Nick Sterling was being questioned in a federal office downtown when Agent Vance arranged for me to speak with him.
"Speak," Vance emphasized in the elevator.
"Not interrogate."
"I know the difference."
"Do you?"
"Usually."
Clara had wanted to come.
Vance refused.
Not because she was suspected of anything, he said, but because her name appeared in evidence attached to Nick and because investigators needed to preserve independent statements.
She had accepted that about as well as expected.
Meaning not at all.
When I left the house, she stood on the porch with her arms folded.
"Bring back answers."
"I'll do my best."
"No."
Her eyes held mine.
"Bring back answers."
Now, in the federal building, I understood exactly what she meant.
Nick sat behind a metal table in an interview room that seemed designed to make everybody look guilty.
His tie was gone.
So was the expensive watch he normally wore.
He looked ten years older than he had that morning.
When I entered, he stared.
"No."
Vance closed the door behind me.
Nick looked at him.
"I told you I don't want him here."
"Then don't talk."
"Great."
I sat across from him.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Eleven years.
Thousands of meetings.
Business trips.
Late nights.
Arguments.
Celebrations.
I had been at Nick's wedding reception.
He had attended my father's retirement barbecue.
Now a federal camera recorded us from the corner.
I placed a printed copy of the transaction record on the table.
Nick didn't look at it.
"You know what Lantern Seven is."
His jaw tightened.
"Who told you?"
"Eleanor."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"Of course."
"She says it was a protection fund."
Nick laughed.
It sounded exhausted.
"Eleanor says many things."
"Was she lying?"
He looked at me.
"No."
"Then explain."
"I can't."
"You can."
"I mean legally."
Vance spoke from behind me.
"Mr. Sterling, you're free to answer questions concerning the safety of the Miller family. Your counsel has already been informed."
Nick glared at him.
"So this is voluntary."
"Entirely."
"Good."
He pushed his chair back.
I put the Aspen note on the table.
He stopped.
His eyes fell to the paper.
Something changed.
"You've seen that before."
He looked away.
"Nick."
"Where did you get it?"
"Clara."
"She kept it?"
"For seven years."
He sank back into the chair.
"Jesus."
"Start talking."
Nick rubbed both hands over his face.
"When did you first meet Clara?"
"What?"
"Answer me."
"You know when."
"College."
"Before you knew me."
"Yes."
I felt my pulse increase.
"Why does that matter?"
"It doesn't."
"Then why ask?"
He sighed.
"Because this started before Vanguard."
I stared.
Nick looked toward Vance.
"Can I get water?"
Vance slid a bottle across the table.
Nick drank half.
Then he looked at me.
"My father knew your grandfather."
"Arthur?"
"No. My father was Philip Sterling."
"Your father was related to Eleanor."
"Second cousin."
That meant Nick's connection to the family was more distant than I had assumed.
"Philip worked for Sterling Maritime's legal division."
"For Arthur?"
"For whoever signed his checks."
"And he knew my grandfather left."
"Yes."
"Did you?"
"Not until after I hired you."
My anger sharpened.
"That's convenient."
"I hired you because you were good."
"How did you find out?"
"Eleanor."
"When?"
"2018."
One year before Aspen.
I leaned forward.
"What happened in 2018?"
"She called me into a hotel conference room in Chicago."
"Why?"
"She said my company employed someone she cared about."
"You."
"She never said cared."
That sounded like Eleanor.
"She told me Arthur Miller had once been Arthur Mercer-Sterling."
"And asked you to watch me."
Nick nodded.
I stood.
Vance said my name.
I ignored him.
"All those years."
"Sit down."
"All those reviews. Promotions. Client assignments."
"I didn't control your career because of Eleanor."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because if I had been manipulating your career for the family, you'd have been vice president five years ago."
I stopped.
Nick spread his hands.
"You were repeatedly passed over because you challenged executives in front of clients."
"Not always."
"Enough."
Despite myself, I almost believed him.
"So what did Eleanor want?"
"Updates."
"About what?"
"Whether anyone contacted you about the family."
"Arthur?"
"Especially Arthur."
"Why me?"
"Because Eleanor believed he would eventually realize your grandfather had descendants."
