Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO LIED FOR EIGHTEEN YEARS
Rachel watched the recording three times.
Not because she needed to.
Because some part of her refused to accept that the frightened woman tied to the chair was her mother.
Elaine Monroe had spent Rachel’s entire childhood teaching elementary school, baking birthday cakes from boxed mix, clipping coupons, and pretending their small apartment outside Chicago was enough.
She hated crime movies.
Hated guns.
Hated even driving downtown after dark.
Yet somehow she had been keeping secrets connected to the DeLuca family for eighteen years.
Roman took the phone from Rachel’s hand.
“That’s enough.”
Rachel looked at him.
“My mother is there because of me.”
“No.”
“Cassandra wants me.”
“She wants the key.”
“The key is mine.”
Roman stepped closer.
“Which means she wants something you have. That does not mean she gets you with it.”
Gabriel interrupted.
“She won’t hurt Elaine before noon.”
Rachel turned on him.
“You don’t get to tell me what Cassandra will do.”
“I know Cassandra.”
“Apparently everybody knows everybody except me.”
That stopped him.
Rachel’s anger broke loose.
“You watched us for years?”
Gabriel nodded.
“From a distance.”
“You watched my mother work two jobs?”
“Yes.”
“You watched me drop out of college for a year when she got sick?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I paid the medical bills anonymously.”
Rachel stared.
She remembered.
A hospital balance suddenly cleared by what administrators called a charitable fund.
Her mother had cried with relief.
“That was you?”
Gabriel nodded.
Rachel almost slapped him.
She wanted to.
Instead she whispered, “You could have come home.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent’s people were still looking for me.”
“You let Mom believe you were dead?”
Gabriel’s voice softened.
“She knew I was alive.”
That hurt worse.
Rachel turned away.
Roman watched her but remained silent.
Walter sat nearby, wrapped in a blanket while the doctor monitored him.
Finally Walter spoke.
“Elaine lied because Gabriel asked her to.”
Rachel looked at him.
“You too?”
“I helped.”
“Wonderful.”
Her laugh sounded broken.
“My entire childhood was apparently a group project.”
Roman’s mouth almost moved.
Under different circumstances, she might have smiled.
Not tonight.
Gabriel laid several photographs on the table.
Cassandra meeting Vincent.
Cassandra visiting a retired probate judge.
Cassandra entering a private bank.
“Eight months ago, she started looking for the second vault,” he said. “That’s when I knew Vincent was moving again.”
Roman studied the photographs.
“Why not come to me?”
“Because I didn’t know if Vincent had compromised you.”
Roman looked offended.
Gabriel shrugged.
“You are powerful, Roman. Powerful men are often surrounded by purchased loyalty.”
“And your solution was putting your daughter in my house?”
“I needed someone Cassandra would underestimate.”
Rachel stared.
“So I was bait.”
“No.”
“That is exactly what bait means.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“I gave your application to Walter. Walter hired you. You were supposed to work upstairs and never know anything.”
Walter cleared his throat.
“That was the plan.”
Rachel turned.
“You hired me because of my father?”
Walter looked guilty.
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
Every relationship in the mansion suddenly felt counterfeit.
Even Walter.
The kind old man who had taught her how to distinguish antique silver from reproductions.
Who remembered she hated coffee.
Who slipped Tyler restaurant recommendations.
He had known everything.
Roman seemed to understand what she was feeling.
“Everyone out.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Roman—”
“Everyone except Rachel.”
Something in his voice ended the discussion.
When the library emptied, Rachel stood near the window.
Dawn had begun coloring the sky over Lake Michigan.
She felt as if she had lived three years since sunset.
Roman poured water.
Not whiskey.
He handed it to her.
She accepted it.
“Did you know?” she asked.
“No.”
“Would you tell me if you had?”
“Yes.”
“How am I supposed to believe anyone?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Rachel looked at him.
Roman leaned against the desk.
“Not tonight.”
That answer surprised her.
He continued.
“Trust people after they earn it. Until then, judge what they do.”
Rachel stared at the water.
“What did you do?”
“I sent twelve men to find your mother.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“You had enough people controlling your life tonight.”
That simple sentence nearly broke her.
She looked away quickly.
Roman’s voice lowered.
“We will find her.”
“How can you promise that?”
“I didn’t.”
Rachel turned back.
“I said we’ll find her. I didn’t say what condition, because I won’t lie to you.”
She appreciated the cruelty of the truth more than every comforting lie she had heard that night.
