Chapter 6 - THE VANISHED GROUNDSKEEPER
My investigator tracked Julian Rivers to a small town in northern Quebec. It took two weeks. He had changed his name. He had grown a beard. But he had not been careful enough. He had told one person his real name. An old drinking companion who remembered the Harrington fortune.
I made arrangements immediately. I would travel alone. I did not know what I would find. I did not know if Julian would speak. Or shoot. Or run.
Before departing, I visited Leo in the nursery. He was sitting up now, bright-eyed and wobbly, playing with wooden blocks on a rug. When he saw me, he squealed and reached out both hands. I lifted him into my arms and held him close. He smelled of milk and sunshine. He was my whole world.
“Daddy has to go away for a little while,” I whispered into his soft hair. “But I will come back. And when I do… I will make certain no one ever hurts us again.”
My brother stood in the doorway. “You are certain about this? Going alone?”
“I need to look him in the eye,” I said. “I need to hear the truth from his mouth. Not Vivienne’s version. Not anyone else’s. His.”
“And if he is dangerous?”
“Then I will be careful.” I settled Leo back into his playpen. “Watch over him. Watch over Vivienne too. If she tries to leave… or receives any strange communications… detain her immediately.”
“Understood.” He paused. “Adrian… what if Vivienne sent you there on a wild chase? What if Julian has nothing to do with this?”
“Then I return,” I said. “And I start over. But until I speak with him… I will never know peace.”
The journey took two days. Train then car then long, winding roads through pine forests. I arrived late in the afternoon at a small cabin on the edge of town. Smoke curled from the chimney. An axe stood embedded in a chopping block. A pair of work boots sat on the porch.
I walked up the steps slowly. I knocked.
Silence.
I knocked again. “Julian. I need to speak with you.”
The door swung open.
Julian Rivers stood there. Older than I remembered. Greyer. Harder around the edges. But his eyes… those familiar, tired eyes. They widened when he saw me. He stepped backward.
“Adrian,” he breathed. “How did you—?”
“I have been looking for you,” I said. “For a very long time.”
He looked past me toward the road. Checking for others. Checking for police. Then he stepped aside.
“Come in,” he said. “Quickly. Before anyone sees.”
The cabin was sparse. One room. A fireplace. A table stacked with old newspapers. He closed the door and bolted it. He leaned against it, chest heaving.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “Your father swore he would never let anyone come looking. He swore—”
“My father is dead, Julian.”
Julian went still. He stared at me. “Dead?”
“Three months ago. Heart attack. Peacefully.” I stepped closer. “And now I am here. Asking about the day Elena died.”
Julian turned away. He walked to the fireplace. He gripped the mantel. “I have nothing to say to you. I served my time. I was paid. I swore silence.”
“You were paid to hide a murder!” I said. My voice cracked. “Elena did not slip. She did not drown by accident. You met her by the river. You argued. And you killed her.”
Julian spun around. His face was pale. His eyes wide.
“I did not kill her!” he shouted. “I loved her! Like a daughter! I would never—”
“Then what happened?” I demanded. “Tell me! Tell me the truth and I swear I will listen!”
He stared at me. He looked at the door. At the window. As if expecting someone to burst in. Then he sank heavily into a wooden chair. He buried his face in his hands.
“I met her,” he said, his voice muffled. “She called for me. Said she needed to walk. Said she had questions. We walked along the river. We argued… yes. But not about money. About something else. Something terrible.”
“What?” I pressed. “What did she know?”
Julian lifted his head. His eyes were wet. “She knew someone was poisoning her, Adrian. She told me she had been feeling ill for months. Weak. Confused. She suspected someone in the house. Someone close. And she was afraid.”
My blood turned to ice. “Poison? She thought she was being poisoned?”
“She begged me to help her find proof,” Julian said. “We arranged to meet again that evening. At the boathouse. She said she had discovered something. Something in the tea. Something in the sugar. But when I arrived… she was already there. Near the water. Fighting with a man.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Who? Julian, who was with her?”
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Julian stood up slowly. He walked to the window. He peered out through the curtains. Then he turned back to me, his face grave.
“I could not see his face clearly. He had his back to me. But I heard Elena speak his name. Just before she fell.” Julian paused. He took a breath that shuddered in his chest. “She said… ‘How could you, brother?’”
