Chapter 7 - THE HOUSE WITH NO PHOTOGRAPHS
Damian's Manhattan home occupied five floors of a converted limestone building on the Upper East Side.
Caitlyn had passed the block dozens of times without knowing he lived there.
That felt appropriate.
Damian Hamilton's life seemed designed to hide in plain sight.
Vincent led her through a garage elevator and into a private kitchen.
The room was beautiful.
It was also almost aggressively unused.
Copper pans hung above an island with no scratches.
A bowl held fruit that looked too perfect to eat.
The refrigerator contained sparkling water, mustard, two steaks, and nothing else.
Caitlyn stared inside.
"This is depressing."
Vincent opened a cabinet.
"There's pasta."
"That does not rescue the situation."
"He eats at restaurants."
"He owns a dining room bigger than my apartment."
"He also owns a yacht he hates."
Caitlyn looked at him.
"Why does he own it?"
"Tax reasons and spite."
She almost smiled.
Then the image of Noah returned.
The signet ring.
Malcolm.
Caitlyn placed her phone on the counter.
"Tell me that could be someone else's ring."
Vincent did not insult her with false hope.
"It could."
"But?"
"But Malcolm has worn that ring for twenty-five years."
Caitlyn closed her eyes.
"Why would he let it appear in the photograph?"
"Maybe he didn't notice."
"You don't believe that."
"No."
Vincent leaned against the island.
"Malcolm is arrogant, not careless."
"So he wanted me to see it."
"Maybe."
"Why?"
"To make you hate Damian."
Caitlyn looked at him.
"That seems unnecessary."
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
"You hate him?"
"I am currently suspended, publicly humiliated, being framed for corporate espionage, and hiding in his empty kitchen while my brother is missing."
"That was not an answer."
Caitlyn opened the refrigerator again.
"I hate his groceries."
Vincent's mouth twitched.
The elevator opened.
Damian entered.
Caitlyn immediately closed the refrigerator.
His eyes went from her to Vincent.
"What did she say about my groceries?"
Vincent looked innocent.
"Nothing."
Damian took off his coat.
"You are a terrible liar."
"That's why you keep me around."
Damian looked at Caitlyn.
"Show me the photo."
She gave him the phone.
His face hardened when he saw the ring.
"Malcolm."
"You sound certain."
"That ring belonged to my grandfather."
Damian enlarged the image.
"There is only one."
Caitlyn's stomach tightened.
"Then why are we standing here?"
"Because walking into Malcolm's home and accusing him does not produce Noah."
"It might."
"It produces lawyers, destroyed evidence, and a man who knows we're coming."
"He already knows we're coming."
"Not the way I intend to."
Damian turned toward Vincent.
"How many people know she's here?"
"Four."
"Make it three."
Caitlyn stared.
Vincent did not.
"Which one?"
"The garage guard was replaced last month on Malcolm's recommendation."
Vincent's face went cold.
"I'll handle it."
He left.
Caitlyn and Damian were alone.
The silence changed immediately.
The kitchen felt too large.
She folded her arms.
"You fired me convincingly."
"Suspended."
"The reporters didn't hear the distinction."
"They were not supposed to."
"You could have warned me about the cameras."
"I did not know they were there."
Caitlyn watched his face.
"That bothers you."
"Everything I don't know bothers me."
"That sounds exhausting."
"It is."
The answer surprised her.
Damian put her phone on the counter.
"Are you hungry?"
"No."
"When did you last eat?"
Caitlyn thought.
That was already a bad sign.
"Chicago."
"When in Chicago?"
"Does airport coffee count?"
"No."
"Then I object to the question."
Damian opened a drawer and removed a takeout menu.
Caitlyn stared.
"You have menus?"
"I am not an animal."
"Your refrigerator disagrees."
For one second, Damian's expression almost became a smile.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes."
Caitlyn watched the change happen.
The softness vanished.
"When?"
A pause.
"Who authorized it?"
His eyes lifted to Caitlyn.
"Send me everything."
He ended the call.
"What?"
"Silver Pines received a second transfer order."
Caitlyn's heart jumped.
"For Noah?"
"No."
"Then who?"
"His medical records."
She frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Someone requested the original physical chart and archived imaging."
"Why?"
Damian's gaze hardened.
"Because digital files can be copied."
Caitlyn understood.
"Physical records can be destroyed."
"Yes."
"Did they release them?"
"No."
Relief lasted one second.
"Who requested them?"
Damian turned the phone toward her.
The authorization listed Hamilton Holdings Legal Department.
Caitlyn stared.
"That's impossible."
"Our legal department denies sending it."
"Whose signature?"
Damian scrolled.
Malcolm Hamilton.
Caitlyn looked up.
"He is not even in legal."
"He does not need to be if the person receiving the request believes his name outranks procedure."
"So we have him."
"We have a forged request carrying his name."
"And the ring."
"A photograph can be staged."
Caitlyn's frustration exploded.
"How much proof do you need?"
Damian's eyes narrowed.
