For nearly ten seconds after Victor said the words, nobody moved. The dry New Mexico wind pushed dust across the motel parking lot. Somewhere beyond the fence, a loose piece of metal knocked rhythmically against a post. I still held Thomas’s notebook in both hands, open to the page describing the night Richard Sterling died. Luna stared at Victor as though she had stopped understanding language.
“The key isn’t with Naomi,” she said.
“No.”
“She never had it.”
“I know.”
“Then why would someone attack her looking for it?”
Victor’s jaw tightened. “Because they believe she knows where you keep it.”
Luna pulled out her phone.
Victor stopped her. “Who are you calling?”
“The hospital.”
“Use mine.”
She looked at him.
“Your communications may be monitored.”
That sentence seemed to make the entire situation more real. Cameras in the penthouse had been invasive. The broken office had been threatening. But Naomi being struck unconscious in the company parking garage meant someone had crossed the line from surveillance into violence.
Luna took Victor’s phone.
I had never seen her hands shake that badly.
He gave us what little information he had while she waited for the hospital operator. Naomi had left Sterling headquarters after an internal security meeting. She had reached the lower garage when someone approached her from behind. There were no witnesses. The nearest camera had been turned toward a concrete pillar for seven minutes. A security officer found her on the ground beside her car.
“Seven minutes,” I said.
Victor nodded.
“Same kind of outage as the break-in.”
“Probably the same person?”
“Or the same access.”
Luna turned away as someone answered.
“Naomi Chen. She was brought in from Sterling Marketing.”
Her voice was clipped and controlled.
Then she stopped.
I watched her shoulders lower slightly.
“Conscious?”
Another pause.
“Thank you.”
She ended the call and looked at us.
“She’s awake.”
Relief loosened something in my chest.
“How bad?”
“Concussion. Four stitches. Bruised ribs.”
Victor said, “We need to get back.”
Luna nodded immediately.
“We leave now.”
“What about Thomas?” I asked.
She looked at me.
The question hurt both of us for different reasons.
My father had been in this room recently. He had vanished again. There was a car that had fled when we arrived, an unfinished warning on his phone, and a notebook that might prove Derek lied about the night Richard died.
But Naomi was in a hospital because of us.
Because of Box 314.
Because someone believed the key mattered.
Luna said quietly, “We can leave Samira here.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever was watching the motel now knows we found it.”
“So?”
“So Thomas may return after we leave. Or whoever is following him may.”
I looked toward the empty room.
Part of me wanted to stay.
That part was nine years old.
It believed my father might still walk through the door if I waited long enough.
I closed the notebook.
“We go.”
Luna searched my face.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
That was the most honest answer I had.
“But Naomi shouldn’t be paying for secrets she didn’t choose.”
Luna nodded once.
We drove back through the night.
Nobody slept.
Victor arranged for a second team to remain near the motel and watch the diner. He also had Thomas’s phone, notebook, and photographs transferred to secure storage.
Luna sat beside me in the back seat.
For the first hour she worked.
Then her laptop remained open but untouched.
Finally she said, “Naomi has been with me for eight years.”
I turned.
“She started as an executive assistant when my father was still alive.”
“Did she work for him?”
“Briefly.”
“Did he trust her?”
“He trusted very few people.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Luna looked down.
“Yes.”
That mattered.
“If Richard hid a key in your picture frame, could Naomi have known?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Could he have given her instructions?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer frustrated her.
Luna hated not knowing.
I was starting to understand that uncertainty did not simply make her uncomfortable. It made her feel unsafe.
“Maybe that’s why they attacked her,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Not because she knew where the key was.”
“Then why?”
“Because somebody thinks Richard told her more than he told you.”
Luna’s face hardened.
“Then they’ll try again.”
Victor, from the front passenger seat, said, “Not if we prevent it.”
Luna stared out the window.
“You didn’t prevent this one.”
Nobody answered.
At four-thirty in the morning, we reached Denver.
The hospital smelled of disinfectant and burnt coffee.
Naomi looked smaller in the bed than she ever had behind her immaculate executive desk. A bandage covered part of her forehead. Purple bruising had begun along her cheek.
When Luna entered, Naomi tried to sit.
“Don’t.”
Naomi stopped.
“Bossy.”
“You’re surprised?”
“No.”
Luna moved to the bed.
For a moment she seemed unsure what to do.
Then she took Naomi’s hand.
“I’m sorry.”
Naomi frowned.
“For what?”
“This happened because of me.”
“No.”
“Naomi.”
“This happened because some lunatic hit me with what felt like a brick.”
Victor stood near the door.
“Did you see the attacker?”
Naomi looked toward him.
“Not properly.”
“Anything useful?”
“Male. Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“He didn’t speak much.”
“What did he say?”
Naomi closed her eyes, replaying it.
“Where is the Sterling key?”
Victor exchanged a look with Luna.
“Exact words?”
“Yes.”
“Not vault key?”
“No. Sterling key.”
That was different.
I felt it immediately.
“So he might not mean Box 314.”
Luna looked at me.
Naomi nodded slowly.
“I thought he meant the frame key because of yesterday.”
“But maybe he didn’t.”
Victor asked, “What happened next?”
“I told him I didn’t know.”
“And?”
“He said Richard had trusted the wrong woman before.”
Luna went still.
“What?”
Naomi looked at her.
“That’s what he said.”
Victor leaned closer.
“Exact phrasing?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
Richard trusted the wrong woman before.
I thought of Eleanor.
Naomi.
Maybe someone else entirely.
“Then he hit me.”
Luna’s face had gone pale.
“With what?”
“I don’t know.”
