Chapter 3 - THE CHILD HE NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT
“The first child?”
I looked from the photograph to my husband.
“Dorian, whose child?”
He didn't answer quickly enough.
That hurt worse than an immediate lie.
“Tell me,” I demanded.
He stared at the little silver bracelet.
“My brother's daughter.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Your brother had a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
Dorian looked toward the hospital window.
“My brother, Julian, was married to a woman named Rebecca. Their daughter, Sophie, was born twelve years ago.”
I searched my memory.
Dorian had told me Julian died in a boating accident on Lake Michigan.
He rarely spoke about him.
Whenever I asked, he said Julian had been the better brother.
Kinder.
More forgiving.
And that talking about him hurt.
“What happened to Sophie?”
Dorian rubbed his forehead.
“After Julian died, Rebecca took her away. She wanted nothing to do with the Cross family.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed our family was responsible for Julian's death.”
I looked at the bracelet again.
There was a tiny engraved letter.
S.
“You couldn't have told me that?”
“I tried not to bring the past into our marriage.”
“You didn't keep the past out, Dorian. You kept me out.”
Caleb shifted near the door.
“Sir, we need to consider that ticket.”
Dorian's eyes hardened.
“Have Noah secure the lower garage.”
I stood.
“No.”
Both men looked at me.
“If we're going to that locker, I'm coming.”
“Alina, you're pregnant.”
“And apparently everyone knows more about my family than I do.”
Dr. Mercer interrupted before Dorian could respond.
She had the repeat results.
The good news came first.
My immediate examination showed no evidence of an acute poisoning emergency.
The bad news was more disturbing.
A sedative had been detected in a small concentration.
Dr. Mercer explained that the amount didn't establish when or how I'd been exposed, or whether it had affected the pregnancy.
“We're continuing the evaluation,” she said. “For now, I want you resting, staying hydrated, and avoiding anything you cannot account for.”
Dorian asked several questions.
For once, I appreciated it.
He wasn't interrupting.
He was listening.
When the doctor left, I looked at him.
“We can worry about the baby together. But I won't go back to being your prisoner.”
He nodded.
“Then we do this together.”
I wanted to believe him.
The trouble was that I had wanted to believe him every day for the last six months.
We took a private elevator to the lower garage.
Caleb walked ahead.
Noah stayed behind us.
The concrete level smelled of gasoline and cold rain.
At the far end stood a row of storage lockers originally installed for long-term parking customers.
B-17 was the last one.
Dorian stopped in front of it.
“I haven't opened this in twelve years.”
“Why keep it?”
“Julian rented it. After he died, the ownership transferred to me. I couldn't bring myself to empty it.”
Caleb checked the lock.
“It's been opened recently.”
There were fresh scratches around the metal plate.
Dorian's face darkened.
He removed a brass key from his wallet.
I recognized it immediately.
The key from his study.
It turned with a stiff metallic sound.
Inside was a small cardboard box.
Nothing else.
No weapons.
No money.
No dramatic collection of family secrets.
Just a box with the name JULIAN CROSS written across the top.
Dorian lifted it carefully.
Inside lay a child's pink cardigan, a photograph, and an old silver watch.
The watch had stopped at 8:42.
I picked up the photograph.
Julian stood smiling beside a young woman with dark hair.
She held a baby wrapped in a white blanket.
Behind them was the same lake house Dorian had once taken me to for our anniversary.
“Rebecca?” I asked.
He nodded.
Then I noticed the date written along the bottom.
June 2014.
“Julian died in September, didn't he?”
“Yes.”
The photograph had been taken three months before his death.
I turned it over.
A message appeared in neat handwriting.
If anything happens, keep the little one away from the men who come with the black cars.
Dorian read it over my shoulder.
His expression slowly collapsed.
“That's Rebecca's handwriting.”
“You knew she was afraid?”
“I knew she wanted to leave Chicago. I thought it was because Julian had been unfaithful.”
“Was he?”
Dorian shook his head.
“I never found proof.”
Caleb was examining the box.
“Sir, look at this.”
Beneath the cardboard lining was a folded newspaper clipping.
A small article about Julian's death.
Dorian had seen it before.
So had I.
But Caleb pointed to the handwriting along the margin.
Two words.
NOT ACCIDENTAL.
A chill moved down my spine.
“Someone put all this here to make you look again,” I said.
Dorian nodded.
“Or to lead us somewhere.”
The distinction mattered.
Because whoever sent the ticket had known exactly how to reach me.
I turned toward the garage entrance.
A woman stood near the elevator.
She was perhaps forty, with dark hair beneath a wool hat.
She was staring at us.
When I looked directly at her, she turned away.
“Dorian.”
He followed my gaze.
The woman disappeared around the corner.
Caleb moved immediately.
“Stay here.”
“No,” Dorian said. “Let her go.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
His face had gone pale.
“Because I know who she is.”
“Rebecca?”
He shook his head.
“Rebecca's sister. Margaret.”
The woman had been watching us.
But that wasn't the most frightening part.
“Why would she run?” I asked.
Dorian examined the old watch.
“Because twelve years ago, Margaret told the police she saw Julian die.”
“And?”
“She changed her statement three times.”
Caleb returned moments later.
“She left through the service exit. We have a vehicle description.”
Dorian barely heard him.
He had opened the watch.
Inside its back cover was a narrow compartment.
A tiny photograph had been folded into it.
He carefully pulled it free.
It showed Julian standing beside another man.
The second man was younger, clean-shaven, wearing a dark overcoat.
I recognized him.
Not from the newspapers.
Not from Dorian's business photographs.
From our wedding.
He had stood beside Dorian while we exchanged vows.
He had raised a glass and called us the happiest couple in Chicago.
I looked up.
“Caleb?”
Caleb froze.
Dorian turned the photograph toward him.
For the first time since I had known him, Caleb looked genuinely frightened.
“That picture isn't what you think,” he said.
Dorian spoke softly.
“Then explain why you're standing beside my brother on the day he disappeared.”
Caleb took one step backward.
“Because Julian asked me to help him.”
“With what?”
Caleb looked directly at me.
“Getting his wife and daughter away from your family.”
Dorian stared at him.
Then Caleb said the words that changed everything.
“And the reason Rebecca ran wasn't because she feared the Cross name.”
May you like
He swallowed.
“She was afraid of someone who was already living inside your house.”