"Did Arthur not know?"
"Apparently not."
I sat again.
"Until when?"
"2019."
Aspen.
Nick nodded toward the note.
"That was the year."
My mouth went dry.
"Helen Ward."
He froze.
"You know that name."
"It's not a real name."
"We figured."
"She worked for a private intelligence contractor Arthur used."
"Worked?"
"She's dead."
That landed heavily.
"When?"
"2022."
"How?"
"Car accident in Nevada."
"Accident?"
Nick looked at Vance.
"That's what the report says."
Vance made a note.
I returned to Nick.
"What was Clara's price?"
His face changed.
"You saw that phrase."
"Answer."
"Lantern Seven was funded to protect her."
"Seventy-five thousand dollars this morning."
"I didn't get it."
"The transaction says—"
"The transaction says it was assigned to Lantern Seven."
"Which is you."
"Originally."
"Originally?"
He looked furious now.
"Someone reassigned the identifier."
"To who?"
"I don't know."
"Then why did Eleanor say you're Lantern Seven?"
"Because I was."
The distinction mattered.
I could hear it.
"Explain the system."
Nick leaned back.
"Protected contacts were given code designations so personal names didn't appear in ordinary trust administration."
"Clara's name appeared."
"Because someone broke protocol."
"Why?"
"Probably intentionally."
"To make it look like she was taking money."
"Or to send a message."
I thought of the anonymous text.
IT WAS HER PRICE.
"What did they want from Clara in Aspen?"
Nick looked at the note again.
"Information."
"About me."
"About your grandfather's belongings."
"The compass."
"Among other things."
"What else?"
He hesitated.
"Documents."
"My grandfather didn't leave me documents."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Did you inventory everything after he died?"
"No."
"Who did?"
"My father."
"Did you ask him?"
A knot formed in my stomach.
My parents.
They had not entered this nightmare yet.
I wanted to keep them out.
That probably meant it was already too late.
"What kind of documents?"
"Arthur believed your grandfather stole original trust records when he left Sterling Maritime."
"Did he?"
"Nobody knows."
"Eleanor?"
"She believes he copied them."
"What's the difference?"
"If he stole originals, some transactions conducted afterward could be legally challenged because the chain of custody would be compromised."
"And if he copied them?"
"They might still prove misconduct."
"Either way, Arthur wanted them."
"Yes."
"And he thought Clara knew."
"He thought she could be pressured."
My fists clenched.
"What did you do?"
Nick looked almost offended.
"I protected her."
"How?"
"I went to Aspen."
I stared.
"When?"
"The second night of her conference."
"She never saw you."
"That was the point."
"You followed my wife."
"I followed Helen Ward."
"Why?"
"Because Helen was dangerous."
"Did you threaten her?"
"No."
"What did you do?"
"Paid her."
The room went still.
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand."
"From Lantern Seven."
"Yes."
"To leave Clara alone."
"To report that Clara knew nothing useful and that approaching your family directly had increased exposure."
I laughed without humor.
"So everybody was paying everybody."
"Welcome to rich families."
"I'm not part of your rich family."
Nick looked at me.
"You keep saying that like blood cares what you think."
I stood again.
"Blood doesn't care about anything."
He watched me.
"That's what my grandfather understood."
For the first time, Nick seemed to have no response.
I sat.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Eleanor ordered me not to."
"That never stopped you before."
"No."
He looked down.
"But I agreed."
"Why?"
"Because you were happy."
The answer caught me off guard.
Nick continued.
"You had Clara. Two kids. A normal job. A house you complained cost too much. You thought the biggest political crisis in your life was whether we should merge the analytics team with digital strategy."
I said nothing.
"You didn't know there were people who tracked your family because of what your grandfather might have hidden."
"And you thought ignorance protected us."
"Yes."
"You were wrong."
"Obviously."
I pointed toward the transaction.
"Why fire me today?"
His eyes lifted.
There it was.
The question beneath every other question.
Nick breathed out slowly.
"Because Carter told me to."
"That's not enough."
"No."
"Try again."
"He told me if I didn't remove you immediately, he would move on Clara."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"What?"
"At 9:22 this morning, after you texted Marcus, Carter pulled me aside."
"What did he know?"
