Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT SHANTEL WALKED AWAY
I left Gabriel's townhouse the next morning.
Naomi helped me arrange a secure apartment.
Detective Ellison confirmed that the investigation was ongoing and advised me to remain cautious.
I agreed.
But I refused to live under Gabriel's roof while he decided which secrets I could handle.
He didn't stop me.
He stood near the front door as I carried my bag outside.
“Shantel.”
I turned.
“I'm sorry.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
He swallowed.
“I wanted to keep you safe.”
I looked at him.
“Then start by respecting me.”
He nodded.
The apartment was small.
Bright.
Quiet.
It had a narrow kitchen and a view of a brick wall.
I loved it.
Because it was mine.
I returned to work.
My studio had been repaired.
The stolen computer was still missing, but most of my files were backed up.
I began restoring a nineteenth-century landscape.
The familiar work steadied me.
Brush.
Solvent.
Cotton swab.
Patience.
One afternoon, a young man entered the studio.
He wore a gray jacket and carried a paper bag.
“Ms. Brooks?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Oliver Price.”
I looked at him.
He seemed nervous.
“Can I help you?”
He placed the bag on the counter.
“My mother knew yours.”
My heart stopped.
“Who was your mother?”
“Margaret Price.”
The name meant nothing.
He swallowed.
“She worked for Richard Carrington.”
Inside the bag was a small wooden panel.
A painting.
Damaged.
Unframed.
It showed a dock at night.
Three figures stood beside a boat.
One was a child.
I stared.
“Where did you get this?”
Oliver looked frightened.
“My mother kept it hidden for years.”
“Why?”
“Because she said it proved what happened to Luca Costa.”
I stepped back.
The painting was old.
But the brushwork—
I recognized it.
My mother's.
Oliver continued.
“My mother died last month. She left instructions that I should find you.”
I looked at him.
“Why me?”
He swallowed.
“Because she said Isabella Costa was the only person who ever tried to save that boy.”
The room became silent.
Then Oliver handed me a letter.
It was addressed to me.
In handwriting I had never seen.
Shantel,
Your mother did not fail Luca.
She was betrayed by someone she trusted.
I stared at the words.
Then looked at Oliver.
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“My mother wrote a name.”
My heart raced.
“What name?”
Oliver looked down.
“Mateo.”
Gabriel's most trusted man.
The man who followed him everywhere.
May you like
The man who had driven me away from the gala.
The man who knew where I'd been hiding.
