Chapter 5 - A Photograph Taken Eleven Years Ago
By sunrise, the storm had weakened.
The crisis had not.
Rain still tapped against the windows when Elias gathered everyone he trusted in the private dining room.
That list had become painfully short.
Rafael.
Bernadette.
Vincent, though Elias wasn't sure whether trust was the right word anymore.
Evelyn remained upstairs with her daughter.
Matteo oversaw external security under Rafael's supervision.
Elias placed three photographs on the table.
Rosalind and Samuel Vance.
The morgue image of Adeline.
And the surveillance photograph of the estate.
“We work backward,” Elias said.
Rafael nodded.
“From what?”
“Gabriel.”
Vincent leaned back.
“Thirteen years is a long trail.”
“Then walk quickly.”
Elias looked at Bernadette.
“What did Rosalind tell you about Gabriel's daughter?”
“Very little.”
“Everything.”
Bernadette sighed.
“Her mother was Elena Rossi.”
Elias remembered Elena.
Beautiful.
Quiet.
Studied architecture.
Gabriel had been serious about her.
Then he died.
Elena disappeared.
“Rosalind found Elena approximately seven years after Gabriel died,” Bernadette continued.
“Where?”
“A hospice outside Boston.”
“Dying?”
“Cancer.”
“Why didn't Rosalind tell me?”
“She said Elena was terrified.”
“Of me?”
“Of everyone carrying your name.”
Elias absorbed that.
“Elena believed Gabriel was killed because he discovered something connected to Samuel Vance.”
“That matches Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“She had two children?”
“Twins.”
The word stunned him.
“Michael and—”
“A girl.”
“What was her name?”
“Elena wouldn't tell Rosalind.”
“Why?”
“Because the girl had been taken.”
“By Samuel.”
“That was Elena's belief.”
Elias stood and went to the window.
A niece.
He had a niece somewhere.
Or had.
“What happened to Michael?”
“Elena managed to hide him with relatives. He grew up under another surname. His sister wasn't as fortunate.”
“How did Samuel know about them?”
Bernadette shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Vincent spoke.
“Gabriel may have told someone he trusted about the pregnancy.”
Elias turned.
“You?”
“No.”
“You were his godfather too.”
“Yes.”
“Did Gabriel tell you?”
Vincent paused.
“He told me Elena was pregnant.”
Everyone became still.
Elias's voice dropped.
“And you forgot to mention that?”
“I was trying to locate her after Gabriel died.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“You were twenty-five years old and burning half the city trying to avenge your brother. Giving you one more person to search for would have gotten Elena killed.”
Elias wanted to deny it.
Could not.
At twenty-five, grief had turned him into a weapon.
And Vincent had aimed him.
That remained the problem.
“Did you know about twins?”
“No.”
“Did you know Samuel Vance?”
“Of him.”
“Personally?”
Vincent's eyes sharpened.
“No.”
Elias believed that answer less.
Rafael entered information into a tablet.
“Elena Rossi.”
He searched archived databases.
“There are seventeen.”
“Boston hospice,” Bernadette said. “Approximately six years ago.”
Rafael filtered.
Then stopped.
“One.”
He turned the tablet.
Elena Marie Rossi.
Born 1980.
Died 2020.
Hospice record.
Next of kin listed as—
Rafael frowned.
“What?”
“The contact field was changed.”
“To whom?”
“Rosalind Falcone.”
Elias stared.
His wife had been Elena's emergency contact.
There was an attachment.
A scanned intake photograph.
Rafael opened it.
Elena appeared thin and ill, but recognizable.
In her hand was an old photograph.
Rafael enlarged it.
Two infants.
Twins.
“Can you enhance it?”
“Trying.”
The image sharpened slightly.
One infant wore a blue cap.
The other a white cap.
Between them lay a small card.
Michael & Rose.
Bernadette gasped.
“Rose.”
Elias suddenly remembered Evelyn whispering “Rosie” in the greenhouse.
Not necessarily Rosalind.
He stood so quickly the chair struck the floor.
“Bring Evelyn.”
Minutes later, Evelyn entered carrying the baby.
She looked at the photograph.
Her expression collapsed.
“No.”
“You've seen it.”
“No.”
“Look carefully.”
“I said no.”
She stepped back.
Bernadette approached gently.
“Evelyn?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“My father had that photograph.”
Silence.
“Samuel?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In his study.”
“When?”
“When I was little.”
Elias felt his pulse accelerate.
“Why would Samuel have a photograph of Gabriel's children?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“You called the roses ‘Rosie.’”
“I was talking about Rosalind.”
“Were you?”
“Yes.”
He studied her.
Evelyn looked genuinely confused.
Then her expression slowly changed.
Memory.
“When I was a child…” she whispered.
Nobody spoke.
“There was another girl in the house.”
Elias stopped breathing.
“What girl?”
“I thought she was a cousin.”
“Name?”
“They called her Rose.”
Bernadette sat down.
“How old?”
“My age.”
Michael and his twin would have been approximately the same age as Evelyn.
“Describe her.”
“Dark hair. Green eyes.”
Gabriel had green eyes.
So did Elias.
