“Yes.”
“Your company.”
“My father's originally.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“And the orchard?”
“Access route.”
“To the underground facility?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor whispered:
“So Thomas Bell discovered it.”
Harold nodded.
“Thomas helped build the original tunnel.”
“Did he participate?”
“At first.”
Margaret’s husband had been one of the original investors.
That explained why his notebook contained so much.
Marcus asked:
“What changed?”
“Thomas wanted out.”
“Why?”
“Because the information stopped being passive.”
Harold looked toward the floor.
“They started using it.”
“To pressure people.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Harold hesitated.
“Three principal partners.”
“Names.”
“My father.”
“Thomas Bell.”
“And?”
Harold looked toward Daniel.
Daniel frowned.
“Why are you looking at me?”
Harold said:
“Charles Mercer.”
Daniel stiffened.
“My father?”
Eleanor stared.
Daniel shook his head.
“My father died when I was ten.”
Harold’s face changed.
“No.”
Daniel stared.
“What?”
“Charles Mercer disappeared when you were ten.”
“My mother told me he died.”
“She was told to.”
Daniel stood so quickly his chair hit the wall.
“You’re lying.”
Harold opened a drawer.
He removed an old photograph.
Four people stood beneath the original Bellwood development sign.
Harold’s father.
Thomas Bell.
Charles Mercer.
And a young woman Eleanor recognized from a photograph in Daniel’s office.
Daniel’s mother.
Daniel stared.
“He was part of this?”
Harold nodded.
“At first.”
“What happened?”
“Same thing that happened to Thomas.”
“He wanted out.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“He stole files.”
“Where did he go?”
Harold shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“You hired me here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I didn't.”
“Then who did?”
Harold looked terrified.
“That’s the question you should be asking.”
Chapter Six: The Message
That night, Eleanor received a text from an unknown number.
DO NOT GO TO THE CLUBHOUSE TOMORROW.
She called Marcus.
He came to her house within thirty minutes.
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent this knows you're involved.”
Eleanor looked around her kitchen.
Suddenly every dark window felt different.
Marcus pulled back one curtain.
A black SUV moved slowly along the lane.
He watched it pass.
“Same vehicle?”
Eleanor whispered.
“What vehicle?”
“I saw it outside Margaret's yesterday.”
Her face changed.
“Police?”
Marcus showed her his phone.
A message from a federal investigator.
Eleanor stared.
“You contacted federal authorities?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I wasn't sure the evidence justified involving you further.”
She almost laughed.
“You were trying to protect me?”
“Yes.”