Chapter 7 - SARAH
Emily stared at her father.
“Where?”
Thomas sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
His hands trembled.
“Put the gun away.”
Luca didn’t.
Emily looked at him.
“Please.”
He lowered it.
Thomas studied Luca.
“You look like Giuseppe.”
“I’ve been told.”
“That isn’t a compliment.”
“I know.”
Emily moved closer to her father.
“Sarah.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“She lives under the name Sara Coleman.”
Emily felt the room move.
“Lives?”
“Yes.”
“She’s thirty-two?”
“Yes.”
The little girl’s voice had been a recording.
The child Emily remembered was gone.
A grown woman existed somewhere.
“Why didn’t she ever contact me?”
“She tried.”
Emily’s eyes snapped to him.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“What did you do?”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“I stopped her.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who almost killed her were still watching you.”
“How could you know?”
Thomas looked toward Luca.
“Because Romano money kept moving.”
Luca said, “Which Romano?”
“I didn’t know.”
Emily sat beside her father.
“You let me grieve her.”
“Yes.”
“Every birthday.”
“I know.”
“Every Christmas.”
“I know.”
“I used to talk to her grave.”
Thomas covered his face.
“I know.”
She stood again.
“Stop saying you know.”
Her father lowered his hands.
His eyes were wet.
“I chose the thing I thought would keep both of you breathing.”
“And never asked what it would do to us.”
“No.”
That answer surprised her.
No excuse.
Just failure.
Thomas reached into the cedar chest.
The lining lifted.
Hidden beneath it was an old photograph.
Adult Sarah.
Red hair darker now.
Same eyes.
Emily touched her face.
“Where?”
“Baltimore.”
“You said that.”
Thomas hesitated.
“She works at St. Catherine’s Children’s Center.”
Emily laughed through tears.
“She stayed near St. Agnes?”
“She said she was done running.”
Luca took out his phone.
Thomas grabbed his wrist.
“No calls.”
“Why?”
“Because someone knows.”
“Someone always knows.”
“No.”
Thomas pointed at the receipt.
“Today’s date means the Philadelphia locker has been accessed.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“What's inside?”
“The account key.”
Emily’s memory returned.
The names don’t matter without the account numbers.
Luca looked at her.
“We need Sarah first.”
Thomas shook his head.
“You need the key first.”
Emily answered.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I’m done choosing evidence over people.”
Thomas fell silent.
“Sarah first.”
For once, nobody argued.
St. Catherine’s sat beside a small church in East Baltimore.
Children’s drawings filled the front windows.
Emily’s hands shook as they entered.
A woman stood at the reception desk.
Thirty-two.
Red hair.
A faint burn scar running along her left forearm.
She looked up.
The papers fell from her hands.
Neither woman moved.
Then Sarah whispered:
“Em.”
Emily crossed the room.
Fifteen years disappeared in three steps.
Sarah clung to her.
Emily cried into her hair.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
She didn’t care.
“You’re alive.”
Sarah nodded against her.
“You’re alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
Emily pulled back.
“No. Don’t you apologize.”
Sarah touched her face like she needed proof.
“You look like Aunt Margaret.”
Emily’s breath caught.
“You remember my mother?”
Sarah’s expression changed.
“Yes.”
Luca noticed.
“You saw her the night of the fire.”
Sarah looked at him.
“And you’re Luca Romano.”
“Yes.”
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
Not his father’s.
For some reason, that mattered.
They moved into a private office.
Sarah explained the truth.
After the hospital attempt, Thomas moved her through a church network outside Philadelphia.
Another family raised her.
She knew Emily was alive.
But every attempt at contact brought warnings.
Photographs.
Addresses.
Threats.
Just like Emily’s.
“Who sent them?” Luca asked.
“I never knew.”
“Why return to Baltimore?”
Sarah looked at Emily.
“Because nine months ago I got this.”
She removed a folded card.
A photograph of Emily entering the Romano estate.
Written beneath it:
SHE’S FINALLY WHERE MARGARET WANTED HER.
Emily’s skin went cold.
“You came back for me.”
“I came back to figure out who was using you.”
Sarah had been watching from a distance.
Not stalking Emily.
Watching whoever stalked Emily.
That explained some shadows.
Not the threats.
“Did you place the red shoe at St. Agnes?” Emily asked.
Sarah shook her head.
“Did you make the recording of your childhood voice?”
“No.”
“Who had that recording?”
Sarah’s face changed.
“Helen.”
The nurse.
“She taped therapy sessions.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Where is Helen now?”
Sarah swallowed.
“She runs this center.”
The office door opened.
An older woman stepped inside.
Gray hair.
Steady eyes.
The third woman from Margaret’s photograph.
Helen Walsh.
Emily stood.
“You drugged me.”
Helen didn’t deny it.
“Yes.”
“You helped my father erase what happened.”
“I helped stop you from screaming for three days.”
“That wasn’t your decision.”
“No.”
Helen accepted the accusation.
“It wasn’t.”
Sarah turned on her.
“You said you destroyed the recordings.”
“I thought I did.”
Luca watched Helen carefully.
“Who had access?”
“Your mother.”
“Isabella?”
“And Giuseppe.”
Emily looked at Luca.
His father again.
Helen opened a drawer.
Inside lay the missing green ledger.
Everyone froze.
Luca’s voice went quiet.
“You took it from my father’s study.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone had begun searching for it.”
“Who?”
Helen placed the ledger on the desk.
“I don’t know.”
Anthony, Daniel, Isabella, Thomas, Helen.
Every adult had lied.
Every lie had protected something and endangered something else.
Emily opened the ledger.
Names.
Payments.
Dates.
Victor Romano appeared often.
Giuseppe less.
Police commissioners.
Judges.
Contractors.
Then one name appeared repeatedly.
H.W.
Helen Walsh.
Emily looked up.
“You were paid.”
Helen nodded.
“To provide medical treatment at St. Agnes.”
“These amounts are enormous.”
“Because that wasn’t all I did.”
Sarah stared at her.
“What did you do?”
Helen’s eyes filled.
“I carried messages for Margaret.”
Luca turned pages.
One entry had been circled.
H.W. — TRANSFER / E.C.
Emily Carter.
Her name.
A payment made fifteen years ago.
Emily’s voice trembled.
“What does transfer mean?”
Helen looked directly at her.
“Your mother wanted to take you away.”
“Where?”
“Canada.”
Thomas shut his eyes.
Emily turned to him.
“You knew?”
“I stopped her.”
“Why?”
“She planned to expose the Romanos and disappear with you.”
“And you chose them?”
“I chose you staying alive.”
Emily looked at the ledger again.
A folded envelope sat between two pages.
On the front:
EMILY — WHEN YOU’RE READY.
Her mother’s handwriting.
Emily opened it.
One page.
Margaret’s letter.
Emily read silently until she reached the final paragraph.
Her face went white.
Luca moved closer.
“What?”
She handed it to him.
Margaret had written:
If anything happens to me, do not blame Giuseppe Romano first. He made terrible choices, but on the night everyone believes he came to kill me, he came to warn me. The person I feared was someone Isabella trusted more than anyone.
Beneath that was one final line.
Emily saw her face.
Luca looked at Emily.
A woman.
Someone Isabella trusted.
Blue coat.
The door behind Helen remained open.
Isabella Romano stood in the hallway.
Her face had gone completely still.
Emily looked at her.
And another memory tore open.
Smoke.
The blue coat turning.
A woman’s face.
Not Isabella.
Emily whispered:
May you like
“It was Daniel’s mother.”
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