Chapter 3 - THE FIRE THAT NEVER MADE THE NEWS
Clare stared at the messages until the screen went dark.
Owen noticed immediately.
“What is it?”
She handed him the phone.
He read the words.
His expression changed.
“Who sent this?”
“I don't know.”
“Clare, this is a threat.”
“I know.”
He stood.
“We should call the police.”
She nodded.
But her mind was elsewhere.
Your mother made the same mistake.
Evelyn Bennett had died of cancer eleven years earlier.
She'd been a quiet woman who taught violin lessons from their living room.
She rarely discussed her past.
Whenever Clare asked about the years before her marriage, Evelyn changed the subject.
Now Clare wondered whether silence had been a choice.
Or a necessity.
The following morning, Clare visited the storage unit where she'd kept her mother's belongings.
It was a narrow room filled with cardboard boxes.
Old sheet music.
Photographs.
Concert programs.
A sewing machine.
And a cedar trunk Clare hadn't opened since the funeral.
Inside were letters tied with faded blue ribbon.
Most were ordinary.
Birthday cards.
Notes from students.
Receipts.
But beneath them lay a small leather notebook.
On the first page, written in her mother's handwriting, were four words.
For Clare, when ready.
Clare's hands trembled.
She opened it.
The first pages contained musical exercises.
Scales.
Fingerings.
Annotations.
Then came a dated entry.
October 17, 1994.
Lucia says the records must be preserved. She believes someone is using the conservatory to hide money. I told her to go to the authorities. She says the danger is closer than I understand.
Clare's stomach tightened.
She turned the page.
I heard Beatrice's father arguing with Mr. Moretti. They mentioned the building, the foundation, and a second ledger.
Another page.
Lucia has hidden something in the music. She says the four-note variation is the key.
Clare stopped breathing.
The four notes.
The ones she'd played the night before.
She turned another page.
The handwriting became hurried.
The fire was not an accident.
Below it was a final sentence.
If anything happens to me, tell Lucia I kept my promise.
Clare stared.
Her mother had been hiding a secret for more than thirty years.
And somehow, it had followed her daughter into the Moretti ballroom.
That afternoon, Clare contacted Detective Elena Ruiz of the Chicago Police Department.
Ruiz listened carefully.
She photographed the messages and arranged for the notebook to be documented.
“Do you know anyone who might want to frighten you?” she asked.
Clare hesitated.
“Possibly.”
“Who?”
Clare looked down.
“Someone connected to the Harrington family.”
Ruiz didn't react.
“Why?”
Clare explained the gala.
The violin.
Beatrice's reaction.
The old conservatory.
Ruiz made notes.
Then said, “We'll look into the threats. In the meantime, don't respond to the sender.”
Clare nodded.
“Do you think this is serious?”
Ruiz looked at her.
“Someone referenced your deceased mother in a threatening message. I'm treating it seriously.”
That evening, Vincent received a call from Isabella.
“Come to my house.”
He frowned.
“Mother, I'm working.”
“Now, Vincent.”
Something in her voice made him stand.
Twenty minutes later, he entered her library.
Isabella sat beside the fireplace.
On the table lay a photograph.
Two young women stood outside a brick building.
One was Lucia Moretti.
The other was Evelyn Hart.
Vincent picked it up.
“Clare's mother?”
Isabella nodded.
“Lucia loved her like a daughter.”
He stared.
“What happened?”
Isabella's eyes filled.
“After the Bellwether fire, Evelyn vanished. Lucia believed she had been killed.”
Vincent looked up.
“Why?”
May you like
His mother whispered:
“Because the fire was meant to kill both of them.”
