Chapter 2 - THE BOY IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Adrian did not move.
Neither did I.
For several seconds, the only sound in the corridor was the faint ticking of the old wall clock.
Then Grant appeared behind him.
“Boss?”
Adrian raised one hand.
Grant stopped.
His eyes remained on the frame.
“Give it to me.”
I tightened my grip.
“No.”
The word came out before I could stop it.
Grant's eyebrows rose.
Nobody said no to Adrian Vale.
Certainly not a maid standing in a service hallway at midnight.
Adrian looked at me.
“You don't understand what you're holding.”
“My mother is in that photograph.”
“Yes.”
“She was supposed to be dead.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
That answer frightened me more than anything else.
“You knew?”
Adrian looked away.
“Not everything.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
Grant stepped forward.
Adrian stopped him.
“Leave.”
“But—”
“Grant.”
Grant disappeared.
Adrian came closer.
He didn't reach for the frame.
Instead, he looked at the photograph.
“That woman was named Rebecca Bennett.”
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“She died seventeen years ago.”
Adrian's voice was quiet.
“That is what you were told.”
My heart pounded.
“What actually happened?”
“She disappeared.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He finally looked at me.
“I expect you to believe that I've spent seventeen years trying to find out.”
That silenced me.
Adrian motioned toward a chair.
“Sit.”
I didn't.
He sighed.
Then, surprisingly, he sat first.
“I met your mother when I was twenty.”
I stared.
“My father controlled most of the Vale organization at the time. Rebecca worked for a company that handled one of our legitimate freight accounts.”
“She knew what you were?”
“Eventually.”
“And?”
“She didn't care.”
A strange ache entered my chest.
Adrian continued.
“She was the first person who ever told me she wasn't impressed by my last name.”
Despite myself, I almost smiled.
“That sounds like her.”
His expression softened.
“She had a brother. Gabriel.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“The boy.”
Adrian nodded.
“Gabriel was six.”
My fingers tightened around the frame.
“What happened?”
“Your mother discovered that my father had been using several legitimate shipping companies to hide financial transactions. She wanted out. She threatened to expose him.”
“And he killed her?”
“I don't know.”
“You said she disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you think she was dead?”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“Because three months after she vanished, I found blood in her apartment.”
I stopped breathing.
“Her blood?”
“Yes.”
“Was there a body?”
“No.”
“Then why did everyone tell me she died?”
“I didn't.”
“You didn't?”
“I was told that Rebecca had taken you and left the country.”
My stomach turned.
“I was five.”
“I know.”
“Who told you that?”
“My father.”
Silence.
Adrian looked at the frame.
“And I believed him.”
That confession seemed to cost him something.
“You believed your father.”
“I was twenty.”
“You're asking me to forgive you for something you did seventeen years ago?”
“No.”
His voice was immediate.
“I am asking you to let me help you find the truth.”
I looked down at the photograph.
The little boy beside my mother was smiling.
He looked nothing like the frightened child I remembered from my own fragmented memories.
“Who is he?”
Adrian's eyes followed mine.
“His name was Michael.”
“Was?”
“I thought he died.”
“When?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because someone sent me a photograph of his grave.”
My blood ran cold.
“Someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I never found out.”
I slowly lowered the frame.
“So both of them disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“And you were told they were dead.”
“Yes.”
“And now this photograph proves somebody was lying.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Then why keep it hidden?”
Adrian's expression became distant.
“Because every time I got close to the truth, someone I trusted disappeared.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“What happened to them?”
“Some left Philadelphia.”
“Some?”
“Some didn't.”
I understood.
This was no longer simply about my mother.
It was about a secret powerful enough to survive seventeen years.
Adrian stood.
“Tomorrow morning, you're going to take the day off.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want you inside this house while I investigate.”
“I'm not leaving.”
“Nora.”
“I found the frame.”
“Yes.”
“And my family is in that photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Then I'm involved.”
He stared at me.
For the first time, something like respect appeared in his eyes.
“Fine.”
He took the frame carefully.
“Then you stay beside me.”
I hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because whoever hid this from us may know that you've found it.”
A sound came from the far end of the corridor.
We both turned.
Nothing.
Adrian reached for his phone.
“Grant.”
No answer.
He called again.
Still nothing.
Then the lights went out.
The mansion fell into darkness.
I heard Adrian move.
Then a gunshot shattered the silence.
Glass exploded somewhere upstairs.
Adrian grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind him.
“Stay down.”
Another shot.
Then footsteps.
Fast.
Someone was running through the service corridor.
Adrian moved after them.
I stayed against the wall.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
A small brass key.
It had fallen from the intruder's pocket.
I picked it up.
Engraved on the metal were two letters.
R.B.
Rebecca Bennett.
My mother's initials.
And suddenly I knew the truth wasn't buried in the past.
May you like
Someone had been looking for the same thing we had.
Tonight.
