Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE OLD PHOTOGRAPH|
The sapphire ring was recovered from Marlene's locker.
Its setting had been forced open. The blue stone was missing, leaving a tiny metal cavity beneath the prongs.
Vincent examined it under the desk lamp.
“Whoever took the stone knew exactly what they were looking for.”
Nora stood near the door.
“Could it be a hidden message?”
“Maybe.”
“Or a key?”
Vincent looked at her.
“You watch too many movies.”
“I work three jobs. Movies are cheaper than therapy.”
Despite himself, he smiled.
He sent the ring to a jeweler who had handled the family's valuables for decades. The jeweler confirmed that the sapphire had been specially cut to conceal a thin metal capsule.
The capsule was gone.
Vincent ordered a search of the entire estate. Nothing turned up.
Then Camila asked for the photograph album.
Nora brought it from the sitting room and placed it on her lap.
Camila turned pages slowly, stopping at an image of herself beside a young woman in a yellow dress.
“Who is she?” Nora asked.
Camila touched the photograph.
“Lena.”
Vincent looked up.
He recognized the woman.
Lena Moretti had been his mother's closest friend. She had disappeared shortly after Dominic Russo vanished.
“What happened to her?” Nora asked.
Vincent took the album.
“She left New York.”
Camila shook her head.
“No. She was sent away.”
“By whom?”
“Your grandfather,” she whispered.
Vincent stared at her.
His grandfather had been dead for more than thirty years.
Camila tapped the photograph.
“She had a baby.”
Nora looked between them.
“Was the baby part of the family?”
Camila nodded.
“Little girl. Dark hair. Your eyes.”
Vincent's stomach tightened.
“Ma, what was her name?”
Camila's lips moved.
“Isabella.”
Vincent had never heard of a cousin named Isabella.
He called Paulie and ordered him to search the old family records. Within an hour, Paulie found a birth certificate issued under Lena Moretti's name. The father was listed as unknown.
But the date was wrong.
The certificate claimed the baby had been born twenty-two years ago.
Nora was twenty-two.
Vincent glanced at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
But Nora had gone pale.
She stared at the photograph.
“Mr. Russo, can I see that?”
He handed it to her.
She studied the young woman in the yellow dress.
“My mother had a picture like this.”
Vincent's expression sharpened.
“What did you say?”
“My mother kept an old photograph of a woman in a yellow dress. She told me she was a family friend.”
“What's your mother's name?”
“Lydia Hayes.”
Vincent looked toward Paulie.
“Find her.”
Nora stepped forward.
“Why?”
“Because I think your mother knew my family.”
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
The room fell silent.
Nora looked at the photograph again.
May you like
Then she whispered something that made Vincent's blood turn cold.
“My mother used to call me Isabella when she was confused.”