“What happened to her?”
“I don't know. She disappeared when we were about eleven.”
“Disappeared?”
“My father said she'd gone to boarding school.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I was a child.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Adeline used to tell me never to ask about Rose.”
“Why?”
“She was afraid Father would hear.”
“Did Rose know who she was?”
“I don't think so.”
Elias felt rage building.
Samuel Vance had raised Gabriel's stolen daughter under his roof.
For what purpose?
Leverage?
Protection?
Experiment?
None made sense yet.
“Do you have photographs?”
“No.”
“Anything?”
Evelyn suddenly looked toward her necklace.
She removed the chain holding Gabriel's ring.
Behind the ring was a second object.
A tiny oval locket.
“I've had this since I was twelve.”
She opened it.
Inside were two girls.
Young.
Perhaps ten or eleven.
One was clearly Evelyn.
The other—
Elias forgot the room.
The other girl had Gabriel's eyes.
Gabriel's smile.
Even as a child, the resemblance was unmistakable.
“Rose,” Evelyn whispered.
Elias took the locket carefully.
“You kept this?”
“She gave it to me.”
“When?”
“The last night I saw her.”
“What happened?”
Evelyn struggled.
“We had a fight.”
“About?”
“My father.”
“Samuel?”
“Rose said she'd heard him arguing with someone. She said she wasn't really family.”
“What else?”
“She said she found papers.”
“Where?”
“In Samuel's desk.”
Elias leaned closer.
“She wanted me and Adeline to run away with her.”
“Why didn't you?”
“We thought she was being dramatic.”
Pain crossed Evelyn's face.
“The next morning she was gone.”
Rafael typed quickly.
“If her official identity wasn't Rose Falcone, finding her will be difficult.”
“Samuel would have created documents.”
Vincent spoke.
“Not necessarily.”
Everyone looked at him.
“If he wanted to hide her, the best place is in plain sight.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Private schools. Foster networks. Foreign boarding programs.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“He didn't send her away.”
“How do you know?”
“Because three months after she disappeared, I heard her voice.”
The room froze.
“Where?”
“In the basement.”
Elias's stomach turned.
“What basement?”
“The Vance house had an old medical wing.”
Nobody spoke.
“I went downstairs at night because I heard someone crying.”
Evelyn was trembling now.
“I saw my father leaving a locked room.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me I was dreaming.”
“And you believed him?”
“No.”
“Did you go inside?”
“I tried.”
“Locked?”
“Yes.”
“What happened after?”
“My father sent me to Switzerland for school.”
“For how long?”
“Three years.”
The newborn began fussing.
Evelyn soothed her.
Elias stared at Rose's picture.
If Rose survived childhood, she would now be approximately thirty.
Somewhere.
Possibly unaware of her identity.
Possibly dead.
Possibly working for Samuel.
A phone vibrated.
Rafael checked it.
“Report from the gate.”
“What?”
“The surviving intruder is asking to speak with you.”
“Why?”
“He says he'll only talk to Elias Falcone.”
Vincent frowned.
“Don't.”
Elias looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because that's what he wants.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Elias stood.
“People often tell the truth when they believe they've arranged the conversation.”
The intruder was held in a secure basement room.
Victor Hale looked ordinary.
Mid-forties.
Brown hair.
Broken nose from the fight.
Wet clothing replaced with estate sweats.
His wrists were restrained to the table.
Elias entered alone.
Victor smiled.
“Mr. Falcone.”
“Victor.”
“You know my name.”
“I know more than you expect.”
“Good.”
Elias sat opposite him.
“Why are you here?”
“To deliver something.”
“You could've used mail.”
“Would you have believed it?”
“Probably not.”
Victor leaned forward.
“Samuel Vance isn't trying to kill the woman upstairs.”
“Then why attack my estate?”
“To test your security.”
“Expensive test.”
“He can afford it.”
“Why does he want Evelyn?”
Victor smiled wider.
“So she finally told you her real name.”
Elias's gaze hardened.
“Why?”
Victor ignored the question.
“Have you found the ledger?”
Elias said nothing.
Victor noticed.
“Rosalind always was clever.”
“Was?”
“She died three years ago.”
“You sound certain.”
“I watched it happen.”
Every muscle in Elias's body tightened.
“Where?”
Victor leaned back.
“That's not free.”
“What do you want?”
“Protection.”
“From Samuel?”
“From Rose.”
Elias stopped.
“Rose Falcone?”
For the first time, Victor's smile disappeared.
“So you found that too.”
“Where is she?”
Victor looked toward the one-way glass.
Then lowered his voice.
“You've already met her.”
Elias stared.
“When?”
Victor gave a quiet laugh.
“Eleven years ago.”
“Where?”
“At your own wedding.”
Elias felt ice move through his veins.
Victor continued.
“She stood three feet from Rosalind during the reception.”
“Who?”
“The young woman with the camera.”
Elias remembered dozens of photographers.
Assistants.
Guests.
Staff.
“I don't remember.”
“You wouldn't.”
Victor leaned forward.
“But she remembered you.”
He smiled again.
May you like
“And she's been watching you ever since.”
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