CHAPTER 4 — WHAT HAPPENED TO HER MOTHER
CHAPTER 4 — WHAT HAPPENED TO HER MOTHER
The message on Evelyn's phone remained on the screen.
COME ALONE.
OR SHE DIES.
She stared at it without blinking.
Marcus reached for the phone.
Evelyn pulled it away.
“No.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Evelyn.”
“You're not making this decision for me.”
Marcus's expression hardened.
“This isn't a game.”
“I know.”
“They have your sister.”
“Then we find her.”
“They want you to walk into a trap.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you acting like you're going?”
“Because I am.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“You're not going anywhere alone.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“I didn't say I was.”
She turned toward Celeste.
Celeste stared back.
“You want me to come?”
“You're the only person Nathan won't expect.”
Celeste gave a bitter laugh.
“Nathan expects everything.”
“Not you.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Because he never saw you as a threat.”
Celeste looked down.
“He never saw anyone as a threat until it was too late.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Exactly.”
Marcus interrupted.
“We're not going anywhere until we know where Amelia is.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Then let's find out.”
She held up the photograph.
“Nathan had this taken six months ago.”
Marcus studied it.
“There may be metadata.”
“Can you trace it?”
“Yes.”
He took the photograph and scanned it.
The screen displayed a series of numbers.
Coordinates.
Marcus's eyes narrowed.
“This was taken near Philadelphia.”
Celeste stepped closer.
“Where?”
Marcus zoomed in.
A small town appeared.
Hawthorne Ridge.
Evelyn recognized the name.
“That's where the old Ashford estate is.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Yes.”
Evelyn's heart began pounding.
“Then that's where Nathan took Amelia.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He wants me to think she's there.”
Marcus nodded.
“Exactly.”
Celeste looked at the photograph.
“Then why send us the picture?”
Evelyn studied Nathan's face.
“Because he wants us looking at Amelia.”
“What are we supposed to see?”
Evelyn turned the photograph over.
The writing on the back remained.
HE FOUND HER FIRST.
She looked at the image again.
Nathan was standing beside Amelia.
Behind them was a building.
An old stone house.
And above the doorway—
a small metal number.
17.
Evelyn's eyes widened.
“Seventeen.”
Marcus looked at her.
“What?”
“The key.”
She turned toward Celeste.
“The one your mother gave you.”
Celeste pulled the brass key from her pocket.
Number 17.
Marcus stared.
“No.”
Evelyn's voice became quiet.
“This isn't about Amelia.”
Marcus looked at the photograph.
“It is.”
“No.”
Evelyn pointed to the building.
“That's not the Ashford estate.”
Marcus zoomed in.
He froze.
“What is it?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“My mother's house.”
Silence.
The room seemed to lose all air.
Marcus stared at the photograph.
“I haven't seen that house in seventeen years.”
Evelyn looked at the key.
“Then we're going back.”
They arrived at Hawthorne Ridge just before sunrise.
The town was almost empty.
Fog covered the road.
The old house stood at the end of a narrow lane.
Burned.
Abandoned.
Half-hidden by trees.
Evelyn stopped outside.
She had seen photographs of the fire.
But she had never seen the place herself.
“This is where it happened?”
Marcus nodded.
“Yes.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
Her mother had died here.
Or so she had believed.
She touched the blackened stone wall.
“What do you remember?”
Marcus stood beside her.
“Your mother was inside.”
“You said that.”
“I remember the fire.”
“Not the fire.”
Evelyn turned toward him.
“Her.”
Marcus looked at the ruins.
“She was scared.”
“Of Victor?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Marcus hesitated.
“She told me to take you and run.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew Victor was coming.”
Evelyn's voice became softer.
“What happened before the fire?”
Marcus looked away.
“Your mother called me.”
“At what time?”
“Eleven forty-two.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she had found the account.”
“What account?”
“The one Victor used to hide the stolen money.”
Evelyn stared.
“The same money he took from victims?”
“Yes.”
“Was she going to expose him?”
“She had already contacted someone.”
“Who?”
Marcus didn't answer.
“Dad.”
“A federal investigator.”
“Name?”
“Daniel Cross.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
Evelyn frowned.
“When?”
“Three days after the fire.”
She went still.
“Coincidence?”
“No.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Nothing connected to Victor was ever coincidence.”
Evelyn looked at the ruins.
“Then what happened that night?”
Marcus took a breath.
“I arrived ten minutes after your mother's call.”
“And?”
“The house was already burning.”
“Where was Mom?”
“I couldn't find her.”
“You said you found her necklace.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In the bedroom.”
Evelyn looked at the remains.
“Then you assumed she died.”
“No.”
Again that word.
Evelyn turned.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I never believed she died.”
“Why?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Because I found something else.”
“What?”
“A second set of footprints.”
Evelyn's eyes widened.
“Inside the house?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“I didn't know.”
“Where did they lead?”
Marcus pointed toward the woods.
“There.”
Evelyn followed his finger.
A narrow trail disappeared into the trees.
