Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE GLASS
“Yesterday.”
Alexander stared at Noah.
Emily reached for her son's hand.
“Honey, what lady?”
Noah looked confused by their expressions.
“The pretty lady with the blanket.”
“Where did you see her?”
“At the big house.”
Emily covered her mouth.
Alexander lowered himself to one knee.
“Did someone take you there?”
Noah nodded.
“Mommy's friend.”
“Which friend?”
“The grandma with the cookies.”
Emily whispered, “Margaret.”
Noah nodded enthusiastically.
“She had chocolate ones.”
Alexander exchanged a glance with Marcus.
Margaret Sullivan had not simply located the hospital records.
She had taken Noah to Ravenswood.
And apparently, she had brought him close enough to see the mysterious patient.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Emily asked.
Noah lowered his eyes.
“Grandma Margaret said it was a surprise.”
Emily hugged him.
“You're not in trouble.”
Alexander watched the two of them.
Noah trusted Emily completely.
He leaned against her without hesitation, knowing she would catch him.
Alexander couldn't remember the last time anyone had trusted him that way.
Marcus returned.
“Three vehicles are ready. I've also located the facility's administrative records.”
“Who manages it?”
“Victor Moretti is chairman of the oversight committee.”
“And the medical director?”
“Dr. Charles Whitcomb.”
Alexander recognized the name.
Whitcomb had signed several medical reports concerning Isabella's death.
Alexander felt cold.
“Bring him to Ravenswood.”
Marcus hesitated.
“Sir, he's currently attending a charity dinner with Victor.”
“Then he can leave early.”
Emily stepped forward.
“Noah stays here.”
Alexander agreed immediately.
“You're right.”
She blinked.
She had expected an argument.
“Dr. Bennett can stay with him,” Alexander continued. “My private security team will remain upstairs. Nobody enters without your permission.”
Emily looked toward Noah.
“And you're going?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
Alexander paused.
“I thought you wanted to stay with your son.”
“I do.”
She drew a steadying breath.
“But Isabella was my sister.”
Alexander studied her for a long moment.
“Then we go together.”
An hour later, their vehicles rolled through the iron gates of Ravenswood House.
The property sat behind acres of dark pine trees.
Snow covered the lawns.
A stone building with tall windows rose at the end of the drive.
From outside, it looked peaceful.
Inside, Alexander noticed the cameras.
Too many cameras.
And too few patients.
The night administrator, Mrs. Helen Price, met them in the entrance hall.
Her smile vanished when she recognized Alexander.
“Mr. Moretti. We weren't expecting you.”
“I own the foundation that funds this place.”
“Of course.”
“I'd like to see your long-term residents.”
Mrs. Price clasped her hands.
“At this hour?”
“Yes.”
She glanced at Marcus.
“Our patients require privacy.”
Alexander's expression hardened.
“So do I. Yet here we are.”
Mrs. Price led them down a quiet corridor.
Paintings of gardens covered the walls.
Everything smelled faintly of disinfectant and lavender.
Emily noticed a small wooden Christmas tree beside the nurses' station.
Three blue stars had been drawn on its paper ornaments.
She stopped.
“Alexander.”
He followed her gaze.
Mrs. Price moved quickly.
“One of our patients enjoys decorating.”
“Which patient?”
“I'm afraid I can't discuss individual treatment.”
Alexander turned toward her.
“You can discuss the money my foundation pays for it.”
Mrs. Price's composure faltered.
At the end of the corridor, a woman sat beside a window.
She wore a pale blue sweater and a knitted blanket over her knees.
Her hair fell in dark waves past her shoulders.
She was facing away from them.
Emily stopped breathing.
Alexander felt something he had not experienced in six years.
Hope.
Terrible, dangerous hope.
“Isabella?”
The woman did not move.
Alexander stepped closer.
“Bella?”
She slowly turned.
It wasn't Isabella.
The woman was older, perhaps fifty, with tired blue eyes and a thin scar near her mouth.
Emily gripped the wall.
Alexander felt the hope collapse.