"That you had stopped."
"How?"
"I don't know."
"Did he know Eleanor was there?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"He said Eleanor had made contact with you and that the situation had changed."
"Changed how?"
"Your protection arrangement was over."
I gripped the edge of the table.
"What did that mean?"
"He said if you returned to Vanguard still employed, Arthur's people would interpret you as active."
"Active in what?"
"The trust dispute."
"So you fired me."
"Yes."
"To protect me?"
"Initially."
That single word stopped me.
"Initially."
Nick looked miserable.
"I was also angry."
I stared.
"A client worth millions was sitting in my boardroom."
"And I was doing CPR."
"I know."
"Now."
"I knew then."
My anger returned full force.
"You called me irresponsible."
"I was trying to make it believable."
"You told me I should have kept driving."
His voice dropped.
"I know."
"That wasn't acting."
"No."
The honesty hurt more than another excuse.
"I was furious. Terrified. Carter was threatening your family. The merger was falling apart. Eleanor had disappeared. You walked in covered in blood asking me to explain myself."
He looked at me.
"And for one ugly minute, I meant what I said."
Silence.
There it was.
Not a misunderstood hero.
Not a secret savior.
A flawed man who had protected us in some ways and failed me in another.
I could deal with that more easily than mythology.
"What about the fifty-thousand-dollar check?"
"I didn't know Carter planned it."
"But you stood there."
"I wanted you to take it."
"Why?"
"Because leaving Colorado would have bought us time."
"Us."
"You think I wasn't trapped too?"
I leaned back.
"What were you doing in the Vanguard acquisition?"
Nick's face closed.
Vance spoke.
"You don't have to answer him."
"I know."
Nick looked at me.
"I signed documents I shouldn't have signed."
"Knowing?"
"Knowing they were structured strangely. Not knowing why."
"That's evasive."
"It's accurate."
"Were you stealing?"
"No."
"Helping Carter move money?"
"I knew fees were being shifted through shell entities."
"That's helping."
"I told myself it was tax positioning."
"You knew better."
He looked away.
"Probably."
I sat with that.
"Why send me back to my desk?"
Nick frowned.
"What?"
"You said, 'Don't forget your desk.'"
His expression changed.
"You noticed that."
"Eventually."
"I needed you to go upstairs."
"Why?"
"Because your grandfather's compass was there."
I stared.
"You knew."
"Eleanor told me years ago that if anything ever happened to her and you became involved, I was supposed to make sure you had Arthur Miller's compass."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
He leaned forward.
"She said the compass wasn't evidence. She said it was direction."
My mind went back to my grandfather.
A surveyor.
A man who had told me that knowing where you stood helped you determine where to go.
A compass engraved with initials belonging to a name he'd buried.
"Direction to what?"
Nick shook his head.
"I genuinely don't know."
Vance's phone rang.
He stepped away.
Nick lowered his voice.
"Sebastian."
"What?"
"If you still have that compass, don't give it to Eleanor."
I stared.
"Why?"
"Because whatever she says, this didn't begin with Arthur."
"Who did it begin with?"
Before Nick could answer, Vance returned.
His expression had hardened.
"We have the receiving account for the seventy-five thousand."
I stood.
"Nick?"
"No."
"Clara?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Vance looked directly at me.
"Your father."
I stopped moving.
"My father?"
"Daniel Miller."
Nick whispered a curse.
Vance continued.
"The transfer went into an account opened in his name three months ago."
I shook my head.
"No."
"Sebastian—"
"My father is seventy-one years old. He's retired. He spends half his week rebuilding old radios and complaining about property taxes."
"That may all be true."
"He doesn't know anything about this."
Vance held my gaze.
"The account received the money at 7:19 this morning."
My mouth went dry.
One minute after the Lantern Seven transfer.
"And forty-three minutes later," Vance said, "your father withdrew all seventy-five thousand dollars in cash."
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: My Father Had Been Hiding My Grandfather’s Last Instructions for Twenty Years, and the Cash He Took Was Meant to Buy Something Arthur Feared
The Woman Beside Route Six Knew My Name Before Her Heart Stopped, and Somehow My Boss Knew I Had Found Her
Part 6 of 20
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