Naomi touched the bandage.
“The next thing I remember is Garrett from night security kneeling over me.”
“Did he take anything?”
“My purse was open.”
“Phone?”
“Still there.”
“Wallet?”
“Still there.”
“Access badge?”
Naomi’s expression changed.
She reached instinctively toward the bedside table.
Nothing.
“My badge.”
Victor’s posture sharpened.
“You had it when you left the office?”
“Of course.”
“Did security recover it?”
“I don’t know.”
He immediately called.
Thirty seconds later his expression confirmed the answer.
No badge.
Luna stood.
“We shut down every credential connected to Naomi.”
Victor was already doing it.
Naomi said, “Wait.”
Everyone looked at her.
“My badge doesn’t matter.”
“It gives access to three Sterling floors.”
“No.”
She looked directly at Luna.
“It gives access to your father’s old archive room.”
The room went silent.
“What archive room?” I asked.
Luna stared at Naomi.
“I thought it was empty.”
“It mostly is.”
“Mostly?”
Naomi swallowed.
“When Richard died, records were transferred or destroyed. But there’s one locked cabinet nobody ever catalogued.”
Luna stepped closer.
“Why?”
“Because your father told me not to.”
There it was.
The connection we had wondered about.
Richard had trusted Naomi.
Luna’s voice dropped.
“When?”
“About two weeks before he died.”
Naomi looked ashamed.
“He told me that if anyone ever came asking about ‘the Sterling key,’ I was not to help them.”
Luna stared at her.
“You have known that phrase for three years?”
“I didn’t know what it meant.”
“You never told me?”
“He specifically told me not to tell anyone unless the phrase came up.”
“It came up yesterday when we found the vault key.”
“No. You found a numbered key. Nobody called it the Sterling key.”
Luna turned away, furious.
I understood both sides.
Richard had designed secrecy like a maze.
Everyone carried one piece.
Nobody knew enough to see the whole structure.
Victor said, “Where is the archive room?”
“Sublevel two.”
“Does Derek have access?”
“No.”
“Did Richard?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“Me. Luna. Building security.”
“And now whoever took your badge.”
Naomi’s face tightened.
Victor was already speaking into his phone when Luna headed for the door.
I followed.
“Where are you going?”
“Sterling.”
“You’ve been awake all night.”
“So has whoever attacked Naomi.”
“That is not an argument for becoming less cautious.”
She stopped so abruptly I nearly walked into her.
“My father left a locked cabinet. Someone assaulted my assistant to reach it. I am not waiting until morning.”
“It is morning.”
“You know what I mean.”
I looked back toward Naomi.
She was watching us.
“You’re both terrible at being married,” she said.
Luna stared.
Naomi managed a weak smile.
“You argue like people who care and negotiate like lawyers.”
I almost laughed.
Luna did not.
But she squeezed Naomi’s shoulder before leaving.
Sterling headquarters was nearly empty at six.
Victor’s security team met us in the underground garage.
The sight of the place where Naomi had been attacked changed Luna immediately. Her steps slowed. She looked toward the concrete beside Naomi’s assigned parking space.
A small dark stain remained.
Blood.
Luna stopped.
I stood beside her without speaking.
Then she kept walking.
The archive room was behind an unmarked steel door on sublevel two.
Naomi’s stolen badge had been used at 2:14 a.m.
Whoever attacked her had come here almost immediately.
The security camera outside the door showed static from 2:11 until 2:23.
“Same pattern,” Victor said.
Inside, rows of shelving held old tax records, client contracts, campaign files, and boxes labeled by year.
At the back stood a gray cabinet.
Its door hung open.
Luna crossed the room.
“Was it forced?”
Victor examined the lock.
“No.”
“Then how?”
He pointed.
“Electronic plus mechanical override.”
“Naomi’s badge handled the electronic.”
“And the mechanical?”
“Probably a key.”
The Sterling key.
The cabinet was nearly empty.
One shelf remained dusty except for a clean rectangular space where something had recently been removed.
“What was there?” I asked.
Luna shook her head.
Naomi had not known either.
Victor crouched.
“Something else.”
Behind the cabinet lay a torn corner of an envelope.
He lifted it with forceps.
Three handwritten letters were visible.
BEN.
My pulse jumped.
“Bennett.”
Luna looked at me.
Victor found another piece beneath the shelf.
A date.
The year my father disappeared.
The cabinet had contained something connected to Thomas.
And somebody had removed it less than four hours earlier.
Luna stepped back.
“We’re always behind.”
I said, “Not entirely.”
She looked at me.
“Whoever took it needed Naomi’s badge and another key.”
“Yes.”
“Which means the mechanical key had to come from somewhere.”
Victor understood.
“Access logs for physical-key storage.”
He called security.
The answer arrived five minutes later.
Sterling kept legacy mechanical keys in a restricted safe on the executive floor.
Only three people had authorization to sign them out.
Luna.
Naomi.
And one board officer designated under Richard’s old security protocol.
“Who?” Luna asked.
Victor read the name.
Her expression went blank.
“Say it.”
“Eleanor Sterling.”
Luna stared at him.
“My mother?”
Nobody spoke.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text.
No photograph this time.
Just a message.
You are asking the wrong Sterling.
My chest tightened.
Luna read over my shoulder.
A second message arrived.
Your father trusted Richard.
Richard trusted Eleanor.
Ask what happened the night Thomas ran.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Eleanor Finally Told Us What Happened the Night My Father Disappeared, and Her Confession Changed How Luna Saw Her Own Family
The Morning My Boss Closed Her Office Door, Opened a File About My Life, and Made an Impossible Offer
Part 9 of 26
