Chapter 8 - The Locked Room at Moretti House
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
“My mother is dead.”
Dominic took my phone.
“You saw her body?”
“No.”
“Funeral?”
“Closed casket.”
“Cause of death?”
“Stroke.”
“Where?”
“A hospital in Arizona.”
“Were you there?”
“She was traveling.”
The questions felt brutal.
But every answer made the lie clearer.
I had received a call from a hospital.
A death certificate.
An urn.
No viewing.
No personal identification.
My mother might be alive.
Four years.
Four years of grief.
Four birthdays spent talking to a photograph.
Four Christmases setting out one ornament she had given me because I couldn't bear to stop.
I felt sick.
“Why?”
Dominic answered quietly.
“Maybe she was still protecting you.”
“By letting me bury an empty coffin?”
“We don't know.”
“I want to find her.”
“We will.”
The photograph contained clues.
A faded sign behind her.
A train station.
Rafael identified the town after several hours.
A small coastal community three states away.
But Dominic refused to leave immediately.
“Marco wants us reacting emotionally.”
“You sound like Elena.”
“I know.”
“He sent the photograph to get us out of the city.”
“Possibly.”
“So what do we do?”
“Find out why.”
That led us to a locked room in the Moretti house.
Elena's office.
Dominic had closed it after her death.
He had not entered since.
“I couldn't,” he admitted.
The door opened.
The room smelled faintly of cedar and perfume.
Books covered one wall.
A desk faced the window.
Photographs of Leo stood everywhere.
There were photographs of Dominic too.
One showed him asleep on a sofa with newborn Leo on his chest.
I smiled.
He noticed.
“Don't.”
“You look harmless.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were drooling.”
“I was tired.”
For a few seconds, the darkness lifted.
Then we found the map.
Pinned inside a cabinet.
Locations circled.
St. Agnes.
Orelio.
Thomas's home.
A coastal town.
The same town in my mother's photograph.
“She knew,” I whispered.
“Elena knew Marisol was alive.”
Dominic stared at the map.
“Then why did Rafael say she believed your mother was dead?”
“Maybe she didn't trust him with that.”
A folder contained Elena's notes.
One sentence was underlined.
Marisol staged her death after Marco's people found her.
I sat down.
Dominic kept reading.
She refuses to contact Elina because she believes Marco watches her daughter.
My eyes filled.
“She was protecting me.”
“Yes.”
“For four years.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Dominic.
“I thought she abandoned me.”
“She didn't.”
“Neither did Elena.”
“No.”
Every woman in my family had been disappearing in order to protect someone else.
I suddenly hated secrecy.
“I don't want to live like this.”
“You won't.”
“How can you promise that?”
“I don't know.”
That honesty meant more than reassurance.
He sat across from me.
“We find Marisol. We give investigators everything. We end Marco's leverage.”
“And after?”
“You decide.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Can you walk away from the world Elena was afraid of?”
Dominic's expression changed.
“I don't know.”
At least he didn't lie.
Leo cried upstairs.
I smiled sadly.
“He's awake.”
Dominic sighed.
“Your biggest enemy.”
“My son has excellent judgment.”
When we entered the nursery, Leo reached for me.
Dominic shook his head.
“Every time.”
I took him.
He patted my cheek.
I kissed his forehead.
Dominic watched quietly.
“I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“You are not Elena.”
I stiffened.
“I know.”
“No. I mean I know.”
He stepped closer.
“When I look at you, sometimes it hurts because your face reminds me of her.”
I looked away.
“But you aren't her.”
He continued.
“You talk more.”
I stared.
“Excuse me?”
“You argue more.”
“Dominic.”
“You make jokes when you're scared.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“You're impossible.”
“Elena used to walk away when she was angry. You move closer.”
I realized I had moved closer.
He almost smiled.
“My point is, Leo may not understand the difference yet.”
“And you?”
“I do.”
Something in the room shifted.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Recognition.
Two grieving people realizing they were speaking to the living rather than the dead.
The next morning, we planned the trip to the coast.
But before leaving, Dominic received confirmation from investigators.
The evidence against Marco was substantial.
They were preparing warrants.
For the first time, relief seemed possible.
Then Rafael entered the room.
“There's a problem.”
“What?”
“Marco disappeared.”
Dominic stood.
“When?”
“Last night.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“No one knows.”
Rafael looked at me.
“But one of his vehicles was recorded heading toward the coast.”
Toward my mother.
Dominic reached for his jacket.
“We leave now.”
Leo began fussing.
I looked down at him.
A terrible thought entered my mind.
“Dominic.”
He stopped.
“If Marco knows my mother is alive, why send me her picture?”
His expression darkened.
“Because he wants you to find her.”
The realization settled around us.
We weren't searching for Marisol.
We were being used to lead Marco to her.
May you like
And somewhere three states away, my mother had no idea her daughters' past was racing toward her again.
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