Chapter 4 - THE MAN NAMED DANIEL REED
Adrian refused to let Maeve go alone.
Maeve refused to stay behind.
They compromised in a way neither liked.
Adrian would drive.
Walter would remain at the mansion with Hannah and Eli.
Maeve would enter Boston South Station alone.
“You have five minutes,” Adrian said from the parked SUV.
Maeve stared at him.
“I’m opening a locker, not invading Canada.”
“Four minutes now.”
Despite everything, she almost smiled.
Almost.
Then she looked down at the baby monitor connected to Walter’s phone.
Eli slept in Adrian’s upstairs sitting room while Hannah sat beside the crib.
Maeve’s chest tightened.
Leaving him, even for fifteen minutes, felt wrong.
But this was for him too.
She entered the station.
Morning commuters moved beneath the huge departure board.
Nobody looked twice at a maid wearing yesterday’s clothes and carrying nine years of somebody else’s secrets in her pocket.
Locker 214 sat near the far wall.
2:14.
The same time frozen on the silver watch.
Maeve slid in the key.
The door opened.
Inside was a dark wool coat.
Nothing else.
She stared.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
She pulled it out.
Heavy.
Old.
Men’s.
One cuff had been repaired by hand.
Maeve recognized the stitching.
Daniel’s coat.
He had worn it on their third date.
Her knees nearly gave out.
She searched the pockets.
Empty.
Then her fingers found something sewn into the lining.
A hard rectangle.
Maeve tore one loose stitch.
A photograph slid into her hand.
Not Julian.
Not Celeste.
Her.
Maeve was standing outside the restaurant where she had worked before Adrian hired her.
The photograph had been taken from across the street.
On the back was a date.
Two months before she met Daniel.
Below it was handwriting she recognized.
NOT HER.
LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS.
Maeve’s throat closed.
There was another line beneath it in different handwriting.
Too late.
A man sat down on the bench behind her.
Maeve froze.
“You always pulled loose threads when you were nervous.”
She stopped breathing.
That voice.
She turned.
Daniel Reed sat six feet away.
Except there had never been a Daniel Reed.
He looked thinner.
Older.
His brown hair was longer than she remembered.
The scar remained under his chin.
So did the green eyes that had once made her believe she knew exactly who was looking at her.
“Maeve.”
She crossed the distance and slapped him.
Hard.
A dozen commuters turned.
Julian didn’t move.
Maeve hit him again.
This time her hand trembled afterward.
“You were alive.”
“Yes.”
“I had your child alone.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
His face tightened.
“I knew you were pregnant.”
Her eyes filled.
“And you left anyway.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No immediate story.
That made it worse.
Maeve stepped back.
“Don’t you dare tell me it was to protect me.”
Julian looked at the floor.
“It was partly to protect you.”
“I said don’t.”
“And partly because I was afraid.”
That stopped her.
Julian lifted his eyes.
“I had spent nine years running. When Celeste found you, I panicked.”
“She threatened me.”
“I know.”
“She used your brother’s name.”
“I know that now.”
“Eli was born without you.”
His jaw tightened.
“I was there.”
Maeve’s face went cold.
“The hospital video.”
“Yes.”
“You stood beside my bed while I was asleep.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“No.”
“I wanted to see him.”
“You should have stayed.”
“I know.”
“You should have woken me.”
“I know.”
“You should have told me who you were before you ever touched my life.”
Julian’s voice dropped.
“I know.”
Maeve hated him for agreeing.
It gave her nothing to fight.
She held up the photograph.
“Why were you watching me before we met?”
Julian looked toward the station entrance.
“Because someone else was.”
Maeve’s anger shifted.
“What?”
“That photograph wasn’t mine.”
She looked at it.
“Your handwriting is on the back.”
“The first line is.”
NOT HER. LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS.
“Who wrote ‘Too late’?”
“Walter.”
Maeve stared.
“No.”
“He was tracking people connected to me.”
“Why me?”
Julian rubbed a hand over his face.
“Because your mother once worked for my father.”
Maeve’s heart lurched.
“My mother was a private-duty nurse.”
“For Malcolm.”
“No.”
“She never told you?”
“She barely spoke about old clients.”
Julian nodded slowly.
“Then she kept her promise.”
“What promise?”
“Your mother treated me after the road.”
Maeve forgot how to breathe.
Julian continued.
“Not the first night. Later. Walter moved me between apartments and clinics. Your mother was one of the few people who knew Julian Vale had survived.”
Maeve thought of her mother.
Dead four years now.
Careful.
Private.
Always warning Maeve never to confuse rich people with safe people.
“She knew you.”
“Yes.”
“How did you find me?”
“After she died, somebody accessed an old payment record tied to her.”
“Walter?”
“I thought so.”
“You were wrong?”
Julian looked at the photograph.
“Yes.”
Maeve felt suddenly cold.
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then why approach me?”
“Because I wanted to find out whether you knew anything.”
Her face hardened.
“So I was bait.”
“At first.”
The words hurt worse than she expected.
Julian stood.
“At first, I watched you because someone else had started watching you. I walked into that restaurant because I needed to know why.”
“And then?”
“Then I fell in love with you.”
Maeve laughed through sudden tears.
“You don’t get to use that sentence as an eraser.”
“I’m not.”
“You lied every day.”
“Yes.”
“You disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“You left me wondering whether I had imagined the whole relationship.”
Julian’s eyes reddened.
“I know.”
She looked away.
Adrian appeared near the entrance.
He had obviously exceeded their agreement.
Julian saw him.
Everything in his face changed.
For nine years, two brothers had existed on opposite sides of a grave.
Now they stood thirty feet apart.
Adrian approached slowly.
Julian didn’t move.
Neither man spoke.
Then Adrian stopped in front of him.
“I watched them lower you into the ground.”
Julian’s voice broke.
“I know.”
Adrian punched him.
Julian staggered.
Maeve closed her eyes.
Apparently it was a family language.
Adrian grabbed his brother’s coat.
“You were alive.”
“I couldn’t come back.”
“You could have called.”
“Malcolm controlled every line around you.”
“He died six years ago.”
“And I still didn’t come back.”
Adrian released him.
“Why?”
Julian looked toward Maeve.
Then back.
“Because by then I knew Father hadn’t acted alone.”
Adrian went still.
“Walter?”
“No.”
“Celeste?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Julian removed something from beneath his shirt.
A small silver rosary.
Maeve recognized it instantly.
Her mother’s.
She stepped forward.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your mother gave it to me the last night I saw her.”
Maeve touched the worn crucifix.
“She said if anything happened to her, I should find you.”
“Why?”
“Because she discovered who had accessed the old medical records.”
Maeve’s hand dropped.
Julian looked at Adrian.
“It came from inside Vale House.”
Adrian frowned.
“Who had access nine years ago and still has access now?”
Julian hesitated.
“Someone you trust enough to control your cameras.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
Maeve remembered the blackout.
The missing envelope.
Celeste entering unseen.
Hannah leaving through a garage camera that somehow captured everything except who opened the gate.
Adrian slowly reached for his phone.
Julian stopped him.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if he realizes we know, Eli becomes leverage.”
Maeve’s blood turned cold.
“Who?”
May you like
Julian looked directly at Adrian.
“Your security chief.”
