Chapter 8 - The Mother Who Never Died
Alex did not believe him.
Not at first.
Her mother, Elizabeth Carter, had supposedly died in a private rehabilitation facility in Vermont two years after Thomas Carter’s accident.
Alex had been eighteen.
There had been a funeral.
An urn.
Documents.
Everything.
Martin sent a photograph.
A woman sat beside a window holding that morning’s newspaper.
Older.
Thin.
Gray threaded through brown hair.
But Alex knew those eyes.
Her mother’s eyes.
The phone slipped from her hand.
Roman caught it.
“No.”
Alex stood so quickly the hospital monitor alarmed.
“No, no, no.”
Roman disconnected the leads.
“Alex.”
“Eighteen years.”
“I know.”
“She was alive.”
“We don’t know what condition—”
“Eighteen years!”
Her voice broke.
Roman held her.
Alex resisted for one second.
Then collapsed against him.
She had spent half her life believing herself orphaned.
Birthdays alone.
Graduation with an empty chair.
Her first major appraisal.
Every Christmas.
Every moment she had needed a mother.
Someone had stolen all of it.
Martin called again.
Roman answered.
“Ellison.”
Martin laughed.
“Giovanni’s son.”
“Tell me where Elizabeth is.”
“Bring me Thomas’s notebook.”
Roman looked at Alex.
“No.”
Martin’s voice cooled.
“Then she dies before sunset.”
The call ended.
Alex wiped her tears.
“We’re going.”
Roman stared at her.
“It’s a trap.”
“Obviously.”
“You’re not going.”
“She is my mother.”
“And you’re the leverage.”
Alex stepped closer.
“Roman.”
“No.”
“Would you have stayed behind if it were your father?”
That ended the argument.
They devised another plan.
The notebook Martin wanted was copied.
The original went to federal investigators through Roman’s attorney.
So did Melissa’s drive.
Roman contacted a federal prosecutor his father had once trusted.
By noon, the government had enough evidence to begin unraveling the entire network.
But Alex still had to get her mother.
Martin chose an abandoned private museum north of Manhattan.
Alex arrived carrying the notebook.
Roman was nowhere visible.
That was the agreement.
Martin stood beneath a massive skylight.
Sixty-eight years old.
Silver hair.
Perfect suit.
The man who had hugged Alex after her first major sale.
“Alexandra.”
“Where is she?”
“Still impatient.”
“My mother.”
Martin gestured.
A door opened.
Elizabeth Carter stepped out.
Alex forgot how to breathe.
Her mother stared at her.
Then covered her mouth.
“Alex?”
One word.
Eighteen years disappeared.
Alex moved forward.
Martin’s man raised a gun.
She stopped.
Elizabeth began crying.
“My baby.”
Alex’s eyes filled.
“Mom.”
Martin smiled.
“Touching.”
Alex wanted to kill him.
Instead, she held up the notebook.
“Let her go.”
“First the book.”
“You get it after she reaches me.”
Martin sighed.
“You were always stubborn.”
“You knew me when I was a child?”
“I knew your father before you were born.”
“Did you kill him?”
Martin’s expression barely shifted.
“Thomas became sentimental.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It is the only one you need.”
Alex understood.
“Yes.”
Her voice shook.
“You killed him.”
“He was going to destroy decades of work.”
“And my mother?”
“She knew too much.”
Elizabeth spoke.
“He kept me because he never found the ledger.”
Martin turned sharply.
Alex noticed.
“The ledger?”
Elizabeth smiled through tears.
“Your father was smarter than you.”
Martin’s calm vanished.
“Where is it?”
“I never knew.”
“You’re lying.”
“For eighteen years, Martin, you’ve asked the same question.”
Alex suddenly understood why her mother remained alive.
Martin had believed she knew where Thomas hid the final evidence.
Martin pointed the gun himself now.
“At least one Carter is going to tell me today.”
A voice came from the balcony.
“Perhaps neither.”
Roman.
Martin spun.
Roman stood above them.
Unarmed.
Or apparently unarmed.
“You.”
Martin laughed.
“Giovanni’s disappointing son.”
Roman descended slowly.
“My father would be pleased to hear that from you.”
Martin’s men appeared.
Four.
Then six.
Alex’s pulse hammered.
Roman stopped beside her.
Martin looked delighted.
“You came for a woman.”
Roman glanced at Alex.
“Yes.”
“Your father would have called that weakness.”
“No.”
Roman’s gaze stayed on Alex.
“My father died trying to protect people he loved.”
Then he looked at Martin.
“I finally understand him.”
Martin raised his weapon.
Police sirens erupted outside.
His face changed.
Alex smiled.
“The notebook wasn’t the evidence.”
Martin stared at her.
“It was the bait.”
Doors crashed open.
Federal agents flooded the building.
Martin grabbed Elizabeth.
Gun against her neck.
Alex screamed.
Roman moved.
A shot exploded.
Elizabeth fell.
Roman tackled Martin.
Agents swarmed them.
Alex dropped beside her mother.
“Mom!”
Blood covered Elizabeth’s shoulder.
Not her chest.
Alive.
She opened her eyes.
“Alex.”
“I’m here.”
Elizabeth touched her daughter’s face.
“You look exactly like him.”
Alex cried.
Her mother smiled.
Then whispered something unexpected.
“The ledger.”
“What?”
“I remembered.”
Alex leaned closer.
Elizabeth’s voice was barely audible.
“Your father hid it where he knew only you would eventually look.”
“Where?”
May you like
Her mother smiled faintly.
“In the first thing he ever taught you to recognize.”
