Chapter 7 - The Woman in the Burning Photograph
Lena didn't speak for several seconds.
Then she laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was screaming.
“That's impossible.”
Vincent stood across from her in the kitchen.
“Everett claims someone ordered him to poison the sauce, but the original plan was to have you taste it during preparation.”
Lena remembered.
At six o'clock, Everett had insisted she sample the finished sauce.
She had refused because she was preparing dessert.
He had become irritated.
She remembered thinking his reaction was excessive.
Now she understood.
“He wanted me to eat it.”
Vincent nodded.
“And when you didn't, someone redirected the contaminated sauce to my plate.”
“Why?”
“To make your death look accidental if you tasted it—or make you look responsible if I did.”
Lena gripped the counter.
“So whoever planned this wanted both of us destroyed.”
Vincent's expression darkened.
“Yes.”
The next morning, an investigator arrived with preliminary toxicology results.
The substance in the sauce appeared to contain a concentrated botanical toxin related to a compound once studied at Blackthorn Research.
The laboratory needed additional testing to establish its exact composition.
But the connection was unmistakable.
Lena sat silently as Vincent read the report.
Then she asked, “Did my grandmother help create it?”
“We don't know.”
“Did she hurt people?”
Vincent looked at her.
“Your grandmother saved you. Whatever happened at Blackthorn, don't forget that.”
Lena wanted to believe him.
But the photograph had changed everything.
She no longer knew who she was.
And she feared that finding out might destroy the only good memories she had left.
Later that afternoon, Marcus brought an elderly woman to the estate.
Her name was Dr. Eleanor Whitcomb.
She had worked at Blackthorn Research alongside Margaret Brooks.
Lena recognized her immediately.
Not from memory.
From the photograph.
Dr. Whitcomb stood near the laboratory entrance, younger and smiling.
Now she was seventy-three, with silver hair and a walking cane.
When she saw Lena, she began crying.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Lena froze.
“Do I know you?”
Dr. Whitcomb pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.
“You look so much like your mother.”
Lena felt the room tilt.
“My mother?”
The older woman nodded.
“Your birth mother.”
Vincent guided Lena into a chair.
Dr. Whitcomb sat opposite her.
For several moments, she struggled to speak.
Then she began.
“Your name was originally Elena Marlowe.”
Lena stared.
“Elena?”
“Your parents were Dr. Daniel Marlowe and Dr. Rebecca Marlowe. They were researchers at Blackthorn.”
“What happened to them?”
Dr. Whitcomb lowered her eyes.
“Your father discovered that the company was secretly developing compounds for illegal buyers. He wanted to report everything.”
“And my mother?”
“She helped him collect evidence.”
Lena felt tears gathering.
“Did they die in the fire?”
Dr. Whitcomb nodded.
“Your father died inside the laboratory. Your mother survived long enough to get you out.”
Lena covered her mouth.
“Grandma Margaret?”
“She was your mother's closest friend. Rebecca begged her to take you somewhere safe.”
Vincent stood motionless.
Dr. Whitcomb continued.
“Margaret changed your identity. She told everyone you were her granddaughter.”
“And Sophie?”
“Margaret adopted her years later. Sophie was the daughter of a distant relative who couldn't care for her. You became sisters in every way that mattered.”
Lena began crying.
Not quietly.
Not elegantly.
The grief came from somewhere deeper than memory.
She had spent her life mourning parents she believed died in a car accident.
Now she was learning they had been murdered.
Vincent knelt beside her.
He didn't speak.
He simply held her hand.
After several minutes, Lena looked toward Dr. Whitcomb.
“Who started the fire?”
The older woman hesitated.
“That's what Margaret spent years trying to prove.”
“Who?”
Dr. Whitcomb looked at Vincent.
“Your father suspected Nathan Calder.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
The words seemed to strike him physically.
Dr. Whitcomb continued.
“Nathan had been diverting research funds into an illegal pharmaceutical network. When Daniel Marlowe and Vincent's father discovered it, they planned to expose him.”
Lena whispered, “So Nathan killed them?”
“We suspected it. We never had enough evidence.”
Vincent looked toward the metal box.
“What about these documents?”
“Margaret preserved copies. But the most important evidence was missing.”
“What evidence?”
Dr. Whitcomb's hands trembled.
“A recording.”
Lena leaned forward.
“Of what?”
“A meeting between Nathan and the men who ordered the fire.”
Vincent stared at her.
“Where is it?”
“Margaret hid it.”
Lena thought of the flash drive from the farmhouse.
Marcus had sent it to a specialist because the files were encrypted.
“Could it be on the drive?” she asked.
Dr. Whitcomb nodded.
“Possibly.”
At that moment, Marcus entered.
“We accessed the first folder.”
Vincent stood.
“What did you find?”
“Financial records. Video files. And one audio recording.”
Lena felt her heart racing.
“Play it.”
Marcus connected the drive to the study computer.
A recording began.
At first, there was static.
Then a man's voice.
Young.
Cold.
Familiar.
Nathan Calder.
“If Vincent's father keeps digging, he'll bring us all down.”
Another voice responded.
“What about the researchers?”
Nathan laughed.
“Accidents happen.”
Lena covered her mouth.
Then came a woman's voice.
Rebecca Marlowe.
“You can't bury this forever.”
Nathan replied with a sentence that made Vincent's blood turn cold.
“Watch me.”
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Then Marcus's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
And turned pale.
“Sir, someone has entered the east wing.”
Vincent looked toward Lena.
The east wing contained her bedroom.
And the guards assigned to protect her.
Marcus continued.
“The security cameras are offline.”
A scream echoed from upstairs.
Vincent drew his weapon.
“Lena, stay here.”
May you like
But Lena was already running.
Because the scream had sounded exactly like Sophie's.
