Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Remembered Too Much
Maeve had spent years wishing her mother could remember.
Now she was terrified Colleen Sullivan might remember the one thing that could get her killed.
Gabriel insisted they involve the police.
Emmett agreed.
But Maeve barely heard them.
She was staring at her phone, replaying the stranger's voice.
Your mother is a lovely woman.
It was the kind of sentence people used when they wanted to sound civilized while doing something monstrous.
A detective arrived within twenty minutes.
Her name was Elena Vasquez.
She was in her early forties, with sharp eyes and the calm manner of someone who had learned that frightened witnesses rarely needed louder voices.
Maeve explained everything.
The threatening photograph.
Danny's disappearance.
Isabella's call.
The stranger answering her mother's phone.
Vasquez listened without interrupting.
Then she asked, “Where is your mother supposed to be right now?”
“With Mrs. Alvarez, our neighbor. She checks on her when I'm working.”
“Have you contacted Mrs. Alvarez?”
“No. Someone answered her phone.”
Vasquez nodded.
“We're sending officers.”
Maeve shook her head.
“Whoever has her might hurt her.”
“That's why we're going carefully.”
Emmett spoke from the bed.
“Detective, Warren Castellano has resources. Money. Connections.”
Vasquez looked at him.
“So do the police.”
Emmett almost smiled.
“Fair enough.”
An hour later, officers entered Maeve's apartment building.
They found Mrs. Alvarez unconscious but breathing in the hallway.
Colleen Sullivan was gone.
Maeve broke down when Vasquez delivered the news.
Gabriel caught her before she fell.
For a moment, she couldn't remember how to breathe.
Her brother was missing.
Her mother had been abducted.
And the only man offering to help was the head of the criminal family connected to her father's death.
Emmett watched her from the bed.
Then he made a decision.
“Gabriel.”
“Yes, boss?”
“Get my mother’s old safe-deposit records.”
Mercer frowned.
“Emmett?”
“Isabella said Brendan sent something home. Maybe he didn't send it to his own home.”
Maeve looked up.
“What do you mean?”
Emmett's expression darkened.
“My mother knew Brendan Sullivan.”
The room fell silent.
“Your mother?” Maeve whispered.
“Her name was Eleanor Castellano. She managed the family's charitable foundation. Brendan helped her investigate the warehouse accounts.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know how much she knew.”
Mercer looked troubled.
“Eleanor died eleven years ago.”
Emmett nodded.
“After a stroke.”
Maeve remembered Bridget's words.
I couldn't save his mother.
A chill moved through her.
“Emmett.”
He looked at her.
“Bridget told me something strange.”
“What?”
“She said she couldn't save your mother.”
His face changed.
“Those exact words?”
“Yes.”
He reached for his phone.
“Call Bridget.”
Gabriel dialed.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Then Mercer received a message.
He read it.
His expression tightened.
“What?” Emmett demanded.
Mercer looked up.
“Bridget Halloran was found unconscious at the mansion.”
Maeve covered her mouth.
“Is she alive?”
“Barely. Paramedics are transporting her.”
Emmett closed his eyes.
Warren was eliminating witnesses.
One by one.
Vasquez stepped outside to coordinate with other officers.
When she returned, her expression was grave.
“We've located a vehicle associated with the woman who took Danny.”
Maeve stood.
“Where?”
“Near an abandoned convent outside Salem.”
“Is he there?”
“We don't know yet.”
Maeve turned toward Gabriel.
“Take me.”
Vasquez intervened.
“Absolutely not. We need to secure the location first.”
“But he's seven!”
“And I want him home safely.”
Maeve sank into the chair.
The next forty minutes were unbearable.
Then Vasquez's radio crackled.
Officers had entered the building.
They found food wrappers.
A child's jacket.
And a handwritten note.
But no Danny.
Maeve stared at the photograph of the note when Vasquez showed it to her.
Three words.
ASK YOUR MOTHER.
Emmett leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
Maeve shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then her phone rang.
An unknown number.
She answered.
A familiar voice whispered, “Maeve?”
Her entire body went cold.
“Mom?”
“Sweetheart.”
Colleen Sullivan sounded frightened.
But strangely clear.
More lucid than she had been in months.
“Mom, where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No. But listen.”
Maeve pressed the phone tightly against her ear.
“I'm listening.”
Colleen began crying.
“Your father didn't die because of the fire.”
Maeve stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He went back inside because someone was trapped.”
“Who?”
Colleen sobbed.
“A little girl.”
Maeve looked at Emmett.
Her mother continued.
“Brendan saved her. He carried her out through the smoke.”
“Who was she?”
A long silence followed.
Then Colleen whispered a name.
“Isabella.”
Emmett went rigid.
Maeve could barely speak.
“Isabella Castellano?”
“Yes.”
Colleen's voice broke.
“And before your father died, he told me something about that little girl.”
“What?”
“She wasn't supposed to be in that warehouse.”
Maeve stared ahead.
“Why was she there?”
Colleen inhaled shakily.
“Because she had seen Warren kill someone.”
May you like
The call ended.
And for the first time, Emmett Castellano understood that the conspiracy against him had begun long before his accident.
