Chapter 8 - THE HEIRLOOM IN THE FLOORBOARDSBack at the mansion, the storm had knocked out the main power grid, leaving the cavernous halls lit only by emergency candles and the roaring stone fireplaces.
Vanessa Sterling sat in the formal drawing room, her coat already buttoned, her small leather overnight bag resting beside her chair. When the heavy oak doors opened and Gabriel walked in—his coat dusted with snow, his hands bare and clean—she stood up so fast her champagne flute shattered against the marble hearth.
"Gabriel. Thank god. The deputies called from the gate—they said Calvin went rogue—"
"Calvin signed a full confession on the drive back," Gabriel interrupted, his voice cutting through the room like cold water. "He confessed to planting the inspector's files in the east turret, and he confessed that your father’s office wired forty thousand dollars to his offshore account yesterday afternoon."
Vanessa’s face drained of every drop of color until she looked like a wax figure under the candlelight. "That’s... that’s absurd. My father is in Chicago. He wouldn't know a dog handler from a stable boy."
"Your father knew my uncle Stefano very well," Gabriel said, walking toward her with slow, measured strides. He pulled the old Polaroid photograph from his pocket and laid it on the mahogany table between them. "He also knew that Stefano didn't leave his car by the harbor in ninety-eight. He was buried beneath the foundation of the north conservatory—directly under the floor where your family’s winter ballroom now stands."
Vanessa backed away until her shoulders hit the leaded glass of the bay window. "You can't prove anything. The police chief is a family friend—"
"The police chief resigned ten minutes ago," Victor said from the doorway, tossing a heavy brass badge onto the rug. "The state attorney general’s office took over the jurisdiction at nine o'clock. They're seizing the Sterling accounts as we speak."
Vanessa stared at Gabriel, her elegant composure shattering completely. "You planned this. You brought that girl here on purpose. You used her as bait."
"No," Gabriel said quietly, his dark eyes fixed on hers. "I brought her here because she was the only person in Milwaukee who didn't look at my house and see a man to be feared, or a wallet to be drained. She just saw a dog that needed a bath."
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He turned his back on her, walking toward the grand staircase where Evelyn stood on the landing, wrapped in a simple gray wool shawl, watching them in silence.
"Victor," Gabriel said without looking back. "Escort Miss Sterling to her car. Make sure she doesn't stop until she crosses the Illinois state line."
