Chapter 3 - WHY MY PICTURE WAS IN HER ROOM
Detective Vale spread the photographs across a table in the library.
Adrian stood beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
There were thirty-two images.
Most had been taken during the past six months.
In one, I was leaving a fertility clinic.
In another, I was visiting Catherine’s former apartment.
That photograph changed everything.
Adrian looked at me.
“You went to Catherine’s place?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because I had already begun doubting his family.
I had not doubted Adrian.
Not yet.
But Victoria had been pressuring me for months to sign a family confidentiality agreement.
She said the Ashbourne name attracted unstable people.
Then Catherine’s old attorney contacted me.
He said Catherine had tried to reach Adrian before disappearing.
Her final certified letter had been returned unopened.
Victoria’s office signed for it.
That was when I went to Catherine’s apartment.
I found nothing.
Or so I thought.
Vale picked up another photograph.
“You were being followed.”
I looked toward Victoria through the open doorway.
She sat with her attorney under police supervision.
“By who?”
Vale turned over one photograph.
A number had been written in black ink.
A-17.
He found the same code on several others.
Adrian frowned.
“What is A-17?”
Lily answered from the sofa.
“Room seventeen.”
Everyone looked at her.
She held a cup of warm milk with both hands.
“Grandma said people who ask too many questions get a number.”
My skin went cold.
Vale crouched in front of her.
“Did Elena have a room?”
Lily nodded.
“Not yet.”
“Where?”
“Downstairs.”
Adrian turned toward me.
My stomach dropped.
Police searched the basement.
Behind a wine-storage wall, they found a renovated suite.
Bed.
Bathroom.
No windows.
A camera in the ceiling.
A locked medicine cabinet.
And a printed label.
A-17.
ELENA ASHBOURNE.
My husband stared at the sign.
“No.”
Vale opened the medicine cabinet.
Inside were sedatives.
Medical forms.
A blank psychiatric intake.
My name was already printed on it.
Diagnosis.
Acute paranoid disorder.
Threat risk.
Involuntary stabilization recommended.
I felt sick.
“I’ve never been diagnosed with anything.”
Vale looked at me.
“We know.”
Adrian turned toward his mother.
“You prepared a room for my wife?”
Victoria’s lawyer stood.
“My client will not answer.”
Adrian’s face changed.
The obedient son disappeared.
He walked toward her.
“What did you do?”
Victoria looked at him with surprising calm.
“I protected this family.”
“From Elena?”
“From outsiders.”
“She’s my wife.”
“For now.”
Silence.
The phrase landed strangely.
For now.
As though Victoria already expected the marriage to end.
Then Detective Vale found another file in A-17.
A petition.
Petitioner.
Adrian Ashbourne.
Request.
Emergency psychiatric commitment of spouse.
Adrian stared at his own name.
“I never filed this.”
May you like
Vale looked at the signature.
“But someone planned for it to look like you did.”
