Chapter 5 - The Woman in Blue
Elena Reed had supposedly died eighteen months earlier.
Her car had gone through a guardrail during a storm.
It had landed in a ravine.
The vehicle burned before rescue crews reached it.
Marcus had identified her wedding ring.
There had been no viewable remains.
Richard remembered the funeral.
He remembered Marcus standing beside the grave with Olivia holding his hand.
Now Marcus stared at the photograph on Vanessa’s phone as though the world had split open.
“That is Elena’s dress.”
Richard looked again.
Only part of the woman appeared.
A blue sleeve.
A narrow waist.
One hand.
No face.
“You’re certain?”
“I bought it for her.”
Marcus’s voice became distant.
“She wore it to the Sterling Foundation gala two years ago.”
Richard remembered.
Midnight blue.
Silver embroidery at the wrist.
Elena had laughed that the dress cost more than Marcus’s first car.
“Could someone else own the same dress?”
Marcus shook his head.
“It was custom.”
Richard looked at the photograph.
“When was it taken?”
The message metadata showed less than one hour earlier.
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“My wife is alive.”
Richard did not answer.
He was thinking of Ethan.
The false drowning.
The fake death.
The hidden child.
Now another supposedly dead person had appeared.
“How many accidents were not accidents?”
Marcus looked at him.
Neither man wanted the answer.
Police voices echoed above them.
Richard pressed the phone against his palm.
“We go back.”
Marcus did not move.
“Olivia.”
“We cannot find her by running blindly through tunnels.”
Marcus looked ready to argue.
Richard pointed at the photograph.
“We need to know where that room is.”
“The blue wall.”
“Yes.”
Marcus breathed slowly.
Then nodded.
They returned upstairs.
The ballroom had become a crime scene.
Guests were being interviewed individually.
Uniformed officers stood at every entrance.
The broken wall had been taped off.
Dr. Ross sat beside Hannah and Ethan in the adjoining sitting room.
Richard entered.
Ethan immediately lifted both arms.
“Daddy.”
Richard crossed to him.
He picked him up.
The child pressed his cheek against Richard’s shoulder.
Richard closed his eyes.
For a moment, every conspiracy disappeared.
He had his son.
Alive.
Warm.
Breathing.
That should have been enough.
But the people who had done this were still somewhere around them.
Richard sat.
“Buddy.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Do you remember the blue lady?”
Ethan nodded.
“Did she give you food?”
“Yes.”
“Water?”
“Yes.”
“Did she hurt you?”
Ethan shook his head.
“Did she put you in the wall?”
Ethan thought.
“Mommy put.”
Richard swallowed.
“Did the blue lady take you out?”
“Sometimes.”
“Where?”
Ethan pointed toward the floor.
“Down.”
“Downstairs?”
“Down dark.”
“Was there another little kid?”
Ethan nodded.
Marcus moved closer.
“A girl?”
Ethan looked at him.
“Livvy.”
Marcus covered his mouth.
Hannah stared.
“You saw Olivia?”
Ethan nodded again.
Marcus crouched.
“Is she okay?”
Ethan did not understand the question.
Marcus tried again.
“Was Livvy crying?”
“Yes.”
“Was she hurt?”
Ethan looked frightened.
“Bad man yell.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“What bad man?”
Ethan looked toward Richard.
Then toward the doorway.
He whispered.
“Grandpa.”
Richard froze.
His father had been dead for nine years.
Marcus looked at him.
Hannah felt gooseflesh rise along her arms.
Richard tried to keep his voice gentle.
“What do you mean, Grandpa?”
Ethan pointed toward a framed photograph on the sitting room shelf.
It showed Richard as a young man beside his father, Conrad Sterling.
Ethan pointed.
“Grandpa.”
Richard stared.
“You saw him?”
Ethan nodded.
“In the room downstairs?”
“Yes.”
Hannah looked at Richard.
“That’s impossible.”
Richard said nothing.
He walked to the photograph.
His father’s face stared back.
Conrad Sterling had died after a stroke.
Richard had been at the hospital.
He had held his father’s hand during the final minutes.
There was no doubt about that death.
“Maybe he saw a photograph.”
Marcus said it quietly.
Richard turned.
“That has to be it.”
Ethan shook his head.
“Grandpa talk.”
Richard knelt again.
“What did Grandpa say?”
Ethan looked toward the door.
Then he whispered.
“Daddy bad.”
Richard’s blood ran cold.
“What?”
“Grandpa say Daddy bad.”
Richard glanced at Hannah.
She looked equally confused.
Ethan continued.
“Daddy take everything.”
Richard stared at him.
The words were too sophisticated for Ethan to invent.
Somebody had said them around him.
