Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Photograph Was Supposed to Be Dead—Yet She Had Been Watching Emma for MonthsDetective Santos didn't let me touch the photograph.
She placed it inside a plastic evidence bag.
“Tell me everything you know about Rachel Moore.”
I shook my head.
“Not much.”
“You worked for her.”
“For six months.”
“What did she do?”
“Property management.”
“That's what she told you?”
“Yes.”
Santos studied me.
“She wasn't a property manager.”
My stomach tightened.
“What was she?”
“An informant.”
I stared at her.
“For who?”
Santos didn't answer.
Instead, she opened a folder.
Inside were photographs.
Rachel.
Karen.
Adrian.
Dante.
Emma.
My name.
My address.
My sister's medical records.
Everything.
Someone had been tracking me.
For months.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Rachel's hand rested on Karen's shoulder.
Karen was smiling.
But Emma wasn't.
The baby was looking directly at the camera.
Santos noticed.
“You see that?”
“What?”
“Look at Emma.”
I did.
Her tiny face was turned toward Rachel.
Her eyes were wide.
Almost frightened.
Santos whispered,
“She recognized her.”
I felt sick.
“Why would a seven-month-old recognize someone?”
“That's what we're trying to find out.”
Then the interrogation-room door opened.
Dante Russo walked in.
I froze.
The man who had helped arrest me.
He looked at Santos.
“I need to speak with her.”
Santos shook her head.
“No.”
Dante placed a file on the table.
“Then read this.”
Santos opened it.
Her expression changed.
“What is this?”
“Hospital records.”
She read them.
Then looked at me.
“Your sister's surgery.”
I frowned.
“What about it?”
“The operation was anonymously paid for.”
My heart stopped.
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“That isn't possible.”
Dante looked at me.
“It came from an account connected to Rachel Moore.”
My hands trembled.
“Why would she pay for my sister?”
Nobody answered.
Then Dante said,
“Because she didn't.”
Santos looked at him.
“What?”
“The payment was made eight months ago.”
The room went silent.
“Rachel died eight months ago.”
Santos slowly closed the file.
Dante looked at me.
“Someone has been using her identity since the day she supposedly died.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why me?”
Dante didn't answer.
He pulled another photograph from his coat.
It showed me.
Standing outside the Valente estate.
Holding Emma.
But the photograph had been taken two weeks before Emma was born.
I stared.
“How?”
May you like
Dante whispered,
“Because somebody knew you would be there.”
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