Chapter 11: The Notebook

I lowered the phone slowly.

My fingers remained wrapped around it long after the call had ended.

Nathaniel's notebook.

For three years I believed it had disappeared with everything else after the accident.

"Who was that?" Damien asked.

"The hospital."

"Is something wrong?"

"No."

"Something has finally been found."

I picked up my handbag.

"I'm leaving."

"Where?"

"St. Gabriel Hospital."

"I'll drive you."

"No."

"Vivian..."

"I said no."

I walked past him.

This time he didn't try to stop me.

By the time my taxi reached St. Gabriel Hospital, rain had started falling.

The grey building looked exactly as it had three years ago.

Cold.

Silent.

Merciless.

The records office occupied a small corner on the ground floor.

A middle-aged woman looked up as I entered.

"Mrs. Ashford?"

"Yes."

"I'm Helen."

"Thank you for coming so quickly."

She disappeared into the archive room.

Moments later she returned carrying a worn black notebook sealed inside a transparent evidence bag.

"It was discovered behind an old filing cabinet during renovations yesterday."

"According to our register, it was logged as personal property belonging to Nathaniel Romano after the accident."

"How was it forgotten for three years?"

Helen looked embarrassed.

"Someone filed it under the wrong case number."

"I'm very sorry."

She slid a release form across the desk.

"Please sign here."

I signed without reading it.

The notebook finally rested in my hands.

It felt heavier than it should have.

The black leather cover was cracked.

The corners were scuffed.

There was a faint stain across the front that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

"Would you like somewhere private?" Helen asked gently.

"We have a consultation room."

"Please."

She led me into a small office overlooking the hospital gardens.

When the door closed behind her, I carefully removed the notebook from its plastic sleeve.

Nathaniel's handwriting covered the first page.

If you're reading this, Viv...

I'm sorry.

My vision blurred.

I blinked away the tears and turned the page.

The next several pages contained sketches.

Jewellery designs.

Stone measurements.

Supplier lists.

Ideas he had drawn for Verline.

I smiled despite myself.

Nathaniel had always believed Verline would become bigger than any luxury house in London.

He believed in me before I believed in myself.

I continued turning pages.

Then the handwriting changed.

Short notes.

Dates.

Meetings.

Names.

One name appeared again and again.

Sterling.

Another appeared beside it.

Ashford.

My heartbeat quickened.

The notes became more hurried.

Someone changed the ownership percentage.

Not authorised.

Need proof.

Must make copy.

I turned another page.

Blank.

Another.

Blank again.

My brow furrowed.

Half the notebook had been ripped out.

Not torn randomly.

Carefully removed.

Every missing sheet had been cut cleanly along the binding.

Someone had taken exactly what they wanted.

"No..." I whispered.

I searched the remaining pages.

Near the back, a folded receipt slipped onto the desk.

It was dated two days before Nathaniel's death.

One storage locker.

Paid in full for twelve months.

Locker 218.

I frowned.

The address belonged to a secure storage company on the east side of the city.

Nathaniel had rented a locker.

But why?

Another folded paper slid from between the final pages.

This one was smaller.

A handwritten map.

Simple directions.

A red X marked one location.

Locker 218.

Underneath, Nathaniel had written only one sentence.

If anything happens to me, don't let Damien find this first.

I stared at the words.

Not because they mentioned Damien.

Because Nathaniel had trusted him.

They had respected each other.

Something had changed in those final days.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.

Helen opened the door slightly.

"Mrs. Ashford..."

"I'm sorry to disturb you."

"There's a gentleman outside asking for you."

"Who?"

"He says his name is Damien Ashford."

I closed the notebook immediately.

"Tell him I'm busy."

Helen hesitated.

"I tried."

"He said he'll wait as long as it takes."

I slipped the notebook into my handbag.

Then looked out through the rain-covered window.

Damien stood beside his black car.

Completely soaked.

Waiting.

He had no idea that inside my bag lay the first real clue Nathaniel had left behind.

Or that someone had already removed half of the notebook before I ever found it.