Somebody Ethan associated with Richard’s father.
Richard looked at Marcus.
“Who resembles my father?”
Marcus thought.
Then his expression changed.
Richard saw it.
“Who?”
Marcus answered reluctantly.
“Your uncle.”
Richard felt the air leave his lungs.
Victor Sterling.
Conrad’s younger brother.
The man Richard had not seen in nearly twelve years.
The man expelled from Sterling Global after allegations that he had stolen millions through offshore contracts.
Richard’s father had forced Victor to resign.
Victor disappeared from public life afterward.
Some said he moved to Argentina.
Others said Switzerland.
Richard had stopped caring.
“Victor.”
Marcus nodded.
“He looks like Conrad.”
Hannah asked.
“Would Ethan call him Grandpa?”
“If someone told him to.”
Richard looked at the photograph.
Suddenly the conspiracy became older.
Bigger.
More personal.
The door opened.
Detective Lena Ortiz entered.
She was in her early forties.
Short dark hair.
Direct eyes.
No patience for wealthy families who expected police to behave like hired staff.
“Mr. Sterling.”
Richard stood.
“Detective.”
“I need to speak with you.”
“Here.”
She glanced at Ethan.
“Preferably privately.”
“No.”
Ortiz studied him.
“My son disappears again if he leaves my sight.”
She understood.
“All right.”
She closed the door.
“We searched Mrs. Sterling’s rooms.”
Richard waited.
“We found a packed suitcase.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Three passports.”
“That does.”
“One in her name.”
Ortiz paused.
“One in the name of Catherine Vale.”
Richard frowned.
“And the third?”
Ortiz looked at Ethan.
“Ethan Vale.”
Richard’s eyes sharpened.
“Who is Vale?”
Ortiz pulled a photograph from a clear evidence sleeve.
A passport image of Vanessa.
Different hair.
Different name.
Catherine Elizabeth Vale.
Birthplace listed as Philadelphia.
Richard stared.
“That is my wife.”
“We’re verifying the document.”
“Why would she have another identity?”
Ortiz removed a second photograph.
It showed a young man.
Early twenties.
Dark hair.
Expensive suit.
On the back someone had written a name.
Adrian Vale.
Richard remembered the recorder.
The unknown reference.
Mr. Vale.
“Who is he?”
“We hoped you could tell us.”
Richard shook his head.
Marcus took the photograph.
His face changed.
Richard noticed.
“You know him.”
Marcus did not answer quickly enough.
“Marcus.”
“I saw him once.”
“Where?”
“At Elena’s funeral.”
Richard stared.
“What was he doing there?”
“I assumed he was from her office.”
Detective Ortiz looked interested.
“What office?”
Marcus rubbed his face.
“Elena worked as a forensic accountant.”
Richard knew that.
“What kind of clients?”
“She never discussed them.”
Ortiz pulled out her phone.
“We found this name connected to an old investigation.”
She looked at Richard.
“Adrian Vale was a financial analyst who disappeared fourteen years ago.”
Richard frowned.
“How old was he?”
“Twenty-six.”
“And?”
“He was investigating Sterling Global.”
Richard became still.
Ortiz continued.
“He vanished two weeks before he was scheduled to testify before a federal grand jury.”
Richard looked at the passport photograph again.
“Why would Vanessa carry a passport with his surname?”
Ortiz’s expression remained neutral.
“We’re checking.”
Richard turned toward Marcus.
Marcus had gone pale.
“What?”
Marcus looked at the photograph.
“I remember Elena saying something at her funeral reception.”
Richard stared.
“Elena was dead.”
Marcus corrected himself.
“Before she died.”
His voice shook.
“She asked me if Richard knew what happened to Adrian Vale.”
Richard’s pulse quickened.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I had never heard the name.”
Marcus looked at Richard.
“She said your father had.”
The room went quiet.
Richard looked back at the photograph of Conrad Sterling.
His father.
His mentor.
The man who had taught him how to run the company.
The man whose portrait hung in every Sterling office around the world.
Detective Ortiz spoke.
“There’s more.”
Richard looked at her.
“We searched the hidden compartment.”
“And?”
“We found traces of blood.”
Hannah tightened her grip on Ethan.
Richard’s face hardened.
“Ethan’s?”
“Preliminary test says no.”
“Whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Ortiz continued.
“But we also found something beneath the floor panel.”
She held out a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was an old employee identification card.
The photograph showed Adrian Vale.
Richard stared at it.
The expiration date was fourteen years old.
On the reverse side, someone had written four words by hand.
CONRAD KNOWS ROOM SEVENTEEN.
Richard lifted his eyes.
Detective Ortiz said.
May you like
“I think whatever happened to your son started long before your wife ever entered this family.”
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