“What?”
“That ring belonged to your father’s private attorney.”
I looked back at Evelyn.
She held the photograph out to me.
On the reverse, written in blue ink, was a message neither of us had seen before.
If Adrian ever finds you, ask him what happened to his father’s missing ledger.
PART 4 (THE END)
I looked back at the photograph.
The man stood beneath the hospital’s fluorescent lights, one shoulder turned toward the camera. His face was indistinct, but the ring was not.
A black onyx stone surrounded by a narrow silver band.
I had seen it on my father’s hand countless times.
Not my father’s attorney.
My father’s private accountant, Daniel Vale.
“He died,” I said.
Marcus’s expression remained fixed on the photograph. “The records say he died three years ago.”
“Three years ago,” Evelyn repeated. “When I left Chicago.”
The timing settled between us.
