Chapter 12 - The Unanswered Call
“Julian? Thank God you picked up,” a frantic voice whispered through the phone static. It belonged to Marcus Vance, Julian’s estranged cousin whom everyone believed had vanished during a business trip in Europe five years ago.
Julian’s grip on the receiver tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. He looked over his shoulder at Arthur and Martha, who had paused their conversation, sensing the sudden shift in the room's energy.
“Marcus?” Julian said, his voice dropping into a harsh, disbelieving whisper. “Where are you? You were declared legally dead after the Zurich plane crash four years ago! Beatrice liquidated your entire estate!”
“She didn't liquidate it, Julian—she used it to buy the silence of the federal prosecutor who handled the original arson investigation!” Marcus breathed heavily, the sound of rushing wind and heavy rain audible in the background of the call. “She knew about the will all along. But the Maine fire wasn't just about the company or the house… it was about what was buried underneath the carriage house vault.”
Julian felt a cold shiver run straight down his spine. “What are you talking about? We cleared the vault yesterday. We found the original will and the bearer bonds.”
“You only found what she wanted you to find,” Marcus shouted over a sudden crack of thunder on the line. “There’s a second compartment behind the iron safe. A secondary vault containing the ledger of the Vance Syndicate—the illegal slush fund that financed every corrupt politician in this state for the last thirty years! Beatrice didn't just embezzle from the company; she was black-mailing the governor!”
Before Julian could demand more answers, a loud, violent crash echoed through the phone speaker, followed by the sound of screeching tires and a sickening metal impact.
“Marcus! Marcus, answer me!” Julian yelled into the receiver, but there was only dead air and the hollow hiss of a disconnected line.
Slowly, Julian lowered the phone to his side, his face completely drained of color.
Martha stood up from the bench, walking over to her grandson with a look of deep, terrified intuition on her face. “Julian… what did Marcus say?”
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“He said we only found half the truth,” Julian whispered, staring blankly at the newly polished marble floor of the lobby. “And right now, someone is hunting down the rest of it before we can reach the second vault.”
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