Helen led me into a reception room lined with photographs of restored mantels, stained glass, and carved staircases.
“Your father worried valuable pieces would vanish if the estate fell into the wrong hands,” she said. “He contracted us to store certain items only with trustee permission.”
“My mother sent a mirror today.”
Helen checked her clipboard.
“She attempted to. We accepted it pending verification. Without your signature, it cannot be released or sold.”
The room seemed to sway.
“So she doesn’t know I’m trustee.”
Helen’s gaze softened.
“I suspect she knows enough to be afraid.”
Daniel and Elliot arrived together, both wearing the expression of men trying not to ask why the woman they cared about had entered a mysterious warehouse alone.
Helen produced a folder from a locked cabinet. Inside were inventories, photographs, and a letter addressed to the trustee upon first contact.
Elliot examined the seals.
