Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Darkness made rich people sound ordinary.
Someone screamed.
Glass broke.
A man swore.
High heels scraped marble.
Then Roland’s hand closed around Norah’s wrist.
She jerked instinctively.
He released her immediately.
“Sorry.”
The apology came fast.
“Stay low.”
Emergency lights flickered red along the baseboards.
The ballroom returned in fragments.
Tables.
Bodies.
Security moving.
Dominic Russo was gone.
Liam was gone too.
Norah’s stomach dropped.
“They ran.”
Roland’s gaze moved through the room.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Planned outage.”
“By Dominic?”
“Probably.”
“What about Liam?”
“Useful distraction.”
His voice was cold.
A security man approached.
“West terrace exit was opened during blackout.”
“Cameras?”
“Looped.”
“How long?”
“Forty-seven seconds.”
Roland looked toward the terrace.
“Seal the grounds.”
The man left.
Norah stared at him.
“You knew my aunt.”
“Yes.”
“Do not answer me like we’re discussing weather.”
His eyes met hers.
“Not here.”
“Stop saying that.”
Several guests were already filming.
Cameras.
Phones.
Whispers.
Roland looked around.
Then back at her.
“Do you want to leave?”
The question cut through anger.
Not we are leaving.
Do you want to?
Norah swallowed.
“Yes.”
They left through a service corridor.
No photographers.
No explanations.
In the car, Roland sat across from her.
The diamond collar still circled her throat.
She suddenly hated it.
“Take this off.”
He leaned forward.
Stopped.
“May I?”
Her anger faltered.
“Yes.”
His fingers found the clasp.
Warm.
Steady.
The diamonds came away.
Norah rubbed the skin beneath them.
“Talk.”
Roland looked out the window once.
Then began.
“Evelyn Hart worked for my father.”
“What kind of work?”
“Accounting.”
“My aunt was an accountant?”
“Yes.”
“My mother said she taught piano.”
“Both can be true.”
“Was she mafia?”
“No.”
Roland’s jaw tightened.
“She was civilian.”
The word civilian sounded like a category of collateral damage.
Norah hated it.
“How did she die?”
“Officially?”
“Do not do that.”
He looked at her.
“Car fire.”
Norah stopped breathing.
“My mother said accident.”
“It was not.”
“Who killed her?”
Roland’s silence gave her the first answer.
“You think you did.”
“No.”
He looked at her directly.
“I think my decisions put her where someone else could.”
“Who?”
“My father’s partner.”
“Dominic?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Vincent Cross.”
The last name hit.
“Vivienne.”
“His daughter.”
Norah remembered the woman in the powder room.
He will get bored.
Not warning.
Testing.
Roland continued.
“Sixteen years ago, Vincent Cross and my father controlled import operations together. Evelyn discovered money missing from legitimate accounts.”
“How much?”
“Eleven million.”
Norah laughed without humor.
“Apparently everyone in this city discovers crime through accounting.”
Roland almost smiled.
It died.
“She came to me.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“You were already involved?”
“Yes.”
“Did she trust you?”
“Yes.”
“Should she have?”
Roland looked at his hands.
“No.”
That answer hurt more than denial.
“What did you do?”
“I told my father.”
Norah stared.
“Why?”
“Because I still believed he could fix things without hurting her.”
“You were wrong.”
“Yes.”
The car was silent except for rain.
“Vincent learned Evelyn had copied the books. He wanted the records.”
“Did she have them?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“We never found them.”
Norah thought of Dominic’s words.
Something your mother has spent sixteen years hiding.
“My mother has them.”
“Maybe.”
“You knew she existed?”
“I knew Evelyn had a sister named Marianne Hart.”
Norah’s mother.
“Did you look for her?”
Roland hesitated.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After Evelyn died.”
Norah went cold.
“My mother changed our name.”
“Hart to Walsh?”
“Yes.”
Norah Walsh had become Norah Hart again at twenty-one after her mother remarried and Norah chose the family name she remembered from childhood.
Roland could not have known.
That made his denial more believable.
She hated that too.
“So the wrong number really was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“But Dominic knew.”
“Apparently.”
“He paid Liam to set it up.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted you near me.”
Norah stared.
“To make me look human?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Roland’s expression hardened.
“To make me find your mother for him.”
The pieces moved.
Dominic could not locate Marianne Hart.
But he could identify Norah.
He could manipulate Liam into giving her Thomas’s confiscated burner.
He could trust the bizarre text to reach Roland.
And perhaps count on Roland’s curiosity.
Except—
“He could not know you'd invite me over.”
“No.”
“What if you had ignored me?”
“I almost did.”
That stung unexpectedly.
Roland looked at her.
“Then you sent the second message.”
Norah remembered.
Liam was an idiot who couldn't even fake a number correctly.
Roland had answered.
Don't apologize.
Maybe Dominic knew enough about Roland to predict compassion disguised as irritation.
“That is insane.”
“Yes.”
“Did Dominic know about your fake-girlfriend idea too?”
“No.”
“Then he got lucky.”
“Or he knew I needed a public companion.”
Norah stared.
“How would he know?”
Roland’s face became still.
“Someone close to me told him.”
Another betrayal.
Of course.
The car reached the tower.
Norah did not move when the door opened.
“I’m going home.”
Roland looked at her.
“That apartment may not be safe.”
“You do not get to decide.”
“No.”
She blinked.
“I was going to say I can have someone check it first.”
“Oh.”
She hated that she had expected control.
He noticed.
“Norah.”
“What?”
“You can leave.”
The sentence should not have mattered.
It did.
“You already paid me.”
“For three events.”
“I've done one.”
