Chapter 3 - Dela’s Name in the Dark
The message changed everything.
Marin spent the entire night awake in August’s library, surrounded by documents while Josie sat beside her reading anything that seemed relevant.
August had called every contact he trusted.
Nobody slept.
At sunrise, a new envelope arrived.
No return address.
Inside was an old photograph.
Dela.
Alive.
Marin touched the image even though she could not see it.
August described it.
“Your sister is sitting in a hospital bed.”
“How old?”
“About twenty-four.”
That made sense.
Dela had been twenty-four when the fire occurred.
“Look at the background.”
He examined the photograph.
“There's a window. A machine.”
“Anything else?”
“A number painted on the wall.”
“What number?”
“Seven.”
Marin’s fingers tightened.
“The fire station report said the building burned at 2:17 a.m.”
August looked at the photograph again.
“Maybe she was moved before the fire.”
Marin stood.
“I knew it.”
“What?”
“That night.”
She rubbed her temples.
“I kept remembering something.”
“What?”
“Dela called me before the fire.”
August looked sharply at her.
“You never told anyone?”
“I thought I imagined it.”
“What did she say?”
“I couldn’t understand everything. She was whispering.”
Marin closed her eyes.
“There was a bell in the background.”
August froze.
“What kind of bell?”
“A church bell.”
He grabbed a map.
“There are dozens of churches.”
“Not in the industrial district.”
Marin shook her head.
“The sound was metal. Deep. Hollow. And there was water nearby.”
August looked at her differently.
“You remember all that?”
“I remember sounds.”
He understood.
Three locations matched.
One had been abandoned.
Another belonged to a company controlled by August’s father.
The third was a small church by the river.
They went there.
The church had been closed for seven years.
Marin entered first.
The air smelled of stone and dust.
Her cane tapped against the floor.
“Stop.”
August stopped.
Marin listened.
A faint electrical hum came from beneath the altar.
She walked toward it.
“There.”
A hidden door opened when August moved a carved panel.
Stairs descended.
At the bottom was an old infirmary.
Empty.
Except for a chair.
And a metal bracelet.
Marin touched it.
Dela had worn it every day.
A tiny charm hung from it.
M.
For Marin.
She sank to her knees.
“She was here.”
August crouched beside her.
“Marin.”
“This was hers.”
“We’ll find her.”
“How?”
“We follow the evidence.”
They discovered medical records.
Dela had survived the fire.
She had suffered severe burns and temporary memory loss.
Someone had moved her through private clinics.
Then the records disappeared.
Everywhere.
The trail ended six months after the fire.
Except for one name.
Dr. Elias Vane.
A cardiologist.
August looked at the file.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“He treated my brother.”
Marin’s heart began racing.
“Your brother died because he discovered someone inside your family was betraying him.”
“Yes.”
“And Dela survived a fire tied to the same people.”
“Yes.”
“So they may have been connected.”
August nodded.
They found Dr. Vane living under another name outside Baton Rouge.
He agreed to meet them.
The old doctor trembled when Marin introduced herself.
“You look just like your sister.”
Marin’s throat closed.
“You knew she was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You treated her.”
“Yes.”
“Who brought her?”
The doctor looked at August.
Then at Marin.
“Your father.”
August became still.
“My father?”
“He brought Dela to me after the fire.”
“Why?”
“She had seen something.”
“What?”
“A murder.”
Marin stopped breathing.
Whose?
“Your brother’s.”
August stepped back.
“What?”
Dr. Vane continued.
“Dela had been at the docks the night your brother was killed. She witnessed an argument between him and another man.”
“Who?”
The doctor hesitated.
“August's father.”
Silence.
August's expression became cold.
“My father killed my brother?”
“I never said that.”
“But you know what happened.”
“I know your brother was alive when Dela saw him.”
“What happened afterward?”
“She was attacked.”
“She survived.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you hide her?”
“Because your father told me she would be killed if anyone knew.”
Marin’s voice broke.
“Where is she now?”
The doctor looked at her sadly.
“She was taken from the clinic.”
“By whom?”
He handed her a small card.
“Ask the woman who called herself Eleanor.”
Marin touched it.
A perfume scent remained on the paper.
She recognized it.
Mrs. Ferrer.
The woman downstairs.
Marin’s stomach dropped.
“No.”
August looked at her.
“What?”
“The old woman who visits me.”
The doctor nodded.
“Eleanor Ferrer.”
Marin felt the world tilt.
“She isn’t who she says she is.”
August immediately called Enzo.
“Find Mrs. Ferrer.”
Too late.
She had disappeared.
Her apartment was empty.
No clothes.
No furniture.
Only one photograph on the kitchen table.
Dela.
Alive.
And a handwritten message beneath it.
BRING MARIN ALONE.
Marin clenched her hands.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“She has my sister.”
“It could be a trap.”
“Of course it’s a trap.”
August grabbed her shoulders.
“You’re not walking into it alone.”
Marin tilted her head.
“Then don’t let me.”
He stared at her.
She placed one hand over his heart.
It was still irregular.
But less violent than before.
“You keep telling everyone you’re not afraid.”
August looked down.
“I am.”
“What are you afraid of?”
Losing you.
He did not say it.
But Marin heard it anyway.
His breathing told her.
She smiled sadly.
“Then come with me.”
He nodded.
May you like
And for the first time, August took Marin’s hand not because she needed guidance.
Because he needed her there.
