Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Photograph
Vincent typed with shaking fingers.
Elena? Is this really you?
The answer came almost immediately.
Yes.
He closed his eyes.
One word had shattered four years of grief.
Where are you?
A pause.
Somewhere safe.
Please let me see you.
No reply came for nearly a minute.
Then a photograph appeared.
A little girl stood in a garden wearing a pink sweater. Her dark curls framed a face with Vincent's blue eyes and the same small dimple in her left cheek.
She held a stuffed rabbit against her chest.
Vincent touched the screen.
“Grace.”
The child looked about four years old.
Four years of birthdays.
Four years of first words, first steps, and bedtime stories.
Four years he could never recover.
He typed again.
I want to meet her. I want to meet both of you.
Elena's response came slowly.
You need to understand what happened before we can meet.
Vincent leaned forward.
Tell me.
Richard told me you had rejected our daughter. He showed me forged documents. When I tried to return to you, his men stopped me.
Why didn't you contact me another way?
I did. Every attempt ended with someone threatening Grace.
Vincent felt something cold settle in his chest.
Where is Richard now?
He knows I've been trying to contact you. I believe he's watching your house.
Vincent immediately looked toward Daniel.
“Double the security perimeter. Nobody enters or leaves without authorization.”
Daniel nodded.
Then Elena sent another message.
The woman raising Grace knows the truth about Daniel Bennett.
Vincent glanced at Clara, who sat nearby waiting for the medical team.
“Clara,” he said gently. “I need to ask you something.”
She looked up.
“Yes, sir?”
“Did your husband ever mention a little girl named Grace?”
Clara shook her head.
“No. Daniel never told me about any child.”
She hesitated.
“Although there was a photograph in his old wallet. A little girl with dark curls. He said she was his cousin's daughter.”
Vincent showed her the picture.
Clara's hand flew to her mouth.
“That's her.”
“You're certain?”
“Yes. That's the little girl in Daniel's wallet.”
Her eyes filled.
“Why would my husband have a photograph of your daughter?”
Vincent didn't have an answer.
Another message appeared.
Clara Bennett needs to know that Daniel died protecting Grace.
Clara stared at the phone.
“No.”
Vincent showed her the message.
She shook her head repeatedly.
“Daniel was a construction worker. He died when scaffolding collapsed at a building site.”
“Who identified his body?” Vincent asked.
“My husband's employer arranged everything. The police told me it was an accident.”
“Did you see him?”
Clara went silent.
Then she whispered, “No.”
Vincent waited.
“The hospital said his injuries were too severe. They told me I should remember him as he was, not as he looked afterward.”
A cold silence settled between them.
Vincent called his independent attorney, Margaret Shaw, and instructed her to investigate Daniel's death alongside Elena's disappearance.
Then he turned back to Clara.
“Your husband may have been involved in something dangerous. That doesn't mean he didn't love you.”
Clara looked down at her stomach.
“He used to tell me that if anything happened to him, I should trust the choices he'd made for our daughter.”
Vincent's expression softened.
“Did he leave you anything?”
“A small wooden box. He gave it to me on our wedding anniversary and asked me not to open it until our baby was born.”
“Where is it?”
“At my apartment.”
Before Vincent could respond, Daniel's radio crackled.
“Sir, we've received a call from Clara's building manager. Someone broke into her apartment.”
Clara stood too quickly and winced.
“My box!”
Vincent steadied her.
“Easy. We'll find it.”
Daniel continued.
“The apartment was searched. We don't know what was taken.”
Vincent's phone vibrated again.
A photograph appeared.
The wooden box sat on a metal table beside a man's hand. A gold ring bore the initials R.S.
Richard Sterling.
Below the photograph was a message.
I have the box.
Then another.
But Daniel Bennett was smarter than I thought.
A final photograph showed the box open. Inside was a folded note in Daniel's handwriting.
Vincent enlarged the image and read aloud.
“If you're reading this, Richard, you've already lost.”
He continued.
“The recording isn't in the box.”
His eyes moved to the final line.
“It's with the one person you would never suspect.”
Vincent looked at Clara.
“What did Daniel say about your daughter?”
Clara swallowed.
“He wanted to name her Grace. He said the name meant something to him, but he never explained why.”
Vincent went completely still.
His missing daughter had the same name.
Clara's unborn child had the same name.
And Daniel had chosen it long before Clara knew anything about the Moretti family.
Elena sent one more message.
Daniel knew where Grace was. Before he died, he made sure Clara would find her.
Vincent looked toward the photograph of the little girl.
His daughter was alive.
His wife was alive.
And a dead man had left behind a trail leading straight to them.
May you like
But Richard Sterling had the wooden box.
And Vincent was beginning to suspect that the man who had helped him search for Elena had spent four years ensuring they would never find each other.
