Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
THE VOICE ON THE PHONE SOUNDED LIKE DOMINIC'S DEAD WIFE. BUT WHEN HIS SECURITY TEAM REACHED MARCUS VALE'S APARTMENT, THEY FOUND BLOOD ON THE FLOOR—AND A PHOTOGRAPH OF EMMA TAKEN JUST THREE DAYS EARLIER.
Dominic called the number again.
Disconnected.
Again.
Nothing.
He threw his phone onto the desk.
“Caleb!”
His security chief appeared.
“Sir?”
“Marcus is in danger. Get someone to his apartment immediately.”
Caleb checked his phone.
“Two men are already nearby.”
“Tell them to move.”
Dominic paced toward the window.
He had spent four years trying not to remember Isabella's voice.
Now it was all he could hear.
Give me the phone.
Was it really her?
Or had grief made him hear what he wanted?
He couldn't decide which possibility terrified him more.
Sophie found him in the study thirty minutes later.
She knocked softly.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Dominic didn't turn.
“Is Emma asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Sophie hesitated.
“Caleb said something happened.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Do you remember Isabella?”
Sophie shook her head.
“I started working here after she died.”
Dominic nodded.
“Of course.”
“But Emma talks about her.”
He turned.
“What does she say?”
Sophie approached carefully.
“She remembers a song.”
Dominic's throat tightened.
“What song?”
“She calls it the moon song. She says her mother sang it when she was afraid of thunderstorms.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Isabella used to sing a lullaby about the moon watching over sleeping children.
Emma had been only two when her mother disappeared from her life.
He hadn't realized she remembered.
“Sophie,” he said quietly, “if Emma asks about her mother, don't tell her anything new yet.”
Sophie nodded.
“Of course.”
“Not until I know what's true.”
She studied his face.
“Do you think she's alive?”
Dominic looked toward the dark window.
“I don't know.”
At 11:06, Caleb called.
“We found Marcus's apartment.”
Dominic answered immediately.
“And?”
“Signs of a struggle. Broken furniture. Blood near the kitchen.”
“Marcus?”
“Gone.”
Dominic tightened his grip.
“Any evidence?”
“A photograph.”
Caleb sent it.
Dominic opened the image.
Emma stood outside her elementary school.
Wearing a blue backpack.
Holding Sophie's hand.
The photograph had been taken from across the street.
Three days earlier.
On the back, someone had written:
SHE HAS HER MOTHER'S EYES.
Dominic stared.
“Who took this?”
“We don't know.”
“Was Vanessa watching my daughter?”
“Possibly. But there's more.”
Caleb sent another image.
A receipt from a roadside motel.
The name on the reservation was Helen Ward.
Dominic frowned.
“Who's Helen Ward?”
“That's what we're checking.”
The motel was forty minutes from Marcus's apartment.
And according to the receipt, someone had checked in that morning.
The next day, Dominic went to the motel himself.
Caleb insisted on accompanying him.
They arrived shortly after noon.
The motel manager was nervous but cooperative.
“Room twelve,” she said. “The woman checked out early.”
“Did you see her?” Dominic asked.
“Only briefly.”
“What did she look like?”
“Dark hair. Maybe mid-thirties. Wore sunglasses.”
Dominic's pulse quickened.
“Was she alone?”
The manager hesitated.
“No.”
“Who was with her?”
“A man. Older. Looked sick.”
“Marcus?”
Dominic showed her the photograph.
She nodded.
“That's him.”
Caleb leaned forward.
“Did they leave together?”
“No. The man left first.”
“And the woman?”
The manager looked uncomfortable.
“She asked me whether the security cameras worked.”
Dominic exchanged a glance with Caleb.
“What did you tell her?”
“That the camera near the back exit had been broken for weeks.”
The manager swallowed.
“She seemed relieved.”
Inside room twelve, everything had been cleaned.
Fresh sheets.
New towels.
An empty wastebasket.
But Dominic noticed something beneath the bedside table.
A small silver earring.
He crouched.
Picked it up.
His hands began to shake.
A tiny crescent moon.
Isabella had owned a pair exactly like it.
He had given them to her on their first wedding anniversary.
Caleb noticed his expression.
“Sir?”
Dominic held out the earring.
“This belonged to my wife.”
Caleb examined it.
“Are you certain?”
“I'm certain I bought it.”
He turned it over.
A small scratch marked the back.
Isabella had damaged it while trying to repair the clasp.
Dominic remembered teasing her about it.
He remembered her laughing.
Then he remembered the funeral.
She had been buried wearing both earrings.
Or so he'd been told.
Back at the mansion, Sophie was helping Emma draw pictures.
The little girl had drawn three people.
A tall man.
A small girl.
And a woman in a black-and-white dress.
Dominic stopped.
“Who's that?”
Emma smiled.
“You, me, and Sophie.”
Dominic knelt beside her.
“It's beautiful.”
Emma pointed at the woman's hair.
“I made Sophie's hair brown.”
“Looks just like her.”
Emma nodded proudly.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Can Sophie be in our family?”
Dominic looked at the maid.
Sophie flushed.
“Emma—”
“I mean really,” Emma insisted. “So nobody can make her leave.”
Dominic brushed his daughter's hair back.
“Sophie is very important to us.”
Emma considered that.
“Then why doesn't she eat dinner with us?”
Dominic had no answer.
Sophie looked down.
“Because I work here, sweetheart.”
Emma frowned.
“But you eat with people you love.”
The room went quiet.
Dominic looked at Sophie.
“She's right about one thing.”
Sophie raised her eyes.
“Sir?”
“You shouldn't have to eat alone.”
That evening, Dominic invited Sophie to sit with them for dinner.
She resisted.
He insisted.
Emma was delighted.
For the first time in months, the dining room filled with laughter.
Then Caleb entered.
His face was grim.
“Dominic. We identified Helen Ward.”
Dominic set down his fork.
“Who is she?”
Caleb glanced toward Emma.
“Can we speak privately?”
Dominic looked at Sophie.
“Please stay with her.”
He followed Caleb into the hallway.
Caleb showed him a driver's license photograph.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
A face altered by age and weight loss.
But unmistakable.
Dominic gripped the edge of the phone.
ISABELLA MORETTI.
“She used the identity Helen Ward,” Caleb said. “The license was issued three years ago.”
Dominic couldn't speak.
Then Caleb delivered the second discovery.
“We traced the payment for that motel.”
“Who paid?”
“Sterling Family Holdings.”
Dominic stared at him.
Vanessa's company.
Caleb swallowed.
“And Dominic… the room was booked under an account created four years ago.”
Dominic's voice turned cold.
“Four years?”
Caleb nodded.
May you like
“Three weeks before Isabella's accident.”
END OF CHAPTER 4