“You never told the police.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the police were already compromised.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“How many people did Victor control?”
“Enough.”
“That's not a number.”
Marcus looked at her.
“Half the men who investigated the fire.”
Evelyn felt sick.
“So Mom could have escaped.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you let me believe she was dead?”
“Because Victor was watching you.”
“And if he thought she was dead?”
“He stopped looking.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
She hated the lie.
But she understood the reason.
That didn't make it hurt less.
They entered the ruins.
The floorboards had collapsed in several places.
Marcus moved first.
“Stay close.”
Evelyn ignored him.
She walked toward what had once been the kitchen.
There was almost nothing left.
A broken stove.
Charred cabinets.
A rusted sink.
Then she saw it.
A small metal box.
Half buried beneath the floor.
She crouched.
Marcus grabbed her arm.
“Don't touch it.”
“Why?”
“Could be a trap.”
He pulled it free.
The box was blackened but intact.
There was a lock.
Number 17.
Celeste stepped forward.
“The key.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“Open it.”
Celeste inserted the key.
It turned.
The box opened.
Inside was a stack of photographs.
A flash drive.
And a letter.
Evelyn picked up the letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Her mother's.
Her hands began shaking.
Marcus,
If you are reading this, the fire has already happened.
Evelyn stopped.
Marcus looked at her.
“Keep reading.”
She continued.
Victor knows about the archive.
He knows about the accounts.
He knows about Evelyn.
Her breath caught.
But he does not know about the second child.
Evelyn looked up.
Marcus closed his eyes.
The second child.
Amelia.
She kept reading.
If something happens to me, take both girls.
Do not separate them.
Evelyn's eyes filled with tears.
“They were supposed to grow up together.”
Marcus nodded.
“I tried.”
“But you failed.”
“Yes.”
She looked back at the letter.
If I disappear, don't trust anyone connected to Victor.
Not the police.
Not the lawyers.
Not the bankers.
Then one final line.
And never trust Margaret Morgan.
Evelyn froze.
Celeste's face went white.
“My mother?”
Marcus stared at the letter.
“I didn't know Isabelle suspected her.”
Celeste shook her head.
“She loved my mother.”
“People can love someone and still betray them.”
Celeste looked at Evelyn.
“My mother wouldn't.”
Evelyn handed her the letter.
“Then why did mine write this?”
Celeste couldn't answer.
Marcus picked up the flash drive.
“There may be more.”
They found an old laptop in the trunk of Marcus's vehicle.
The drive contained hundreds of files.
Financial records.
Scanned documents.
Audio recordings.
Then a folder appeared.
FIRE — 11:42 PM
Marcus opened it.
A recording began.
Isabelle's voice filled the car.
Terrified.
“Marcus, listen carefully.”
A man's voice responded.
Marcus's younger voice.
“Where are you?”
“At the house.”
“Get out.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because she's here.”
Marcus froze.
“Who?”
Isabelle whispered:
“Margaret.”
Celeste covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
“I trusted her.”
Marcus's voice became urgent.
“Isabelle, leave now.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because she brought Victor's men.”
Silence.
Then Isabelle whispered:
“They know about the girls.”
Marcus leaned toward the speaker.
“What are they going to do?”
“I don't know.”
A loud crash sounded.
Isabelle screamed.
Then:
“Marcus!”
The recording ended.
Nobody moved.
Celeste's eyes filled with tears.
“My mother brought them.”
Evelyn stared at her.
“It sounds like it.”
“No.”
Celeste shook her head.
“My mother worked for Isabelle.”
“She also worked for Victor.”
Celeste turned toward Marcus.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“And you never told me.”
“I didn't know how much she was involved.”
Celeste looked down.
“She lied to me.”
Evelyn closed the laptop.
“Then we find her.”
Marcus nodded.
“She disappeared three years ago.”
Celeste whispered:
“Because she knew Nathan was going to kill her.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because she told me.”
“When?”
“The night she gave me the key.”
Celeste's voice trembled.
“She said Nathan had discovered she still had something from your mother.”
“What?”
Celeste shook her head.
“She wouldn't tell me.”
Evelyn looked at the photograph again.
Nathan.
Amelia.
The house.
Number 17.
Everything connected.
Then she noticed something in the background.
A car.
A black Mercedes.
She zoomed in.
There was a person standing beside it.
An older woman.
Evelyn's heart stopped.
“That's Margaret.”
Celeste stared.
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked at the date.
Six months ago.
“She was alive.”
Celeste's voice broke.
“And Nathan knew where she was.”
Marcus suddenly stood.
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because the fire wasn't meant to kill Isabelle.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“What?”
Marcus pointed toward the house.
“Look at the pattern.”
She followed his finger.
The damage was concentrated around the front and sides.
Not the rear.
Marcus continued.
“The fire blocked the exits.”
“But left one path open.”
“The path into the woods.”
Evelyn stared.
“Someone wanted her to escape.”
Marcus nodded.
“Exactly.”
Evelyn's heart raced.
“Then who?”
Marcus looked at the recording.
“Maybe Margaret.”
