Chapter 5 - What Her Mother Had Hidden
By sunrise, Roarke’s estate had become a fortress.
No one entered.
No one left.
Adeline sat beside Posy until the little girl finally fell asleep.
When she stepped into the hallway, Roarke was waiting.
“We need to talk.”
She followed him into his study.
The photograph from the attacker lay on his desk.
“She is the key,” Adeline read again. “What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“You always know.”
“No.”
It was the first time she had heard Roarke admit ignorance.
“We searched the attacker,” he said. “No identification. Fingerprints altered chemically.”
Adeline recoiled.
“People do that?”
“People in my world do.”
“Your world keeps getting worse.”
“Yes.”
He opened a file.
“There's something else.”
Inside were copies of her employment records.
Her hospital debt.
Nursing-school transcripts.
Her mother's records.
Adeline’s expression hardened.
“You investigated me.”
“I investigated everyone around you.”
“You had no right.”
“I had every reason.”
“Not the same thing.”
Roarke accepted the criticism without argument.
Then he slid one page toward her.
“Your mother worked at Saint Catherine Medical Center for nineteen years.”
“I know.”
“She also worked privately for my family.”
Adeline froze.
“What?”
“Eleven years ago. Six months.”
“My mother never mentioned you.”
“She wasn't caring for me.”
“Then who?”
Roarke turned another page.
“My father.”
Adeline stared.
Antonio Castellano had been murdered eleven years earlier.
Even people outside organized crime knew the story.
His car had exploded outside a courthouse.
“My mother knew your father?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“He had undergone surgery secretly several months before his death. Your mother was hired as his private nurse.”
Adeline sat down.
Pieces of childhood memories returned.
Her mother leaving late.
Coming home in black cars.
Refusing to discuss one particular patient.
“I thought she was working overtime.”
“She was.”
Roarke placed another document down.
“After my father died, your mother received twenty thousand dollars.”
Adeline's head snapped up.
“No.”
“Bank records confirm it.”
“She would have used it for us.”
“She withdrew the entire amount in cash two days later.”
Adeline shook her head.
“You're suggesting my mother stole something?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I think my father gave her something to protect.”
The study door opened.
Silvio entered.
Adeline immediately stiffened.
Roarke noticed.
Silvio placed a folder on the desk.
“We identified the man who attacked the estate.”
“Who?”
“Contractor. Connected to Matteo Castellano.”
Roarke's uncle.
The owner of the private club from which the burned match had come.
Silvio looked at Adeline.
“Your mother worked for Matteo too.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Adeline stood.
“My mother was a nurse.”
“She was.”
Silvio placed a photograph on the desk.
Adeline's mother stood beside Antonio Castellano.
Behind them was another man.
Matteo.
And in her mother's hand was a small metal box.
Adeline recognized it instantly.
She had seen that box her entire childhood.
Her mother kept sewing supplies inside it.
After her death, Adeline had packed it away.
“Where is that box?” Roarke asked.
Adeline's stomach dropped.
“My apartment.”
Twenty minutes later they returned with security.
The apartment had been destroyed.
Mattress cut open.
Cabinets emptied.
Floorboards pried loose.
Adeline stood amid the wreckage of her life.
“They searched everything.”
Roarke looked at her.
“The box?”
She moved toward the kitchen.
Gone.
Then she stopped.
A memory.
Her mother kneeling beside eight-year-old Adeline.
Some things only look ordinary because ordinary things are safest.
Adeline turned.
“Posy's rabbit.”
“What?”
“Mr. Pickles.”
They rushed back to the estate.
Posy was in the breakfast room.
Adeline took the stuffed rabbit.
“Hey!”
“Sorry, baby.”
She felt along the stitching.
Nothing.
Then one ear.
Something hard.
Adeline carefully opened an old seam.
A tiny brass key fell into her palm.
Roarke stared.
Attached to it was a metal tag.
GRAND CENTRAL — 418
A locker.
They went that afternoon.
Locker 418 contained no money.
No weapon.
No ledger.
Only an envelope addressed in her mother's handwriting.
ADELINE — IF THE CASTELLANOS EVER FIND YOU, READ THIS BEFORE YOU TRUST ANY OF THEM.
Her hands began trembling.
Roarke stepped back.
“It's yours.”
She opened it.
Inside was a letter.
And one photograph.
Adeline read the first lines.
Then looked at Roarke.
“What?”
She couldn't speak.
He took one step closer.
Adeline held up the photograph.
It showed her mother standing beside Antonio Castellano.
And between them stood a young man.
Silvio.
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On the back her mother had written:
Antonio was not betrayed by an enemy. He was betrayed by the boy he raised like a son.
