Chapter 4 - THE BLUE COAT
"My mother spent two years being called a liar because someone in your family wanted her blamed?"
Emma's words struck Daniel harder than she intended.
Luke lowered the folder.
"Nobody formally accused Rose of a crime."
"Then why is her name in that report?"
"Emma," Daniel said.
"No."
She shook her head.
"I listened to my mother cry because she couldn't remember what happened yesterday. But she remembered that hotel. She remembered being afraid."
Daniel said nothing.
Emma wiped her face.
"And every time she tried to explain, people told her she was sick."
The room became painfully quiet.
Finally, Daniel spoke.
"Then we need to hear what she remembers."
Emma looked doubtful.
"She has good days and bad days."
"Then we won't pressure her."
"Why should I trust you?"
Daniel glanced down at the wheelchair that had become part of his life.
"Because somebody stole two years from me too."
The next afternoon, Daniel's accessible black SUV pulled into the parking lot of a modest memory-care facility outside Chicago.
Emma sat beside him.
She had resisted bringing Daniel.
Not because she wanted to hide anything.
She was afraid her mother would become frightened or confused.
But Daniel had promised something Emma hadn't expected.
He would listen without treating Rose's illness as proof that she was lying.
Inside, the facility smelled of coffee, laundry detergent, and fresh flowers.
Rose Carter sat near a window, folding small cloth napkins.
She was sixty-two, with silver-streaked brown hair and eyes that still resembled Emma's.
"Mom?"
Rose looked up.
For one beautiful second, recognition brightened her face.
"Emmy!"
Emma hurried forward.
Rose embraced her.
"My girl. Did you eat lunch?"
Emma laughed through sudden tears.
"Yes, Mom."
"Something besides crackers?"
"Yes."
Rose patted her cheek.
Then her gaze shifted toward Daniel.
Her hands stopped moving.
"No."
The word came out as a whisper.
Daniel remained beside his wheelchair-accessible table.
"Mrs. Carter?"
Rose pushed her chair backward.
"No. You shouldn't be here."
Emma knelt beside her.
"It's okay, Mom."
Rose stared at Daniel's face.
"You're the boy."
Daniel felt something tighten in his chest.
"What boy?"
"The man with the watch."
Emma gently touched her mother's hand.
"Mom, we found his watch."
Rose's expression changed.
For several seconds, she seemed almost completely present.
"Silver," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Broken glass."
Daniel took the watch from his jacket pocket and placed it on the table.
Rose stared at it.
Then tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I tried," she whispered.
Daniel leaned forward.
"Tried to do what?"
"Keep it safe."
"From whom?"
Rose glanced toward the doorway.
Her breathing quickened.
"The lady in green."
Emma exchanged a look with Daniel.
"What lady, Mom?"
Rose rubbed her hands together.
"Pretty dress. Mean voice."
Daniel felt his pulse quicken.
At the Halstead charity auction, dozens of women had worn expensive gowns.
But one detail stood out.
His sister Vivian had been photographed wearing emerald green that evening.
"Did the woman hurt you?" Daniel asked.
Rose shook her head.
"She said I was confused."
Emma's eyes filled.
"Mom—"
"She said nobody would believe a silly old woman."
Daniel's expression hardened.
He remembered Vivian describing Rose as unstable.
The words were nearly identical.
But before he could ask another question, Rose's attention drifted.
"Emmy, where's your father?"
Emma went still.
Her father had died when she was nineteen.
Rose sometimes forgot.
"He's not here, Mom."
"Oh."
Rose looked down at her napkins.
"I was going to make him a blue coat."
Emma gently kissed her forehead.
Daniel looked away.
He had seen men beg for mercy without feeling half as helpless as he did watching Emma comfort her mother.
A nurse approached.
"She may need a rest."
Emma nodded.
But as she stood, Rose suddenly gripped her wrist.
"The blue coat."
Emma turned.
"What about it?"
"Don't let her have it."
"Who?"
Rose's eyes widened.
"The lady in green."
Then she whispered something neither Emma nor Daniel expected.
"I put it where the stitches were crooked."
Rose released her hand.
Moments later, she was calmly folding napkins again.
Outside, Emma sat in the parked SUV without speaking.
Daniel waited.
Finally, she said, "My mother was a seamstress for thirty years."
"I know."
"Her stitches were never crooked."
Daniel turned toward her.
Emma's face had changed.
"Unless she wanted someone to notice them."
"Do you still have the coat?"
Emma nodded slowly.
"It's in a storage box in my apartment."
Before Daniel could respond, his phone displayed a message from Luke.
He read it, then read it again.
"What is it?" Emma asked.
Daniel showed her the screen.
Luke had obtained the original charity-auction photographs.
In every official photograph taken after eleven o'clock, Vivian was wearing a white evening gown.
Not green.
Daniel stared at the image of his smiling sister.
Then a memory surfaced.
Vivian had changed dresses that night.
He remembered because he'd teased her about it at dinner.
The reason she gave him suddenly seemed strange.
She'd said someone had spilled wine down the front of her green gown.
But he had never seen a stain.
And the next morning, the dress had vanished.
Daniel closed his phone.
"Emma, your mother remembers something Vivian wanted everyone to forget."
Emma looked toward the facility entrance.
Then she asked the question neither of them wanted to answer.
"If my mother wasn't the person who helped set you up, Mr. Moretti..."
May you like
Her voice dropped.
"Was your sister?"