Mrs. Price looked relieved.
“This is Mrs. Eleanor Voss.”
The woman studied Alexander.
Then she began trembling.
“You shouldn't be here.”
Alexander crouched beside her.
“Do you know me?”
Eleanor looked toward Mrs. Price.
“Please,” she whispered. “Don't let them take my window.”
Emily knelt beside her.
“We're not here to hurt you.”
Eleanor looked at Emily's face.
Then at her eyes.
“Isabella?”
“No,” Emily answered softly. “I'm her sister.”
The woman's hands flew to her mouth.
“Emily.”
Alexander's attention sharpened.
“You knew Isabella.”
Eleanor nodded.
“I watched her.”
“Where?”
Eleanor glanced toward the corridor.
“Across the courtyard.”
Alexander followed her gaze.
Through the window stood another wing of the building.
Its windows were dark.
“Who was there?” he asked.
Eleanor looked frightened.
“The girl who sang at night.”
Emily's eyes filled.
“What did she sing?”
Eleanor whispered a few words from an old Italian lullaby.
Alexander recognized it instantly.
His mother had taught it to Isabella.
She used to sing it while cooking Christmas dinner.
Alexander's pulse raced.
“Where is she now?”
Eleanor's lips trembled.
“They moved her.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Alexander looked toward Mrs. Price.
The administrator backed away.
“Mr. Moretti, I really must insist—”
“Where did you move her?”
Mrs. Price said nothing.
Marcus stepped into the corridor, blocking her escape.
Alexander leaned close.
“I came here believing my wife might be alive. I have found evidence that she was kept in a facility funded by my own family. You can answer me now, or answer investigators in the morning.”
Mrs. Price's face crumpled.
“I didn't know who she was.”
“Then tell me where she went.”
The woman swallowed.
“Dr. Whitcomb arranged a transfer.”
“To where?”
“I don't know. The vehicle left before dawn.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Alexander felt rage rising.
But before he could speak, Eleanor reached for his wrist.
Her fingers brushed his diamond watch.
“No,” she whispered.
Alexander looked down.
“What?”
Eleanor pointed at the watch.
“The girl had one.”
“A watch?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“A little gold clock. She kept it beneath her pillow.”
Emily looked confused.
Alexander understood.
Isabella had owned a tiny gold pendant shaped like an antique clock.
It had belonged to his mother.
Inside was a miniature photograph from their wedding.
“Where is it?”
Eleanor reached into the pocket of her blanket.
She withdrew a small brass key.
“The girl told me to keep it until the man with the silver eyes came.”
Alexander stared at the key.
“What does it open?”
Eleanor pointed toward the courtyard.
“The Christmas room.”
Mrs. Price made a small sound.
Alexander turned.
“What Christmas room?”
The administrator looked defeated.
“It's a storage room in the old wing.”
Marcus took the key.
Minutes later, they crossed the courtyard.
The old wing was colder.
Unused beds lined a hallway.
At the end stood a wooden door decorated with faded paper snowflakes.
Marcus unlocked it.
Inside were boxes of clothing, holiday decorations, and old patient belongings.
Emily noticed a blue sweater folded inside an open carton.
She lifted it.
Her hands began shaking.
“Isabella wore this.”
Alexander recognized the sweater.
He had bought it for her during their second Christmas together.
Beneath it lay the tiny gold clock pendant.
Alexander opened it.
Their wedding photograph was still inside.
But someone had replaced the glass.
Underneath it was a second photograph.
A newborn baby.
Wrapped in a white hospital blanket.
Alexander stared at the infant.
Emily leaned closer.
“That's Isabella's son.”
On the back, written in tiny letters, were three words.
HIS NAME: GABRIEL.
Alexander pressed the photograph against his chest.
Then Marcus discovered something beneath the box.
A recently printed transfer receipt.
The destination was not another medical center.
It was a private airfield outside Hartford.
Departure time: 6:00 a.m.
Passenger authorization: Victor Moretti.
May you like
And under the passenger's name was one final entry.
ISABELLA MORETTI — ALIVE.
