Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Mrs. Bell was gone.
Not from the house.
From the room.
The bloodstained note had been staged.
Security searched every floor.
No sign of her.
Maxwell was furious.
“Lock every exit.”
Guards scattered through the house.
I stood near the bedroom door.
“Who could take your mother from inside this house?”
“Anyone with access.”
“Your brother?”
“Maybe.”
“Miss Delaney?”
“Maybe.”
“Your security team?”
“Definitely.”
I looked at him.
“You don't trust anyone.”
“No.”
“Not even me?”
He looked directly at me.
“You are the only person here I trust enough to be afraid for.”
Before I could answer, a phone rang.
Not mine.
His.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
Then Maxwell's face changed.
“What do you want?”
Silence.
“I said what do you want?”
He listened.
Finally, he said:
“She's innocent.”
The call ended.
I stepped closer.
“Who was that?”
“Someone who has my mother.”
“What did they say?”
“They said I have twenty-four hours.”
“For what?”
“To hand over the drive.”
“The drive Daniel had?”
“Yes.”
“I don't have it.”
He stared at me.
“Do you?”
“No.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“Then we have a problem.”
We searched Daniel's old apartment.
Maxwell took me there himself.
It had been untouched since his death.
His belongings were still boxed.
His coat hung behind the door.
I nearly broke down seeing it.
Maxwell stayed several feet away.
He knew grief had its own boundaries.
I opened Daniel's desk.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
“When he was a kid, he hid everything in books.”
We searched the bookshelf.
Third row.
Blue dictionary.
I pulled it out.
A small USB drive fell behind it.
My heartbeat stopped.
“That isn't possible.”
Maxwell took it.
“That's it.”
We returned to Rourke House.
The drive contained shipping manifests.
Names.
Dates.
Account numbers.
Payments.
And hundreds of photographs.
Daniel had documented everything.
But one folder was encrypted.
The title was:
MOTHER.
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
Maxwell stared at the screen.
“I don't know.”
Then the computer displayed a video file.
We opened it.
Daniel appeared on screen.
His face was bruised.
He looked exhausted.
He spoke directly into the camera.
“Martha, if you're watching this, then I'm probably dead.”
I covered my mouth.
“There's something you need to know.”
Daniel continued.
“Maxwell didn't kill me.”
I looked at Maxwell.
“He tried to save me.”
The video went on.
“The person behind everything isn't who you think.”
Daniel leaned closer to the camera.
“I found out the trafficking network is using legitimate companies as fronts.”
He named warehouses.
Shipping firms.
Storage companies.
Then he said:
“There's one company above all of them.”
The screen flickered.
“Rourke Holdings.”
My stomach dropped.
Maxwell shook his head.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Daniel continued.
“It appears to be controlled by Maxwell.”
I looked at him.
“Appearances are wrong.”
The video stopped.
A second file opened automatically.
This time Daniel's voice was weaker.
“I was followed.”
He paused.
“Someone inside Rourke House is helping them.”
Then another pause.
“His name is…”
The file corrupted.
Maxwell slammed his fist against the desk.
“Damn it.”
I stared at the screen.
The encryption wasn't complete.
One line of text remained.
A name.
“Delaney.”
I looked at him.
“Miss Delaney?”
He shook his head.
“Maybe.”
We rushed downstairs.
Miss Delaney was gone.
Her room had been emptied.
Her clothes.
Her purse.
Everything.
Only one item remained.
A photograph of a woman.
She looked young.
Beautiful.
Standing beside Maxwell's father.
I turned it over.
A note was written on the back.
“Her name was Eleanor.”
Maxwell stared.
“My mother.”
I looked at him.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is she twenty years younger?”
He took the photograph.
His face went pale.
“Because this isn't my mother.”
“Then who is she?”
He turned the photograph around.
There was a scar above the woman's eyebrow.
“I know her.”
“Who?”
“My father's mistress.”
Silence.
“What?”
“She died twenty years ago.”
“Apparently not.”
Maxwell looked at the photograph again.
Then he whispered:
“She's alive.”
The phone rang.
This time, it was a number I recognized.
My brother's old phone.
I answered.
A woman's voice spoke softly.
“Martha.”
“Who is this?”
“You've been asking the right questions.”
“Where is my brother?”
She laughed.
“Your brother is dead.”
“Where is Mrs. Bell?”
“Safe.”
“Who are you?”
Another laugh.
“Someone your family owes.”
“Which family?”
“Yours.”
The call ended.
I looked at Maxwell.
He had gone still.
“Who was it?”
I told him.
May you like
Then he said the words that made my blood run cold.
“That was my mother.”
