Chapter 3 - The Woman in Elise's Photograph
Naomi spent the final stretch toward Washington trying to convince herself there had to be an innocent explanation.
There wasn't.
Every time she looked at the photograph, the same uncomfortable truth remained.
It was her apartment building.
The cream-colored brick.
The narrow balcony outside the second floor.
The maple tree beside the entrance.
Even the dented green mailbox near the curb.
Someone had stood across the street months earlier and taken that photograph.
On the back was her surname.
BELL.
And Elise Vale's name.
Naomi had never met Elise.
At least, she didn't think she had.
Roman sat opposite her with Miles sleeping against his chest.
Jude lay in a carrier beside him, color restored enough that Naomi no longer had to check his breathing every few seconds.
Leo was asleep in her arms.
For the first time since Newark, the cabin was quiet.
The silence felt more threatening than the crying had.
Roman studied the photograph again.
"Think."
Naomi looked up.
"I have been thinking."
"Anyone ever approach you asking about Elise?"
"No."
"About me?"
"No."
"About Crown Street?"
"No."
"Any strange phone calls?"
"I was grieving my son. I wasn't exactly keeping a log of telemarketers."
Roman's eyes softened.
"Fair."
Victor sat near the door, scrolling through information on a tablet.
"Naomi Bell," he said. "Twenty-nine. Freelance copy editor. Previously worked for Benton House Publishing. Apartment in Baltimore. No criminal history. One parking ticket."
Naomi stared at him.
"You looked me up?"
"Of course."
"Of course?"
Victor glanced over.
"You entered the private compartment of one of the most targeted men on the East Coast and offered direct access to his children."
"When you say it like that, I sound insane."
"Pretty much."
Roman's mouth twitched.
Naomi pointed at Victor.
"Stop researching me."
"Too late."
"What else?"
Victor hesitated.
Naomi's stomach tightened.
"What else did you find?"
He looked toward Roman before answering.
"Your son."
Naomi's face went still.
Roman gave Victor a warning look.
But Naomi asked, "What about him?"
"I'm sorry."
Those two words were worse than whatever came next.
She looked down at Leo.
"Say it."
"Micah Bell. Born May fourth. Died June twenty-second."
Roman lowered his eyes.
Naomi swallowed.
"I know when my son died."
Victor's tone softened.
"I wasn't trying to—"
"Then don't."
Nobody spoke.
The train rushed through the afternoon.
Naomi concentrated on Leo's breathing.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Living.
After several minutes, Victor said quietly, "There's something else."
Roman's expression sharpened.
"About Micah?"
"No."
"Then say it."
Victor turned the tablet.
"I found Elise's charitable foundation records."
Roman frowned.
"What does that have to do with Naomi?"
"Elise visited Baltimore six times last year."
Roman looked genuinely surprised.
"For what?"
"Women's health project."
Naomi's eyes lifted.
Victor continued.
"The foundation funded a pilot program through St. Agnes Community Center."
Naomi's throat tightened.
She knew St. Agnes.
Everyone in her neighborhood did.
It wasn't a hospital.
It was a small community center attached to an old church. New mothers could attend support groups, meet nurses, get breastfeeding advice, borrow pumps, receive diapers, formula, and counseling.
Naomi had gone there.
Once.
Only once.
Three weeks after Micah was born.
She had been exhausted.
Micah wasn't gaining weight quickly enough.
Her own mother lived across the country, and Naomi had been too proud to admit how frightened she felt.
A volunteer had spent nearly an hour with her.
An elegant woman in jeans and a cream sweater.
Dark blond hair tied loosely.
Warm eyes.
No makeup.
She hadn't introduced herself as anyone important.
Naomi had assumed she worked there.
They had talked while Micah slept.
About fear.
About motherhood.
About how strange it was to love a person so much that every ordinary danger suddenly became terrifying.
Naomi's heart began pounding.
"No."
Roman leaned forward.
"What?"
Naomi closed her eyes.
"I met someone."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Describe her."
Naomi already knew.
She had seen photographs of Elise Vale in newspapers since.
But photographs of glamorous gala appearances were different from a tired woman sitting cross-legged in a community center.
Roman's voice became quieter.
"Naomi."
She looked at him.
"Blond. Mid-twenties. Maybe early thirties. Green eyes."
Roman went still.
"She had a scar?"
Naomi frowned.
"Where?"
"Right eyebrow."
Naomi remembered.
A pale line.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
"Yes."
Roman inhaled slowly.
"That was Elise."
The train seemed to disappear around them.
Naomi looked down at Leo.
"I didn't know."
"Why would she be there personally?"