"Enough that he cannot walk away."
"Noah doesn't need a court case."
"Noah needs us to find the person controlling this without frightening them into moving him again."
Caitlyn stepped closer.
"And if it's Malcolm?"
Damian became very still.
"Then I deal with Malcolm."
"What does that mean?"
"You don't want the answer."
"Stop deciding what I want."
The words hung between them.
Damian looked at her for a long time.
Then he surprised her.
"Fine."
His voice was quiet.
"If Malcolm took Noah and arranged your parents' crash, I will destroy everything he values."
Caitlyn's mouth went dry.
"His position."
Damian took one step closer.
"His money."
Another.
"His reputation."
His eyes were almost black.
"His freedom, if possible."
He paused.
"And if none of those are enough, I have other methods."
Caitlyn knew exactly what he meant.
She should have stepped back.
She did not.
"I don't want Noah rescued by becoming the reason someone dies."
Damian's expression sharpened.
"You think that would be your responsibility?"
"If you do it because of me."
"I don't do anything because someone makes me."
"That is the most Damian Hamilton sentence you have ever said."
His mouth moved again.
This time she definitely saw it.
A small, unwilling smile.
It vanished almost immediately.
"Eat something."
"There he is."
"Caitlyn."
"Fine."
They ordered food.
The absurd normality of choosing soup while Noah was missing made Caitlyn feel almost sick.
She ate anyway because Damian placed the bowl in front of her and then sat across the island until she did.
He did not eat.
"You're staring."
"I'm waiting."
"That's worse."
"Eat."
"You are impossible."
"Frequently."
After six bites, her hands stopped shaking.
After ten, her mind became clearer.
She hated that he had been right.
Vincent returned with a tablet.
"We found the account behind the two hundred fifty thousand."
Caitlyn pushed the bowl aside.
"Who owns it?"
"A shell company tied to Mercer Consulting."
Damian frowned.
"I know that name."
"You should."
Vincent placed the tablet on the island.
"Mercer Consulting handled Northstar's internal legal cleanups in 2019."
Caitlyn stared at the screen.
"Who ran it?"
A photograph appeared.
Elias Mercer.
Fifty-seven.
Former attorney.
Former federal prosecutor.
Disbarred in 2020 after evidence tampering allegations.
Current location unknown.
Damian's face changed.
"He's alive?"
Vincent nodded.
"Apparently."
"You thought he was dead?" Caitlyn asked.
"I thought he left the country after my father died."
Vincent scrolled.
"He came back six months ago."
"Why would Mercer frame Malcolm?"
Damian looked at the signet-ring photograph.
"Maybe he isn't framing him."
Vincent nodded.
"Malcolm used Mercer for off-book work."
Caitlyn's skin chilled.
"Including the Northstar audit?"
"Possibly."
Vincent opened another file.
"There's more."
Security footage from Hamilton Holdings showed Graham Bell, the chief technology officer, entering Damian's office at 11:41 p.m.
Seven minutes before Caitlyn's electronic authorization had been used at Silver Pines.
Caitlyn stared.
"He told me he heard I was being questioned."
Vincent nodded.
"And he entered Damian's office using an emergency override."
Damian's voice became quiet.
"Bring him in."
Vincent hesitated.
"We can't."
"Why?"
"He's gone."
"Gone where?"
"His apartment is empty."
"Airport?"
"No record."
Caitlyn leaned closer to the tablet.
"What about his phone?"
"Off."
"Car?"
"Found in a garage near Penn Station."
Damian's expression hardened.
"He ran."
Vincent shook his head.
"Maybe."
"What do you mean?"
Vincent opened one final photograph.
Graham Bell's car had blood on the driver's seat.
Caitlyn's stomach turned.
"How much?"
"Enough that he probably didn't walk away voluntarily."
Damian stared at the image.
"So someone used him to get inside my office, then removed him."
Vincent nodded.
Caitlyn looked at the clock.
Almost noon.
Noah had been missing for nearly twelve hours.
"We're getting farther away from him."
Damian looked at her.
"No."
He pointed to the screen.
"We're getting closer to the person who needed him."
"Why would they need Noah?"
Vincent answered softly.
"Because your father's note said he notices more than people think."
Caitlyn closed her eyes.
Noah had been eighteen during the crash.
He had been in the back seat.
He had survived with catastrophic injuries.
Everyone had assumed his memory of the accident was gone.
Maybe someone had recently learned otherwise.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A video file appeared.
Caitlyn opened it.
Noah was awake in a bed.
A man's voice came from off camera.
"Noah, who was in the black car?"
Noah's face tightened.
His fingers moved against the blanket.
The man asked again.
"Who followed your father?"
Noah made a sound.
Caitlyn leaned closer.
"What is he saying?"
Damian turned up the volume.
Noah's lips moved.
One broken word emerged.
"Uncle."
The video ended.
Caitlyn looked at Damian.
He looked back at her.
May you like
Neither needed to ask whose uncle Noah meant.
