Chapter 6 - The Price of a Lie
Anna walked out of the police station at six seventeen in the morning.
She had not cried during the interview.
She had not cried when Detective Mercer showed her the photograph.
She had not cried when Olivia explained that the hospital records would need to be independently verified before anyone could establish whether the missing woman was truly Caroline Harding.
But when she saw Elias waiting beside the Lincoln, something inside her snapped.
She crossed the sidewalk.
"Did you know she was alive?"
Elias straightened.
"Anna—"
"Answer me."
Marco stepped away from the car.
Elias raised one hand, signaling him to remain where he was.
"I knew there was a possibility."
Anna took the photograph from her coat pocket.
She had been given a copy through Olivia.
"Then explain this."
Elias studied the image.
His face changed.
Anna watched carefully.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"You've seen that lighter before," she said.
"It's mine."
"Why was it beside my mother's hospital bed?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
Elias looked toward the police station.
"Let's talk somewhere private."
"No."
Her voice rose.
"Every time I ask you a question, you take me somewhere private. Every time you tell me something, there's another secret behind it."
He looked back at her.
"You're right."
Anna almost laughed.
"Stop agreeing with me and start telling me the truth."
For several seconds, Elias said nothing.
Then he spoke.
"Four months ago, I located a woman who might have been your mother. She was living under the name Catherine Bell at a private rehabilitation facility."
Anna's throat tightened.
"You found her?"
"I found records suggesting she was there."
"Did you meet her?"
"Once."
The world seemed to tilt.
Anna stared at him.
"You met my mother?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"She asked me not to."
"Why?"
"Because she believed contacting you would put you in danger."
Anna stepped backward.
"That's what everyone keeps saying."
"Because it's what she believed."
"What did she look like?"
Elias's expression softened.
"She looked tired. Frightened. But she had your eyes."
Anna turned away.
Cars passed through the wet morning streets.
A delivery truck rumbled over a pothole.
Somewhere nearby, a man was opening a coffee shop.
Ordinary people were beginning ordinary days.
And Anna had just learned that the mother she had buried twenty years earlier had been alive four months ago.
She turned back.
"Did she ask about me?"
Elias swallowed.
"Yes."
"What did she ask?"
"Whether you were happy."
Anna pressed her lips together.
"And what did you say?"
"I told her you worked at your father's bakery. That you were stubborn. That you made terrible coffee when you were distracted."
A broken laugh escaped Anna.
Her father used to say exactly that.
"Anything else?"
Elias hesitated.
"I told her Thomas was proud of you."
Anna's eyes filled.
For a moment, the anger loosened.
Then she remembered the photograph.
"The lighter."
Elias looked at it again.
"I left it with Caroline when we met."
"Why?"
"She was frightened. She wanted something that would prove I had come back if someone claimed to be acting for me."
"Then why would it be in a hospital photograph taken yesterday?"
"I don't know."
Anna searched his face.
"Who is Victor Sloane to you?"
The question struck harder than she expected.
Elias's expression closed.
"He used to be my employer."
Anna went still.
"You worked for him?"
"Years ago."
"Doing what?"
"Things I'm not proud of."
"Did you hurt people?"
Elias did not answer immediately.
"Yes."
The word landed between them.
Anna felt sick.
"Did you hurt my family?"
"No."
"Can you prove that?"
"Not yet."
She looked toward Olivia, who had followed her outside.
"I don't want to go with him."
Olivia nodded.
"You don't have to."
Elias stepped aside.
Anna expected him to argue.
He didn't.
"Olivia has arranged a hotel under your name," he said. "I've covered the first two nights through her office. After that, you can decide whether to accept anything else."
"I don't want your money."
"Then consider it a loan."
Anna shook her head.
"No. I want the truth."
She climbed into Olivia's waiting car.
As they pulled away, she looked through the rear window.
Elias remained standing beside the Lincoln.
For the first time, he looked less like a dangerous man.
And more like a man who had just lost something he hadn't realized he wanted.
At nine that morning, Beatrice Harding entered the offices of SunCorp Developers.
Victor Sloane was waiting.
He was sixty-one, silver-haired, and dressed in a charcoal suit that made him look like a respected banker.
His eyes were another matter.
"You were supposed to secure the building quietly," he said.
Beatrice placed her handbag on the desk.
"I did."
"Then explain why Romano's people were inside the warehouse."
Beatrice stiffened.
"How would I know?"
Victor rose.
"Because you assured me Thomas Harding left no records."
"He was dying."
"Apparently not quickly enough to stop keeping notes."
Beatrice looked away.
Victor approached.
"Where is the key?"
"I don't have it."
"Does the girl?"
"I don't know."
Victor seized her wrist.
Beatrice gasped.
"Listen carefully. Thomas spent twenty years hiding evidence that could destroy people far more important than me."
"You're hurting me."
"Then give me a reason to stop."
She struggled.
"Anna has the key. I saw the chain around her neck."
Victor released her.
His expression changed.
"Then why is she still walking around Boston?"
Beatrice stared at him.
"She's my stepdaughter."
Victor laughed.
"Since when has that mattered?"
For the first time, genuine fear crossed her face.
"You promised nobody would be hurt."
"I promised you'd be rich."
He returned to his desk.
"Those are different things."
Beatrice rubbed her wrist.
"What about Caroline?"
Victor stopped smiling.
"What about her?"
"You said she'd be moved somewhere safe."
"She has been."
"Where?"
"Somewhere she can't interfere."
Beatrice's face drained of color.
Victor watched her.
"You're becoming sentimental."
"No."
"Good."
He opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph of Anna entering the hotel with Olivia.
Victor slid it across the desk.
"Your stepdaughter is getting help from a lawyer."
Beatrice stared.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Convince her that Romano is the enemy."
"And if she doesn't believe me?"
Victor leaned forward.
"Then I'll convince her myself."
That afternoon, Anna met Olivia in a conference room at the hotel.
The attorney had spent hours reviewing the documents recovered from Thomas's cabinet.
"There are irregularities in the trust records," Olivia said.
Anna sat forward.
"What kind?"
"The copy Beatrice's attorney presented may not match the original trust agreement."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning she may not have had authority to sell the property at all."
Hope surged through Anna.
"Can we stop the demolition?"
"I've filed for emergency injunctive relief. We have a hearing tomorrow morning."
Anna exhaled.
"Thank God."
"Don't celebrate yet. The court needs evidence."
Olivia placed another document on the table.
"This is more concerning."
Anna looked down.
It was a medical billing statement.
Her father's name appeared at the top.
But the charges were unfamiliar.
Private nursing.
Specialized medication.
Long-term residential care.
Over $200,000.
"These aren't Dad's treatments," Anna said.
Olivia nodded.
"The dates overlap with his hospice care, but the provider information points to a separate facility."
Anna stared.
"Whose treatments were they?"
"We don't know yet."
Anna's phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
She answered.
"Hello?"
For several seconds, she heard only breathing.
Then a woman's voice whispered.
"Anna?"
Her heart stopped.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
"Sweetheart."
Anna stood.
Her chair fell backward.
"Mom?"
The woman began crying.
"Listen carefully. You cannot trust Victor."
"Where are you?"
"There's something you need to know about your father."
Anna gripped the phone.
"Please. Just tell me where you are."
A door slammed in the background.
The woman gasped.
Then hurried footsteps.
"Anna, the man who saved you when you were little—"
The connection crackled.
"Mom?"
"—wasn't Thomas."
Anna froze.
"What?"
The woman whispered one final sentence.
May you like
"Ask Elias what happened at Pier Nine."
Then the call ended.