Celeste shook her head.
“My mother wouldn't help Isabelle escape.”
“Maybe she wasn't helping her.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
Marcus's expression darkened.
“Maybe she was taking her somewhere.”
“Where?”
He looked toward the woods.
“We don't know.”
A sound came from behind them.
A branch snapping.
Marcus immediately raised his gun.
“Who's there?”
Silence.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone emerged from the trees.
An old man.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
He raised both hands.
“Don't shoot.”
Marcus stared.
“Daniel?”
The man smiled.
“No.”
He looked at Evelyn.
“But I knew your mother.”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Robert Hale.”
Marcus lowered his gun slightly.
“You were supposed to be dead.”
Robert smiled.
“So was I.”
Evelyn stared.
“Did you know my mother?”
“I helped her escape.”
Marcus's face changed.
“What?”
Robert looked at Evelyn.
“Your mother survived the fire.”
Evelyn couldn't breathe.
“She survived?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
Robert looked at Celeste.
Then at Marcus.
Then back at Evelyn.
“She trusted one person after that night.”
“Who?”
Robert's eyes moved to the brass key.
“Margaret Morgan.”
Celeste shook her head.
“No.”
Robert continued.
“Your mother believed Margaret was helping her disappear.”
“Was she?”
Robert hesitated.
“She was.”
Evelyn's heart lifted.
Then he added:
“For a while.”
Her hope vanished.
“What happened?”
Robert's face became grim.
“Margaret took Isabelle somewhere safe.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You must know.”
“I only know where they were supposed to go.”
“Where?”
Robert looked toward the old road.
“A convent outside Pittsburgh.”
Marcus stared.
“St. Catherine's.”
Robert nodded.
“That was the last place I saw your mother.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“When?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
“Was she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did she have Amelia?”
Robert looked at her.
“No.”
Evelyn's heart sank.
“Then where was my sister?”
Robert said nothing.
“Tell me.”
“She had been taken.”
“By Victor?”
Robert nodded.
“And Margaret knew.”
Celeste whispered:
“My mother knew where Amelia was?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because Victor threatened her.”
“With what?”
Robert looked at Evelyn.
“With you.”
Silence.
Evelyn suddenly understood.
Victor had not only controlled Nathan.
He had controlled Margaret.
He had controlled Celeste.
He had controlled everyone through fear.
Robert reached into his coat.
He removed a small envelope.
“Your mother gave me this.”
Evelyn took it.
Her name was written on the front.
EVELYN
Her hands trembled.
“When was this written?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
She opened it.
Inside was a single page.
Her mother's handwriting.
My darling Evelyn,
If you ever read this, it means I failed to come back for you.
Evelyn's vision blurred.
I need you to know one thing.
I never abandoned you.
A tear fell onto the paper.
I left because staying would have gotten you killed.
She covered her mouth.
Marcus looked away.
Evelyn continued.
Your father will tell you I disappeared because of Victor.
She looked at Marcus.
His eyes were closed.
That is only partly true.
Evelyn's heart pounded.
Victor was not the only man I was running from.
She stopped.
“What?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Keep reading.”
Evelyn continued.
There was another man.
A man your father trusted.
Her hands began shaking.
A man who helped Victor find us.
Evelyn looked at Marcus.
“Who?”
Marcus couldn't answer.
She read the final line.
If he ever comes back, don't trust him.
The letter ended.
Evelyn lowered it.
“Dad.”
Marcus stared at the floor.
“Who was Mom running from?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad!”
Marcus finally looked at her.
And for the first time, Evelyn saw guilt in his eyes.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Guilt.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
Marcus shook his head.
“I swear.”
“You knew Mom was alive.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew Margaret helped her.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew someone else was involved.”
“I suspected.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Then tell me what you know.”
Marcus's voice became quiet.
“The night your mother disappeared, I saw one other person leave the house.”
“Who?”
“I never saw his face.”
“Then how do you know who it was?”
“Because of the ring.”
Evelyn froze.
“What ring?”
“A black stone set in silver.”
Her sapphire pendant suddenly felt cold against her skin.
The same ring she had seen in the old photograph.
The same symbol connected to Victor.
She whispered:
“Who wore it?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Someone I trusted.”
“Who?”
Before he could answer, Celeste's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Nobody spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“Tell Evelyn her mother is alive.”
Celeste froze.
Evelyn grabbed the phone.
“Who are you?”
The voice laughed.
“You're asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
A pause.
Then:
“Ask your father who started the fire.”
The call ended.
Evelyn turned toward Marcus.
He was staring at her.
Neither spoke.
Then Evelyn asked the question that would destroy everything she thought she knew.
“Dad…”
Her voice trembled.
“Did you start the fire?”
Marcus's face went pale.
“No.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Then who did?”
Marcus looked toward the ruins.
His voice broke.
“The man behind the fire…”
He swallowed.
“…was the last man your mother ever trusted.”
Evelyn's eyes widened.
“Who?”
Marcus looked at her.
May you like
“Me.”
TO BE CONTINUED
