Chapter 10 The Woman in the Photograph
The broken window let the cold October wind pour into the farmhouse.
Police officers photographed footprints, shattered glass, and shell casings while detectives moved carefully through the rooms.
Emma barely noticed them.
Her attention remained fixed on the faded photograph in Mason's hand.
The young woman smiled brightly beside Frank Brooks and Arthur Holloway.
She couldn't have been older than twenty-five.
Dark hair.
Kind eyes.
A small birthmark near her left eyebrow.
On the back, in blue ink, were the words:
She was never dead.
Emma looked at Mason.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Daniel stepped closer.
"But someone wanted us to read it."
Detective Sarah Collins arrived just after noon.
She listened carefully as Mason explained the attack.
"They didn't take the legal documents?"
"No."
"The photographs?"
"No."
"They only took the cassette and the letter."
Collins frowned.
"So they weren't robbers."
"They knew exactly what they wanted."
Emma interrupted.
"Can you identify them?"
Collins shook her head.
"They wore gloves and masks."
"But..."
She paused.
"What?"
"We recovered tire tracks."
Emma's pulse quickened.
"The same pattern we found outside the library."
"The black SUV."
Collins nodded.
"We're certain now."
"The same group attacked both locations."
An evidence technician approached.
"Detective?"
"What is it?"
"We found this under the piano."
He handed Collins a folded sheet of paper.
It had apparently slipped beneath the floorboards years earlier.
Emma immediately recognized the handwriting.
Her father's.
Collins carefully unfolded it.
The paper had yellowed with age.
Only one paragraph had been written.
"If anyone other than Emma and Lily finds this..."
"You are already too late."
"The truth has survived longer than I expected."
"Trust Margaret Carter."
Emma stared.
"Margaret."
Daniel closed his eyes.
"My mother."
Emma turned sharply toward him.
"You knew."
He nodded once.
"I did."
"You still didn't tell me."
"I couldn't."
She laughed bitterly.
"That's becoming your favorite sentence."
An hour later...
The four of them drove to St. Andrew's Medical Center.
Emma had never met her mother-in-law in eight months.
She still couldn't understand how that had been possible.
Daniel quietly explained during the drive.
"Mom asked me not to tell anyone."
Emma looked at him.
"Not even your wife?"
"She said she didn't want pity."
Emma shook her head.
"That's not her decision to make."
"No."
Daniel looked out the passenger window.
"It wasn't."
Margaret Carter was sitting beside the hospital window when they entered.
The afternoon sunlight softened the lines on her tired face.
She smiled gently when she saw Emma.
"There you are."
Emma stopped walking.
"You knew I'd come."
Margaret nodded.
"Frank always said you were stubborn."
Emma almost smiled despite herself.
"My father talked about me?"
"Every visit."
Margaret looked toward the empty chair beside her bed.
"Sit down."
Emma obeyed.
For several moments neither woman spoke.
Finally Margaret reached into her bedside drawer.
She removed an old leather wallet.
Inside was a faded photograph.
She handed it to Emma.
Emma looked down.
It showed Frank holding a newborn baby.
Standing beside him...
Was the same mysterious young woman from the farmhouse photograph.
Emma frowned.
"Who is she?"
Margaret answered quietly.
"Her name..."
"...is Catherine Holloway."
Emma blinked.
"Holloway?"
Margaret nodded.
"Arthur's younger sister."
The room became silent.
Emma looked again at the photograph.
"My father knew her."
"He loved her."
Emma frowned.
"My father was married to my mother."
Margaret gently corrected her.
"He married your mother later."
Emma felt the world shift beneath her feet.
Margaret continued.
"Catherine disappeared thirty-nine years ago."
"Dad told us she died."
"He believed she had."
Emma frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Margaret looked toward Daniel.
Then back at Emma.
"Frank was told Catherine died in a boating accident."
"But she didn't?"
Margaret slowly shook her head.
"No."
Emma whispered,
"Then where did she go?"
Margaret's eyes filled with sadness.
"She ran."
"From who?"
Margaret answered with only one word.
"Arthur."
Daniel looked down.
Emma stared at him.
"You knew this?"
"I knew part of it."
"How much?"
"Not enough."
Margaret sighed.
"Frank protected everyone."
"Too much."
"He believed secrets could keep people safe."
Emma quietly replied,
"They didn't."
At that moment...
Detective Collins received a phone call.
She stepped into the hallway.
Thirty seconds later she returned.
Her expression had changed completely.
"What happened?" Mason asked.
"We recovered surveillance footage."
"From where?"
"The farmhouse."
Emma stood.
"Did you see their faces?"
"No."
"But we identified one vehicle."
"The SUV?"
Collins nodded.
"It belongs to Holloway Historical Foundation."
Emma frowned.
"A charity?"
"Officially."
Mason crossed his arms.
"And unofficially?"
Collins answered,
"It has received more than fifty million dollars in private funding from Arthur Holloway."
Daniel looked toward the window.
"So Arthur wants us to find him."
Meanwhile...
Across the city...
Arthur Holloway sat alone in a spacious library.
The stolen cassette tape rested on his desk.
He turned it over in his hands.
Smiled.
Then placed it into an antique tape recorder.
He pressed Play.
Static filled the room.
Then Frank's familiar voice emerged.
"If you're hearing this..."
Arthur smiled.
"...then you've stolen the wrong tape."
His smile disappeared.
The recording continued.
"Arthur..."
"I know you'll find this eventually."
"Because you've never been able to resist taking what belongs to someone else."
Arthur's jaw tightened.
Then—
The tape abruptly stopped.
Blank.
Only twenty-three seconds long.
Arthur stared at the recorder.
"A decoy."
He whispered.
Frank had anticipated even this.
Back at the hospital...
Margaret suddenly reached beneath her pillow.
She removed a small sealed envelope.
"This was supposed to be given to you..."
She looked at Emma.
"...on your fortieth birthday."
Emma accepted it carefully.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Frank Brooks.
Across the front were seven words.
Only after you forgive Daniel.
Emma stared at the envelope.
She looked at Daniel.
Then back at the words.
"I can't open it?"
Margaret shook her head.
"Not yet."
Emma almost laughed.
"My father is still giving me instructions."
Margaret smiled sadly.
"He always believed timing mattered."
Emma carefully slipped the envelope into her purse.
She wasn't ready to forgive Daniel.
Not yet.
But for the first time since the birthday party...
She wasn't certain he was the villain either.
As evening settled over the city...
A nurse entered Margaret's room with her medication.
She placed the syringe on the bedside table.
Margaret frowned.
"I usually take pills."
The nurse smiled politely.
"Doctor's new orders."
She reached for the syringe.
Daniel happened to glance at the label.
His face instantly turned white.
"Stop!"
He lunged across the room, knocking the syringe from the nurse's hand.
It shattered on the floor.
The liquid hissed against the tile.
The nurse bolted toward the door.
Detective Collins tackled her before she reached the hallway.
Within seconds, security guards surrounded the room.
Collins pulled off the woman's surgical mask.
No one recognized her.
She wasn't a nurse.
She wasn't even a hospital employee.
In her pocket, officers found a single handwritten note.
Three words.
No more witnesses.
Emma slowly turned toward Margaret.
May you like
Someone...
Had just tried to kill the only person her father had trusted.
