Chapter 6 - Preston’s Secret
Preston asked to meet in Naomi’s office.
No Bianca.
No Thorne lawyer.
He brought his own attorney.
That told me he had finally understood the family he married into did not consider him permanent.
He looked older than thirty five.
“Mara.”
“Preston.”
Dante was not present.
I wanted the conversation to be mine.
Naomi asked:
“What does WPS 3187 mean?”
Preston swallowed.
“Whitmore? No.” Wrong surname. Need Thorne. He corrected himself? Let's make it Westport Private Storage, a secure records company. Good.
“Westport Private Storage.”
Naomi looked up.
“Where?”
“Alexandria.”
“How do you know?”
“Senator Thorne uses it.”
My pulse changed.
“What is 3187?”
“A private archive locker.”
“How?”
“I’ve seen bills.”
“For what?”
“Old campaign and legal records.”
I put the brass key on table.
Preston stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Those lockers require biometric or owner authorization now. Old keys are secondary.”
“So key alone does nothing.”
“No.”
“Good.”
No movie magic.
We would need legal authority.
Preston continued.
“Bianca’s father has been worried about an old Moretti matter for months.”
“Why now?”
“Dante started asking questions.”
There.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
Same time Dante received Isabella’s journal.
Information traveled fast through powerful families.
“What did Malcolm tell Bianca?”
“To find anything Eleanor Whitfield left.”
“Why me?”
“Because your employment file listed your mother.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So Bianca kept me as a maid because she hated me. Her father kept me because he wanted my mother’s evidence.”
Preston looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“And said nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing everything.”
There was the Preston I remembered.
Not violent.
Not cruel enough to strike.
Simply willing to let someone else pay for his fear.
He explained.
After marrying Bianca, he became executive director of the Thorne Civic Initiative.
Good salary.
House.
Connections.
All tied to Senator Thorne.
Eight months earlier Malcolm told him Eleanor had been involved in “false allegations” against the family.
Preston was instructed to report anything unusual in my room.
“Did you search it?”
“No.”
“Did Bianca?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“At least three.”
My stomach turned.
“The pregnancy test?”
“She found it looking for the bracelet.”
“Did she know bracelet mattered?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Malcolm showed her the same photograph.”
There.
“And at the cemetery?”
Preston lowered eyes.
“She went because she thought you’d be wearing it.”
The pregnancy accusation was fuel.
The bracelet was objective.
Bianca wanted both.
“Why tear it off?”
“She wanted to bring it to her father.”
Dante had interrupted.
That explained Bianca’s panic when he recognized it.
Then Preston said:
“Malcolm has something at Westport.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. But Bianca once said if Dante ever saw Locker 3187, her father would ‘lose more than his Senate seat.’”
Naomi leaned forward.
“Have you told law enforcement?”
“No.”
“Will you?”
Preston looked at me.
“I want immunity.”
I laughed.
Of course.
His lawyer corrected:
“He wants to explore cooperation terms.”
Not my problem.
We provided information to Detective Sarah Keene and federal investigators already reviewing the twenty year old redevelopment records.
They sought proper warrant.
No key theatrics.
No private break-in.
The investigation would move legally.
Preston also gave us something relevant to the present.
A voice message from Bianca.
Sent the morning before cemetery.
Dad says the bracelet is more important than whatever else she’s hiding. If Mara won’t give it up, make her.
“Make her.”
Bianca had acted.
Her assault was no longer merely jealous rage.
Part of it was evidence retrieval.
That could affect charges.
Then Preston played another.
Bianca:
And if she really is pregnant with your kid, I’ll bury her socially before she ever proves it.
Preston:
It isn’t mine.
Bianca:
You always defend her.
He had denied paternity before the cemetery.
Bianca attacked anyway.
I looked at Preston.
“You knew it couldn’t be yours?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you stop her?”
May you like
His answer was silence.
Exactly.
