Several recordings had been copied to external storage without my authorization.
The review also identified unexplained gaps in archived footage from the weeks before the bombing.
We couldn't yet determine who caused them.
But Dominic had held the highest level of administrative access.
I looked toward the mansion's gates.
“What about the original vehicle inspection?”
Alexandra paused.
“Investigators are reviewing an internal report that places Dominic near the vehicle shortly before the explosion.”
My heart pounded.
“Does that prove he planted the bomb?”
“No. And we must be precise about that.”
I closed my eyes.
She continued.
“But the revised records suggest someone deliberately concealed who inspected the vehicle.”
I thought about Caroline's warning.
Loyalty is not the same thing as honesty.
Then Alexandra said something that made my stomach tighten.
“Vincent, Peter Hollis has agreed to provide a statement.”
“What does he know?”
“He says Caroline was preparing to disclose a network of fraudulent waterfront contracts.”
I waited.
“And he believes the scheme involved money flowing through businesses that Dominic controlled without your knowledge.”
I looked toward my son's bedroom.
May you like
Fourteen months ago, someone destroyed my family.
Now I was beginning to understand that the person responsible may have eaten at my table, guarded my doors, and comforted me at my wife's funeral.