Victor asked.
Roman stared out the window.
"Because Elise didn't believe writing checks counted as helping."
His voice cracked slightly.
"She liked showing up."
Naomi remembered the woman smiling at Micah.
He had been wearing a yellow sleeper.
Elise had touched one tiny sock.
"He's perfect," she'd said.
Naomi had laughed bitterly.
"Perfect babies don't scream from midnight to four."
Elise had smiled.
"Then maybe perfect is overrated."
Naomi's eyes filled.
"Oh my God."
Roman leaned forward.
"What did she say to you?"
"Nothing about you."
"Anything unusual?"
"We talked about babies."
"Anything else?"
Naomi tried to remember.
The room.
The folding chairs.
Coffee in Styrofoam cups.
A bulletin board.
Micah's little fist tangled in her shirt.
Elise asking whether Naomi had family nearby.
Naomi saying no.
Then—
"She asked my name."
Roman's eyes sharpened.
"Full name?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"They had forms."
Victor shook his head.
"Elise wouldn't need to photograph Naomi's apartment because of a form."
Roman's voice lowered.
"Something happened after."
Naomi searched her memory.
"I left before she did."
"You saw anyone outside?"
Naomi shook her head.
Then stopped.
"There was a car."
Victor leaned forward.
"What kind?"
"Black SUV."
Roman and Victor exchanged a look.
"There are millions of black SUVs," Naomi said.
"True," Victor answered. "But keep going."
"It was parked across from the center. Engine running."
"Driver?"
"I didn't see."
"Plate?"
"No."
Roman asked, "Did Elise leave with you?"
"No."
"Did someone follow you?"
"I don't know."
Victor held up the photograph.
"Someone did."
Naomi looked at the date again.
The photograph had been taken that same week.
Her stomach turned.
"Why?"
Roman rubbed his thumb slowly across his wedding ring.
"Maybe Elise gave you something."
"She didn't."
"Think."
"I am thinking."
"A phone number? Paper? Package?"
"No."
Then Naomi remembered the book.
She had brought a parenting book to the support group.
A thick paperback about newborn sleep.
Elise had picked it up.
"You read all this?" she'd asked.
Naomi had laughed.
"I'm trying."
At some point, Elise had borrowed a pen.
She had written something.
Not on paper.
Inside the book.
Naomi's pulse jumped.
"I need my bag."
Victor handed it over.
Naomi pulled out her paperback from the train.
Not the parenting book.
That book was at home.
She looked at Roman.
"She wrote something in a book."
"What?"
"I don't remember."
"Where is it?"
"My apartment."
Victor stood.
Roman held up one hand.
"Nobody goes there yet."
Naomi stared.
"It's my apartment."
"And somebody was watching it."
"Nine weeks ago."
"Which means we have no idea whether they're still watching."
Naomi's frustration boiled over.
"Stop talking about my life like it's a crime scene."
Roman's expression hardened.
"It became one when my wife's name was written on a surveillance photograph of your home."
Leo stirred.
Naomi lowered her voice.
"I didn't choose this."
Roman looked at his sons.
"Neither did they."
The statement ended the fight.
When the train finally approached Washington, Roman's security team changed the plan.
They didn't leave through the main platform.
A railroad executive apparently owed Roman a favor—or feared him enough to pretend he did. Their car was routed to a service area where a private convoy waited behind a maintenance building.
Naomi didn't ask how Roman arranged things like that.
She didn't want to know.
She was more concerned by the two black SUVs, the men wearing earpieces, and the doctor waiting in one of the vehicles.
Dr. Samira Shah was small, sharp-eyed, and completely unimpressed by Roman Vale.
She examined the babies before anyone moved.
"Dehydrated," she said.
Roman nodded.
"I know."
"No, you know because a stranger on a train noticed before you."
Roman accepted that without argument.
Dr. Shah looked at Naomi.
"You're Naomi?"
"Yes."
"The woman who fed them?"
Naomi flushed.
"Yes."
Dr. Shah's expression softened.
"You may have prevented a very bad afternoon."
Roman looked at Naomi.
She looked away.
The pediatrician checked each baby carefully.
Jude concerned her most.
"We can manage him at the house for now, but if his output doesn't improve by tonight, we're going to Children's."
Roman nodded.
"No argument."
Dr. Shah raised one eyebrow.
"Did someone replace you?"
Naomi almost laughed.
Roman didn't.
They drove away from the station.
Naomi sat in the middle SUV with Dr. Shah, three babies, and Roman.
Victor rode in front.
The city passed outside.
Naomi suddenly realized she had no idea where they were going.
"Where is your house?"
