Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH FROM BOSTON
I stared at the photograph until the details began to blur.
My office building.
The red brick entrance.
The small brass plaque beside the door.
CARTER & BROOKS ARCHITECTURAL PRESERVATION.
Lily stood on the sidewalk wearing a tan coat.
Her hair was shorter than I remembered.
She looked thinner.
Older.
And frightened.
I hadn't seen my sister in seven years.
Not once.
After I left Chicago, I changed my number.
Closed my social media accounts.
Stopped answering messages from relatives who insisted I should forgive her.
My mother had called repeatedly during the first year.
Then less often.
Eventually, our conversations became brief holiday exchanges.
I knew she was disappointed in me.
I also knew I couldn't keep sacrificing myself to make everyone else comfortable.
But now Lily had apparently traveled to Boston.
And someone had photographed her outside my office.
I called Daniel.
“Can you check our visitor records from three months ago?”
He sounded surprised.
“Why?”
“Someone may have come looking for me.”
“Name?”
“Lily Carter.”
A pause.
“Your sister?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
Daniel knew the broad outline of what had happened.
Not every detail.
But enough.
“I'll check.”
Twenty minutes later, he called back.
“She came.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“March seventeenth. Around eleven.”
I gripped the phone.
“Did she ask for me?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That you were in Philadelphia for a conference.”
I remembered the conference.
Three days of meetings about historic waterfront redevelopment.
“She didn't leave a message?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Actually, she did.”
I stood.
“What?”
“She gave the receptionist an envelope. It was addressed to you.”
“Where is it?”
“That's the strange part.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“It disappeared from the mail tray.”
I stared at the wall.
“Disappeared?”
“We assumed someone delivered it to your office.”
“No one did.”
Daniel was silent.
Then said, “I'll check the security footage.”
By noon, he had found something.
The envelope had been collected by a temporary office assistant named Rachel Monroe.
Rachel had worked for us for two weeks.
Then resigned without notice.
Her references were legitimate.
Her employment documents were in order.
But the address she provided was false.
Daniel sent me a screenshot from the security camera.
Rachel was carrying the envelope.
And on her wrist was a bracelet.
Silver.
With a small black stone.
I recognized it immediately.
Lily had worn the same bracelet in the birthday photograph from Europe.
My stomach turned.
Had my sister given it to Rachel?
Or had Rachel taken it?
I called Adrian.
He answered before the second ring.
“Evelyn?”
“Lily came to Boston.”
Silence.
Then, “What?”
“Three months ago. She went to my office.”
“Did you see her?”
“No. I was out of town.”
I explained the envelope.
The temporary employee.
The bracelet.
Adrian listened without interrupting.
Then he said, “We need to meet.”
I hesitated.
“Somewhere public.”
“Of course.”
“And no bodyguards standing around me.”
A pause.
Then, “Agreed.”
We met at a café near the river.
Adrian arrived alone.
He looked exhausted.
Dark shadows beneath his eyes.
His hair was shorter than I remembered.
There were silver strands near his temples.
He sat across from me.
“Show me the photograph.”
I slid my phone toward him.
He studied the image.
Then went still.
“What?”
He zoomed in.
“Look at the building behind Lily.”
I frowned.
“What about it?”
“The reflection.”
I leaned closer.
In the glass door behind my sister, a dark sedan was visible.
A man stood beside it.
His face was partially obscured.
But Adrian recognized him.
I saw it immediately.
“Who is that?”
Adrian looked up.
“His name is Victor Sloane.”
“Who is he?”
Adrian's voice dropped.
“The man who helped my father build the Moretti organization.”
I stared.
“And?”
May you like
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“He's supposed to be dead.”
