Chapter 6 - ETHAN’S RED BOOK
Ryan searched every box Ethan had left behind.
There were not many.
His father had cleared Ethan’s Denver apartment after the funeral.
Furniture donated.
Clothes boxed.
Personal documents transferred to Carter family storage.
Ryan had been too devastated to participate.
At the time, he called it survival.
Now he called it a mistake.
Mark located six storage containers in the basement records room.
Ryan opened each personally.
Old jackets.
College photographs.
A broken guitar.
Ski goggles.
Receipts.
Nothing red.
Emily sat on the floor sorting papers.
“Maybe Ava doesn’t mean an actual book.”
“She’s six.”
“She called cufflinks shiny hands.”
Ryan looked at her.
“Exactly.”
Emily sighed.
The tension between them had not disappeared.
It had only been postponed by Ava’s needs.
Ryan still had questions about Claire.
About the secret meeting.
About six years of silence.
Emily knew it.
Neither was ready to open that door while Claire remained missing.
Mark entered carrying an old metal lockbox.
“Found this behind the last container.”
Ryan frowned.
“No key?”
Mark shook his head.
A locksmith opened it twenty minutes later.
Inside were three folders.
A photograph of Ethan and Claire together.
Ryan stared.
They looked happy.
Painfully normal.
Claire’s head rested on Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan’s hand covered her stomach.
She was pregnant.
Ryan turned the photograph over.
Ethan’s handwriting.
OUR LITTLE SECRET IS GETTING BIG.
Ryan smiled despite himself.
Then found a flash drive.
And a letter.
Addressed to Ryan.
His name.
Written by his brother.
Ryan sat.
Emily quietly left him alone.
The letter was short.
Ryan,
If Dad tells you I’m losing it, don’t believe him.
I found something in the old property accounts that makes no sense. Money moved through companies that technically don’t exist anymore. Graham says it’s restructuring. I think he’s lying.
Claire knows most of it. I wish she didn’t.
If something happens to me, look for the red ledger.
And please don’t blame her.
—E.
Ryan read it twice.
Then a third time.
He felt sick.
His brother had expected danger.
Ryan had known none of it.
Mark connected the flash drive to an isolated laptop.
Password protected.
Ryan tried Ethan’s birthday.
Wrong.
Claire’s birthday.
Wrong.
The name of Ethan’s dog.
Wrong.
Emily returned.
“Try ‘Marigold.’”
Ryan looked at her.
“Why?”
“Claire’s favorite flower.”
The drive opened.
Ryan stared at his wife.
She shrugged sadly.
“I knew my sister.”
Folders appeared.
Property transfers.
Trust documents.
Scanned bank records.
Photographs of handwritten accounting sheets.
Mark whistled quietly.
“This goes back decades.”
Ryan opened one file labeled E.C. TRUST.
His expression changed.
A trust created by Ryan’s grandfather divided several Carter family holdings between descendants.
Ryan controlled his portion.
Ethan controlled his.
But if Ethan died without children, his shares reverted to a management trust overseen by—
Graham Whitmore.
Emily stared.
“If Ava is legally Ethan’s child…”
“She inherits Ethan’s position.”
“How much?”
Ryan calculated.
“Depending on valuation?”
He looked at her.
“Hundreds of millions.”
Emily sat back.
“That’s why they needed her dead.”
Ryan shook his head.
“Not necessarily.”
“But—”
“Money is motive. Not proof.”
He opened another document.
Ethan had highlighted transfers from the old lakefront estate.
That same mansion.
For years before Ryan supposedly purchased it, payments had moved through Carter entities into a private legal trust.
Trustee:
Graham Whitmore.
Ryan leaned closer.
“What were you doing, Ethan?”
Mark found metadata on one scan.
“This came from a ledger.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
“Red?”
“Can’t tell.”
Ava wandered into the doorway holding Lily’s hand.
Ryan closed several files.
“Hey.”
Ava looked at the papers.
“Mommy had those.”
Ryan stood.
“Had what?”
She pointed at the handwritten accounting page.
“That.”
“Where?”
“In the red book.”
Ryan crouched.
“Did your mom still have it?”
Ava shook her head.
“The bad house man took it.”
Ryan kept his voice calm.
“Who is the bad house man?”
Ava looked at Emily.
Then Ryan.
“The man Mommy called Mr. Whitmore.”
Emily’s face changed.
Ryan’s chest tightened.
“Graham took the red ledger?”
Ava nodded.
“When?”
“Before we ran.”
“Where were you?”
Ava thought.
“The house with the green door.”
Ryan looked at Mark.
“Does that mean anything?”
“No.”
Ava continued.
“Mommy hid another thing.”
Ryan returned his attention to her.
“What?”
The girl pointed toward the folded photograph.
“Inside.”
Ryan had already examined it.
Or thought he had.
He carefully opened the photograph again.
The cardboard backing felt unusually thick.
Detective Ellis arrived and helped separate the layers without destroying evidence.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
No label.
One number stamped into it.
Ryan stared.
Emily whispered, “Locker?”
Mark was already searching.
Train stations.
Banks.
Private vaults.
Storage facilities.
Detective Ellis looked at the key.
“Could be anything.”
Ava spoke softly.
“Mommy said Uncle Ryan would know.”
Ryan looked at her.
He did not.
Then he remembered Ethan.
Their father had once rented private boxes at Union Station for sensitive documents when traveling.
Ryan had teased him about being stuck in the 1950s.
Box numbers had three digits.
Ryan stood.
“Union Station.”
Detective Ellis raised an eyebrow.
Ryan grabbed his coat.
“If Ethan’s red ledger survived six years…”
May you like
Emily finished the thought.
“Then someone has been killing to find the wrong copy.”
