Chapter 8 - The Woman in the Red Coat
There are questions you never expect anyone to ask.
Are you sure your mother is dead?
That was one.
I remembered the funeral.
Rain.
Black umbrellas.
My father gripping my shoulder.
My little sister Emily crying.
A closed casket because the accident had supposedly been severe.
“Her car went off a bridge.”
Mateo asked quietly, “Did you see her body?”
I hated the question.
“No.”
“Death certificate?”
“My father had one.”
“Insurance?”
“I was twelve!”
Mateo nodded.
“I know.”
I paced.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“You actually think my mother might be alive?”
“I think someone wants you questioning it.”
“Why?”
“To make you emotional.”
“Well, congratulations to them.”
Luca researched the records.
My mother, Caroline Jenkins, officially died fourteen years earlier after her car entered the Des Plaines River.
Vehicle recovered.
Body reportedly recovered.
Identification made through dental records.
Except Luca found something.
The dental clinic listed on the report had closed eight months before the accident.
My legs gave out.
Mateo caught me.
“No.”
“Harper.”
“No.”
We drove to Milwaukee the next morning to see Emily.
My sister opened her apartment door and stared at Mateo.
Then at me.
Then back at Mateo.
“Harper.”
“Hi.”
“Why is Mateo Valente standing outside my apartment?”
“I’ll explain.”
“You have thirty seconds.”
Inside, Emily listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she opened a bottle of wine.
At eleven in the morning.
“Reasonable,” I said.
She filled two glasses.
Then looked at Mateo.
“You?”
“No.”
“Of course not. You probably drink orphan tears.”
“Emily!”
Mateo almost smiled.
My sister became serious.
“There’s something you should know.”
My heart sank.
“Why does everyone suddenly have something I should know?”
“Dad made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“When he died, I found a letter.”
“You never told me?”
“He specifically said not to unless someone asked about Mom.”
Mateo and I exchanged a look.
Emily retrieved an envelope from a locked box.
My father’s handwriting covered the front.
EMILY—IF THEY EVER COME FOR HARPER, GIVE HER THIS.
My hands shook.
Inside was an address.
No explanation.
A small town outside Madison.
Two hours later, we stood outside a cottage surrounded by maple trees.
Mateo’s security checked the property.
I walked to the door.
Knocked.
Footsteps.
The door opened.
A woman stood there.
Late fifties.
Gray-blonde hair.
Blue eyes.
My eyes.
The world stopped.
She whispered:
“Harper.”
I couldn’t breathe.
My mother.
Alive.
I slapped her.
Hard.
Mateo’s security men looked shocked.
My mother didn’t.
She touched her cheek.
“I deserved that.”
“You let us bury you!”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“For fourteen years?”
“I couldn’t come back.”
“Why?”
She looked past me.
At Mateo.
Her face changed.
“You’re Elena’s son.”
Mateo stepped forward.
“You knew my mother?”
Caroline Jenkins began crying.
“Oh, Mateo.”
His face hardened.
“What?”
“She didn’t die from an illness.”
Mateo went completely still.
Every biography said Elena Valente had died after a long private battle with cancer.
My mother shook her head.
“She was poisoned.”
The silence was enormous.
Mateo’s voice became barely audible.
“By who?”
Caroline looked between us.
“Dominic.”
I watched something fracture behind Mateo’s eyes.
But my mother wasn’t finished.
“Your mother discovered what Dominic and Anthony Caruso were doing.”
“She tried to expose them?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She came to your father.”
Mateo frowned.
“My father was already dead.”
“Not your father.”
Caroline looked at me.
“Robert.”
My dad.
I stared.
“My father knew Mateo’s mother?”
“They were helping each other.”
Mateo gripped the edge of a chair.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Because Elena made Robert promise to protect you.”
He laughed once.
No humor.
“Protect me?”
“She knew what you would do.”
Mateo went quiet.
Caroline approached him.
“She knew you would go after Dominic and die trying.”
Mateo looked away.
My mother touched my hand.
“Robert and I entered witness protection.”
“What?”
“Only temporarily. Then someone inside the program leaked our location.”
“So you disappeared.”
“I had to.”
“And Dad stayed?”
Her face broke.
“Robert refused to leave you girls.”
My eyes filled.
“He chose us.”
“Every time.”
“Then why did he tell us you were dead?”
“Because if you believed it, the people watching you would believe it.”
I pulled my hand away.
“You could have contacted us later.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
My heart stopped.
“Before Dad died?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I called him.”
She looked toward the window.
“He said Dominic had found the manifests.”
Mateo inhaled.
“Then Robert died.”
Caroline nodded.
My grief turned into anger so quickly it frightened me.
“I want Dominic.”
Mateo looked at me.
“No.”
“He killed my father.”
“Harper.”
“He killed your mother!”
“That is exactly why you are not going near him.”
I stared.
“What happened to your rule about telling the truth?”
“This is the truth: revenge destroys the person carrying it.”
“Interesting lesson coming from you.”
His face tightened.
Before he could answer, one of his guards entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“There’s a vehicle outside.”
Mateo moved toward the window.
A black sedan waited near the road.
Beside it stood a woman.
Red coat.
Dark sunglasses.
My mother gasped.
Mateo whispered one name.
“Isabella.”
“Who?”
He stared through the glass.
“Dominic’s daughter.”
The woman removed her sunglasses.
Then raised a phone.
Mine rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Isabella Valente said:
May you like
“If you want Dominic, Harper, come outside.”
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