Chapter 10
The harbor office had three floors, but only the second showed any light.
Rain moved across the windows in thin silver lines as Roman parked beside the seawall. Beyond the lot, the Atlantic was a black, restless sheet. Waves struck the rocks below the building and withdrew with a sound like breath pulled through clenched teeth.
Lena Ortiz waited beneath the outside stairs with a neutral evidence officer named Priya Shah. Priya carried a hard-sided case and wore a navy raincoat over office clothes. She looked at the brass key in my hand, then at the number cut into its edge.
“Eighteen,” she said.
“Daniel said the archive was sealed.”
“Then we document the seal before anyone touches the door.”
Roman stayed beside me but didn’t reach for my arm. He had learned, finally, that standing close could be protection without becoming a cage. I noticed the effort anyway. That mattered more than he probably knew.
We climbed the exterior stairs. Wind pushed rain beneath the landing roof, cold against my bare shoulder where the lace of my gown had been replaced by a borrowed cream blouse. The old scar beneath it tightened whenever I felt watched. Tonight it seemed to have its own pulse.
The archive door stood at the end of a narrow concrete walkway. A strip of red wax crossed the lock plate. It was cracked down the middle.
Priya raised her camera. “Nobody goes farther.”
Roman stopped behind me. Lena moved to the side, blocking the stairs from view while Priya photographed the seal, the hinges, the surrounding wall, and our shoes.
“Was it already broken?” Lena asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Daniel warned us not to enter if it was.”
A light came on inside.
Not bright. A narrow yellow line appeared beneath the door, then vanished.
Roman’s hand moved toward his jacket.
I caught his wrist before he could draw anything. His eyes dropped to my fingers, then returned to my face.
“Ask,” I said.
He held still. “Priya, should we call the police?”
“Already did,” she said. “Local patrol is three minutes out.”
The light returned beneath the door. Someone shifted inside. A metal drawer slammed.
I stepped back. Every part of me wanted to know what waited in that room, but wanting answers didn’t mean giving whoever was inside control of the evidence.
The patrol car arrived without siren. Two officers came up the stairs, one woman and one man. Priya explained the broken seal while Lena showed them Daniel’s signed protection agreement. They opened the door only after photographing the wax again.
The room smelled of damp paper, dust, and old salt.
Shelves lined every wall. Most held harbor permits and accounting books. Several drawers had been pulled open. A desk lamp burned near the back, though no one was there. On the floor lay a leather folder, its contents scattered across the concrete.
Priya photographed everything before we moved.
I crouched beside the folder. The first page showed a Bellhaven Maritime Trust routing form dated October 18. The second carried the same winged crown symbol as Roman’s pendant and the mark hidden in my scar.
Below it was a list of families displaced by harbor access changes.
Their names had been crossed out in ink.
Beside each was a replacement entry: donors, contractors, and public figures connected to the trust.
One name appeared three times.
Malcolm Rusk.
Roman went very still behind me.
Then I saw the last page. It was a photograph of Adrian Vale at a charity gala, smiling beside Rusk beneath a banner bearing the Bellhaven Maritime Trust seal. The image was timestamped two days before Adrian’s public statement about my marriage.
On the table between them sat a folder labeled: WHITMORE—MEDIA RESPONSE.
My stomach tightened.
Adrian hadn’t simply found a story to exploit. He had been given one.
Priya sealed the folder in plastic. “This is enough to establish a chain,” she said. “Not enough to interpret intent.”
“I know,” I said.
Outside, the ocean struck the rocks again.
Roman looked at me. “Clara—”
“No,” I said quietly. “Not until we know what else they changed.”
I picked up the photograph through its evidence sleeve and studied Adrian’s confident smile.
May you like
Then my phone rang.
His name appeared on the screen.
