Chapter 10 - THE MAN WHO HIRED HER
Trevor Ashford had never expected Haven Hart to ask difficult questions.
That was his first mistake.
His second was assuming Philippe Ferraro would always choose family loyalty over evidence.
By the time Detective Vega asked Trevor to remain for questioning, his attorney was already on the phone.
Haven watched him pace near the library.
His expression was controlled.
But his hands betrayed him.
He kept touching his left cuff.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The same gesture he'd made at the diner when Haven asked why he had chosen her.
She remembered.
Observation could compensate for many things.
Not everything.
But enough.
Trevor's interview began with the dinner invitation.
He admitted Bianca had asked him to find a woman Philippe would consider socially unsuitable.
He claimed the goal was to embarrass Philippe into accepting a more appropriate marriage arrangement.
Detective Vega asked why Haven had been selected.
Trevor said:
“Bianca recognized the name.”
Haven watched his lips through the interview-room window.
The interpreter relayed the exchange.
Vega asked:
“Recognized it from where?”
Trevor hesitated.
“Old household records.”
“Why search Brooklyn diners?”
“I didn't.”
“Then how did you find her?”
Silence.
Haven leaned forward.
Trevor finally answered.
“Someone sent me her employment information.”
“Who?”
“My aunt.”
Haven shook her head.
He's lying.
Philippe looked at her.
Why?
He told me his aunt had seen me work. Now he says she sent him my employment information.
Philippe nodded.
Vega asked for the original messages.
Trevor refused.
His attorney intervened.
The interview ended.
But investigators obtained a warrant for relevant communications.
That evening, the truth emerged.
Trevor had been monitoring Haven for nearly six months.
Not Bianca.
Trevor.
He had obtained her work schedule.
Her apartment address.
Her mother's death records.
Even information about Pearl.
Haven felt physically ill reading the report.
Philippe sat across from her.
You don't have to read everything.
She looked up sharply.
Yes, I do.
He nodded.
Then waited.
The messages revealed that Trevor believed Evelyn Hart had hidden evidence connected to the Red Hook shipments.
He knew about the music box.
He knew Evelyn had once written to Philippe.
And he knew Haven was struggling financially.
Two thousand dollars.
Enough to tempt her.
Not enough to change his life.
A small amount to him.
A large amount to her.
That was what made it cruel.
He had calculated her desperation.
Haven closed the file.
He didn't see me as a person.
Philippe's expression softened.
No.
He saw a debt and a name.
Yes.
Haven looked away.
Then asked:
What happens now?
Philippe answered carefully.
The police investigate. The courts decide.
She studied him.
And you?
He hesitated.
I make sure my businesses aren't protecting anyone involved.
Not revenge?
His face changed.
For a moment, she saw the man newspapers feared.
Then he signed:
Not revenge.
Haven nodded.
Good.
Later that night, Philippe received a message.
No sender.
No signature.
Only a photograph.
The silver music box.
Its bottom panel had been removed.
Inside was a narrow compartment.
Empty.
Below the image:
SHE KEPT THE WRONG THING.
Philippe showed Haven.
She stared at the photograph.
Then laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because she finally understood.
They're looking for something that isn't there.
Philippe frowned.
What do you mean?
Haven remembered her mother winding the music box.
Remembered the way Evelyn watched the painted portrait inside the lid.
Remembered the way she always closed it before anyone entered the room.
My mother didn't hide something inside the box.
Philippe waited.
She used the box to remember where she'd hidden it.
He looked at the photograph.
The painted portrait.
The yellow cardigan.
The flowers.
Then Haven noticed a detail she'd overlooked for years.
Behind Sofia in the painting stood a white chair.
The same chair from the storage unit.
And beneath it—
a small bird inside a circle.
Haven's breath caught.
The chair.
Philippe looked at her.
The police already searched it.
They found the note.
She shook her head.
But maybe the note wasn't the secret.
She reached for her phone.
Opened the photograph of the chair.
Enlarged the underside.
There.
A second panel.
Almost invisible.
May you like
Haven looked at Philippe.
My mother left two hiding places.
