Chapter 1 - THE MESSAGE BEHIND THE PHOTOGRAPH
The hard-shell case moved again.
A dull pounding came from inside it.
“Daddy.”
The tiny voice was weak but unmistakable.
“Open it before she comes back.”
Ethan Whitmore dropped his briefcase onto the marble floor.
He ran across the grand living room and fell to his knees beside the oversized black luggage case.
The external lock had been secured through both metal zipper pulls.
“Sophie, keep talking to me.”
“I’m here.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Can you breathe?”
“Yes.”
Ethan grabbed the fireplace poker from beside the hearth.
He forced the narrow end beneath the external lock and twisted until the metal clasp broke.
He did not strike the case.
He did not cut through the shell.
He released only the lock Celeste had attached from the outside.
The case opened.
Six-year-old Sophie lay curled inside on top of folded blankets.
Small ventilation holes had been cut into one side.
She was frightened but conscious, breathing normally, and physically unharmed.
She threw herself into Ethan’s arms.
He held her against his chest as anger and terror fought inside him.
“You’re safe.”
“I’ve got you.”
Sophie clutched a faded photograph of her late mother.
Amelia Whitmore smiled from the image while holding Sophie as a baby.
“She wanted the picture,” Sophie whispered.
“Who did?”
“Celeste.”
“Why?”
“She said Mom’s room belongs to someone else now.”
Footsteps sounded above them.
Ethan looked toward the grand staircase.
Celeste appeared at the top wearing a cream traveling coat.
She carried three passports, a folder of documents, and a stack of airline tickets.
A partially dressed man stepped into view behind her.
Richard Cole.
Ethan’s chief financial officer.
His closest friend for nearly fifteen years.
Richard was buttoning his shirt.
Celeste saw the opened luggage case.
The passports slipped from her hand.
The tickets scattered down the staircase.
Richard stopped moving.
Ethan slowly stood while holding Sophie.
“What did you do?”
Celeste’s expression shifted from surprise to calculation.
“This is not what it looks like.”
“My daughter was locked inside a suitcase.”
“She climbed inside while playing.”
Sophie shook her head.
“She told me to be quiet.”
Celeste looked at the child.
For one second, hatred replaced the careful concern on her face.
Then it vanished.
Ethan noticed.
He also noticed the airline ticket resting near his shoe.
The passenger name read Sophie Amelia Whitmore.
The flight departed from a private terminal outside Hartford at midnight.
The destination was Lisbon.
It was a one-way ticket.
Ethan picked it up.
“Where were you taking my daughter?”
Celeste descended one step.
“You need to calm down.”
“Do not come closer.”
Richard moved behind her.
“Ethan, let us explain.”
“You were in my wife’s bedroom.”
“Amelia has been dead for two years.”
“That room is still hers.”
Sophie tightened her arms around her father’s neck.
“Mom knew.”
Ethan looked at her.
“What did she know?”
Sophie raised the photograph.
“Mom wrote something behind this before she went away.”
Ethan turned it over.
There were only seven handwritten lines.
Ethan recognized Amelia’s handwriting immediately.
Ethan, Celeste knew Richard before she knew us.
If they try to take Sophie overseas, open the blue moon in her nursery.
Do not trust the company attorney.
The truth about my accident is hidden with Sophie’s inheritance.
Ethan read the message twice.
Then he looked toward Celeste.
The color had drained from her face.
Richard stepped backward.
May you like
Celeste whispered one sentence.
“That photograph was supposed to be destroyed.”