"Virginia."
"That's vague."
"Intentionally."
"I need to call someone."
"Who?"
Naomi glared at him.
"My life does contain people who aren't connected to criminal empires."
Roman's expression cooled.
"You keep assuming everything written about me is true."
"Isn't it?"
He looked out the window.
"Some of it."
That answer was somehow worse.
Naomi called her friend Tessa and said she'd been delayed.
She left Roman's name out.
She left three babies out.
She definitely left surveillance photographs out.
Tessa asked whether Naomi was okay.
Naomi looked across the vehicle.
Roman had Jude against his chest.
His hand covered most of the baby's back.
"No," Naomi answered honestly. "But I think I will be."
They arrived thirty minutes later.
Roman's "house" was not a house.
It was an estate surrounded by stone walls, cameras, gates, trees, and enough private security to defend a small country.
Naomi stared through the window.
"This is ridiculous."
Roman almost smiled.
"Welcome to my ridiculous house."
Inside, the place was quieter than she expected.
No gold statues.
No nightclub atmosphere.
Dark wood.
Large windows.
Family photographs.
Fresh flowers that were beginning to wilt.
Funeral flowers.
Everywhere.
Elise.
Her absence occupied the entire building.
Naomi entered the nursery and stopped.
Three identical cribs.
Three rocking chairs.
Stacks of diapers.
Toys.
Blankets embroidered JUDE, LEO, and MILES.
And on a shelf—
A framed photograph.
Elise holding all three newborns against her chest.
Roman stood behind her in the picture.
His face was transformed.
No guarded eyes.
No frightening reputation.
Just a husband looking at his wife like she was the only thing in the room.
Naomi turned away.
Roman stood in the nursery doorway.
"She was thirty-one."
Naomi swallowed.
"I'm sorry."
"Car accident."
There was something in the way he said it.
Naomi looked back.
"You don't think it was an accident."
Roman's face became unreadable.
"We don't know."
Victor appeared behind him.
"Roman."
"What?"
Victor held up his phone.
"We got access to Naomi's building cameras."
Naomi stared.
"You what?"
Victor ignored the protest.
"Someone entered her apartment this morning."
Her blood went cold.
"What?"
"No forced entry."
Roman stepped forward.
"How long were they inside?"
"Seven minutes."
Naomi could barely speak.
"Was anything taken?"
Victor looked directly at her.
"We won't know until someone checks."
Naomi thought of the parenting book.
The one Elise had written in.
Roman clearly reached the same conclusion.
He turned toward Victor.
"Send a team."
Victor nodded.
Naomi caught his arm.
"No."
Everyone looked at her.
"Nobody touches that book except me."
Roman frowned.
"Why?"
"Because if Elise wrote something important, I need to know what it is before one of your people decides I don't."
The words landed heavily.
Roman stared at her.
"You think I would hide something from you?"
"I met you two hours ago."
"Fair."
Naomi looked toward the sleeping babies.
"Take me home."
Roman shook his head.
"Too dangerous."
"Then come with me."
Victor's head snapped around.
Roman looked almost amused.
"You're inviting me to Baltimore?"
"I'm inviting the father of those babies to help me figure out why his dead wife knew my name."
Roman studied her.
Then nodded.
"Tonight."
Victor immediately objected.
"Absolutely not."
Roman turned.
"Prepare the cars."
"Roman—"
"Victor."
The right-hand man exhaled.
"Fine."
Dr. Shah called from beside Jude's crib.
"Nobody is going anywhere until I say these children are stable."
Roman nodded.
Naomi watched him.
That surprised her.
Perhaps more than anything else.
Roman Vale didn't argue.
He sat beside Jude instead.
Hours passed.
The babies fed again.
And again.
Slowly, their diapers became wetter.
Their color improved.
Jude finally cried loudly enough that Dr. Shah smiled.
"That's the first scream I've been happy to hear today."
Roman lowered his head in relief.
Naomi stood nearby.
For a moment, their eyes met.
Something quiet passed between them.
Not romance.
Not trust.
Something simpler.
Two grieving people relieved that death had walked past a doorway without entering.
Near midnight, Victor returned.
He wasn't carrying the parenting book.
He carried a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a torn page.
Naomi recognized the handwriting immediately.
Elise's.
Roman took the bag.
Across the top, Elise had written:
NAOMI—IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO ME, DON'T TRUST THE MAN STANDING CLOSEST TO ROMAN.
The nursery became silent.
Naomi slowly looked toward Victor.
So did Roman.
Victor's face drained of color.
May you like
And suddenly the safest house in Virginia no longer felt safe at all.
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