Chapter 4 - The Questions She Couldn’t Answer
Saraphina called again.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
“Send someone.”
Elias was already giving orders.
“I want eyes on the house. Local contacts only. Nobody tied to European operations.”
Matteo moved quickly.
Saraphina followed him.
“I’m going.”
Elias blocked the doorway.
“No.”
“That is my mother.”
“Which is exactly why you’re staying here.”
“You don’t decide that.”
“Tonight I do.”
Saraphina shoved his chest.
The guards reacted.
Elias raised one hand.
Nobody moved.
“You think you can lock me away every time you’re afraid?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes widened.
At least he was honest.
Elias lowered his voice.
“Someone entered her house minutes after she mentioned my mother. That means this is active.”
“She could be hurt.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know anything.”
His expression tightened.
“I know exactly what it feels like to wonder whether someone you love is alive.”
The room became still.
Saraphina stepped back.
For the first time, they were not captor and prisoner.
They were two terrified people looking at the same door.
Waiting.
Twenty-six minutes later, Matteo returned.
“House is empty.”
Saraphina went pale.
“Blood?”
“No.”
“Signs of struggle?”
“Minor.”
“Minor?”
“Kitchen chair overturned. Back door damaged.”
Her hands shook.
Elias noticed.
“Anything else?”
Matteo held up a photograph sent by their contact.
A symbol had been drawn on Jacqueline’s kitchen wall.
A circle split by three vertical lines.
Elias’s face lost color.
Saraphina saw it.
“You know that.”
He did.
It had been painted beneath the bridge where his mother’s wrecked car was discovered.
He had been nine.
He had never forgotten it.
“It’s a warning.”
“From who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
Saraphina laughed bitterly.
“The great Elias doesn’t know who ruined his childhood.”
His eyes hardened.
“Be careful.”
“With what? Your feelings?”
He moved closer.
For one second they stood inches apart.
Then Saraphina saw something behind the anger.
Pain.
She lowered her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
Elias looked away.
“I don’t need your apology.”
“No. You need answers.”
“So do you.”
That became their agreement.
Not trust.
Not friendship.
Answers.
The next morning, Elias brought Saraphina to his private archive.
The room was concealed behind shelving in the mansion library.
Inside were decades of documents.
Photographs.
Newspaper clippings.
Police reports.
Saraphina stared.
“You’ve been investigating the accident.”
“For twenty-one years.”
“And found nothing?”
“I found too much.”
He spread documents across a table.
The official report said mechanical failure.
A private investigator said sabotage.
A witness claimed another vehicle had forced the car off the road.
The witness disappeared.
A mechanic who inspected the car drowned three months later.
A police captain retired unexpectedly and moved to Argentina.
Every road ended.
Until Saraphina.
She touched a newspaper photograph.
Elias’s mother smiled beside three children.
Saraphina’s fingers trembled.
“I’ve seen this necklace.”
Elias looked up.
“What?”
She pointed to the pendant around his mother’s neck.
A small gold sun.
“My mother has it.”
Everything stopped.
“You’re sure?”
“She keeps it in a wooden box.”
Elias grabbed his phone.
Saraphina caught his wrist.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her hand.
She released him.
“If whoever took her knows about the necklace, calling people in Jamaica may put her in more danger.”
Elias stared at Saraphina.
She was thinking like him now.
He did not like that.
Because it meant fear was teaching her quickly.
“What else is in the box?”
“A ribbon. Old photographs I was never allowed to touch. A key.”
“What kind?”
“Small. Brass.”
Elias closed his eyes.
His mother had owned a brass key.
One that opened a private deposit box in Geneva.
It had disappeared after her death.
“We’re going to Switzerland.”
Saraphina stared.
“What?”
“If Jacqueline has that key, she was connected to my mother.”
“And my mother?”
“We find what the key opens, we may find who took her.”
Saraphina looked at the documents.
Then at Elias.
“You expect me to travel with the man who abducted me two days ago?”
“Yes.”
“You really are insane.”
“Probably.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then a guard rushed inside.
“Sir.”
Elias turned.
“We recovered footage from Kingston.”
A tablet was placed on the desk.
The camera image was grainy.
A car parked outside Jacqueline’s home.
Two men entered.
Eleven minutes later, Jacqueline exited between them.
Alive.
Saraphina covered her mouth.
Then a third figure stepped from the car.
An older woman.
Silver hair.
Elegant coat.
She turned toward the camera for only a second.
Elias stopped breathing.
Saraphina looked at him.
“You know her?”
His voice came out almost inaudible.
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Elias stared at a woman he had attended a funeral for eighteen years earlier.
“My aunt.”
May you like
The dead had just begun walking back into Elias’s life.
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