At 7:10 a.m., Marco entered.
“We found the recording location.”
Rachel stood.
“Where?”
“Not the hotel.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“A decoy?”
“Yes.”
Marco put photographs on the desk.
An abandoned photography studio.
The chair.
The same brick wall.
No Elaine.
But there was something else.
One envelope.
Addressed to Rachel.
Inside was a handwritten message.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHY SHE WAS IN ANTONIO DELUCA’S BEDROOM THE NIGHT HE DIED.
Rachel stared.
Roman read it over her shoulder.
“Cassandra wants you suspicious of Elaine.”
“What if I should be?”
Roman did not answer.
At 8:40, they received another clue.
A toll camera caught a black SUV registered to one of Cassandra’s shell companies.
It had traveled south.
Toward an old DeLuca-owned hotel near Joliet.
Exactly where Cassandra had instructed them to go.
Roman prepared three vehicles.
Rachel walked toward the first.
He blocked her.
“No.”
She stared.
“You think I’m staying here?”
“Yes.”
“Move.”
“Rachel.”
“My mother is there.”
“And Cassandra wants you.”
“She also wants the key.”
“We can give her a duplicate.”
“She’ll test it.”
Roman’s silence told her she was right.
Rachel stepped closer.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“You don’t own me.”
Roman’s expression changed.
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like it.”
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
“So is everyone else. Apparently that’s been the excuse for lying to me since I was nine.”
That hit him.
Rachel immediately regretted it.
But Roman simply stepped aside.
“Wear the vest.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“If you’re going to ignore me, do it safely.”
An hour later, their convoy approached the abandoned DeLuca Grand Hotel.
The building had closed fourteen years earlier.
Broken windows stared across empty parking lots.
Gabriel rode in another vehicle.
Walter remained at the mansion.
Roman sat beside Rachel.
“You stay behind me.”
“I heard you the first eight times.”
“That was seven.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
It vanished when they entered the hotel.
The lobby smelled of dust.
A chandelier hung crooked above overturned furniture.
Roman’s men spread out.
A speaker clicked on.
Cassandra’s voice echoed.
“Roman.”
He looked upward.
“Cassandra.”
“You brought Rachel.”
“You knew I would.”
“I hoped you’d learned something from me.”
“I did.”
A pause.
“What?”
“That the woman I almost married has terrible taste in hiding places.”
Rachel almost laughed again.
Cassandra did not.
“Second floor. Ballroom.”
They climbed.
Rachel’s heartbeat grew louder with every step.
The ballroom doors stood open.
Elaine sat in the center.
Untied.
Alone.
“Mom!”
Rachel ran.
Roman caught her arm.
“Wait.”
Elaine looked up.
“Rachel?”
Her face crumpled.
“Baby, don’t come closer.”
Rachel stopped.
“Why?”
Elaine’s eyes shifted downward.
A wire ran beneath her chair.
Roman saw it too.
“Pressure trigger.”
Elaine was sitting on a device.
Roman’s face became stone.
Rachel whispered, “Cassandra…”
Her mother started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
Rachel crouched several feet away.
“Tell me later.”
“No.”
Elaine shook her head.
“You need to know now.”
“Mom.”
“Your father didn’t abandon us.”
“I know.”
Elaine stared.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
Shock crossed her face.
Then relief.
“He’s alive.”
Rachel’s anger returned.
“You knew.”
Elaine closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why were you in Antonio’s bedroom when he died?”
Elaine’s eyes flew open.
Roman became perfectly still.
Rachel saw fear.
Not confusion.
Her mother understood the question.
“Who told you that?”
“Cassandra.”
Elaine looked toward Roman.
“Roman, your father didn’t die of heart failure.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Elaine’s voice trembled.
“You don’t understand.”
She looked directly at him.
“I was there.”
Roman stepped forward.
“My father was murdered?”
Elaine whispered:
“Yes.”
Rachel felt the room tighten.
Roman asked the only question that mattered.
“Who killed him?”
Elaine looked at Rachel.
Tears slid down her face.
“Her father.”
Rachel felt as though the floor had opened beneath her.
“No.”
“Gabriel killed Antonio DeLuca.”
A slow clap came from the balcony.
Everyone looked up.
Cassandra stood above them.
A gun in her hand.
Beside her stood Vincent.
Alive.
Smiling.
May you like
Cassandra looked down at Rachel.
“Now,” she said softly, “ask Gabriel what else he forgot to tell his daughter.”
