Chapter 4 - THE DOCTOR'S WIFE
Helena Mercer looked like someone who had never been told no.
Her coat was immaculate.
Her jewelry understated but expensive.
Her smile perfectly controlled.
Beatrice placed the blue ledger behind her back.
“What do you want?”
Helena glanced around the shop.
“Charming place.”
“It's closed.”
“I know.”
She stepped closer.
“My husband has spent ten years keeping Dominic Russo alive.”
Beatrice said nothing.
“And now a seamstress thinks she knows better.”
“I found something in his jacket.”
Helena smiled.
“I'm aware.”
Beatrice's heart pounded.
“How?”
“Because my husband has friends.”
The woman looked toward the cutting table.
“Matteo was one of them.”
Beatrice felt cold.
“Matteo is dead.”
“Yes.”
Helena's smile faded.
“Such a shame.”
Beatrice studied her.
“Did your husband have something to do with it?”
Helena laughed softly.
“Careful, dear.”
She approached the dress form.
“Matteo was becoming sentimental.”
Beatrice took a step backward.
“He wanted to tell Dominic the truth.”
Helena's eyes sharpened.
“Did he?”
Beatrice said nothing.
The woman's gaze moved toward the notebook.
“Give me what you found.”
Beatrice tightened her grip.
“No.”
Helena sighed.
“Don't be foolish.”
She reached into her handbag.
Beatrice tensed.
But Helena removed a photograph.
She placed it on the cutting table.
It showed Samuel Whitcomb.
Alive.
Older.
Standing beside a hospital bed.
Beatrice stopped breathing.
“Dad?”
Helena watched her reaction.
“Your father has been very cooperative.”
Beatrice stared.
“Where is he?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you give me the ledger.”
Beatrice's eyes filled.
For ten years, she had believed her father was dead.
She had buried an empty coffin.
She had spent birthdays alone.
Christmases alone.
Every important moment shadowed by absence.
Now a photograph suggested he was alive.
She looked at Helena.
“How do I know this is recent?”
Helena smiled.
“Because I anticipated that question.”
She turned the photograph over.
A newspaper was visible in the background.
The date was three days earlier.
Beatrice felt her knees weaken.
“Where is he?”
Helena held out her hand.
“The ledger.”
Beatrice looked toward the window.
Across the street, the black SUV remained parked.
Dominic's security officers were watching.
But Helena stood between her and the door.
Beatrice took a breath.
Then smiled faintly.
“You're right.”
Helena raised an eyebrow.
“About what?”
“I'm only a seamstress.”
Beatrice placed the ledger on the cutting table.
“I don't know what any of this means.”
Helena reached for it.
At that moment, Beatrice knocked over a large container of dressmaker's pins.
Hundreds scattered across the floor.
Helena recoiled.
Beatrice lunged toward the front window.
She struck the glass with the heavy base of a tailor's iron.
The sound shattered the quiet street.
Outside, the security officers reacted immediately.
Helena spun toward the door.
Beatrice grabbed the ledger.
Then shouted:
“HELP!”
Within seconds, the shop door burst open.
Helena tried to run.
One officer blocked her.
The other moved toward Beatrice.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
Then held up the photograph.
“My father.”
Her voice broke.
“He's alive.”
The officer looked at the image.
Then spoke into his radio.
“Mr. Russo needs to see this.”
Beatrice stared at the blue ledger.
For the first time in ten years, hope hurt more than grief.
May you like
Because if her father was alive, someone had stolen a decade of her life.
And she was going to find out who.