“You can return whatever you think is fair.”
She stared.
“You're letting me out of the arrangement.”
“It stopped being what I offered.”
Camouflage had become bait.
Roland would not pretend otherwise.
That was the first moment Norah understood that dangerous and dishonest were not always the same thing.
Liam had been less dangerous.
Liam had lied constantly.
“Check my apartment.”
Roland nodded.
“I want to go home after.”
“If it’s clear.”
“That sounds like an order.”
“It is a safety assessment.”
“Annoying.”
“Yes.”
His men cleared the apartment by midnight.
No entry.
No cameras.
No people.
Roland drove her there himself.
At the curb, she reached for the door.
“Norah.”
She looked back.
He held out the photograph Dominic left.
Evelyn Hart.
Her aunt.
Norah took it.
“She looks like Mom.”
“Yes.”
“You kept a copy.”
“Yes.”
“For sixteen years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Roland’s eyes lowered.
“Because guilt has a memory.”
Norah got out.
She climbed two flights.
Opened her apartment.
The silver earring still sat beside the sink.
She picked it up.
Cheap.
Sharp post.
Not Liam’s mistress’s earring.
A prop.
She laughed bitterly.
Then threw it in the trash.
At 2:14 a.m., her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Norah?”
Her mother.
Norah sat upright.
“Mom?”
Marianne Hart lived in Vermont.
Or claimed to.
They spoke every Sunday.
Her voice sounded frightened.
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“No, leave.”
Norah’s heart stopped.
“What?”
“Leave the apartment now.”
“Mom.”
“Do not pack. Do not call police.”
Norah stood.
“What is happening?”
A sound came through the phone.
A door shutting.
Her mother lowered her voice.
“Did you meet Roland Hayes?”
Norah went cold.
“How do you know?”
Marianne started crying.
“Because sixteen years ago I prayed he would never find you.”
The room disappeared.
“Why?”
“Norah, listen to me.”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
“You tell me why.”
A pause.
“Because Evelyn did not die with the evidence.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“How?”
“Dominic Russo.”
Marianne whispered something that sounded like a prayer.
“Mom.”
“I have the ledger.”
Norah closed her eyes.
Of course.
“Where?”
“I moved it.”
“Where?”
Her mother cried.
“To you.”
Norah froze.
“What?”
“Three years ago.”
“I don't have anything.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Mom.”
“The music box.”
Norah looked toward the bookshelf.
A small wooden box sat beside old paperbacks.
Her mother mailed it on Norah’s birthday three years earlier.
It played a tinny version of Moon River.
Norah crossed the room.
“Don't open it.”
She stopped.
“Why?”
“Because if anyone is watching, they need to believe you don't know.”
Her skin went cold.
“Who is watching?”
The line crackled.
Then a man’s voice in the background.
Marianne inhaled sharply.
“Mom?”
“Go to Roland.”
“What?”
“Go now.”
“You just said you prayed he would never find me.”
“I was wrong.”
“About what?”
Marianne’s voice broke.
“About who killed Evelyn.”
The line cut.
Norah stared at the phone.
Then the front door handle moved.
Once.
Slowly.
Someone was outside.
She backed away.
The handle moved again.
A key entered the lock.
Norah looked at the fire escape.
Third floor.
Rain.
Possible.
Then her phone lit.
ROLAND.
She answered without speaking.
His voice came immediately.
“Do not open your door.”
Her blood turned cold.
“How do you know?”
“I had a car remain on your block.”
“You said the apartment was clear.”
“It was.”
The lock turned.
Norah ran toward the window.
Roland said, “Bathroom. Lock it.”
She obeyed.
The apartment door opened.
Footsteps.
Slow.
A man walked inside.
Roland’s voice stayed in her ear.
“My people are coming up.”
Norah crouched beside the tub.
The bathroom door handle moved.
Once.
Then stopped.
A man's voice spoke through the wood.
“Norah.”
Liam.
She closed her eyes.
“Come on, babe.”
Her skin crawled.
Roland heard.
“Stay silent.”
Liam tried the handle.
Locked.
He laughed softly.
“You really think Hayes cares about you?”
Norah gripped the phone.
“He killed your aunt.”
Roland’s breathing changed in her ear.
Liam continued.
“Dominic showed me everything.”
Norah said nothing.
“He'll kill you too once he gets the book.”
Footsteps thundered in the apartment.
Liam cursed.
A crash.
Shouting.
Then silence.
Roland said, “Norah?”
“I’m here.”
“Stay there.”
Minutes later, someone knocked.
Three times.
Roland’s voice through the phone.
“It's me.”
Norah opened the door.
Liam lay restrained in the living room.
One of Roland’s men held him.
His face was bloody.
Not badly.
Enough.
Norah looked at Roland.
“You came.”
He stared.
“You called.”
“I didn't.”
“No.”
He looked at the phone in her hand.
“I called first.”
Because he had left people watching.
Not secretly inside.
Outside.
Protection she had not requested.
A boundary she would deal with later.
Right now her mother was in danger.
“Mom has the ledger.”
Roland went still.
“She says she sent it to me three years ago.”
“Where?”
Norah looked at the music box.
Roland followed her gaze.
Liam laughed from the floor.
Everyone turned.
“You idiots.”
Norah’s stomach dropped.
“What?”
Liam smiled through blood.
“The music box is empty.”
Norah stared.
“How do you know?”
“Because I opened it last year.”
The room went silent.
Roland’s face became ice.
Norah stepped toward Liam.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you keep searching?”
“Because there was supposed to be a key.”
“To what?”
Liam looked at Roland.
“Ask him about Pier Nine.”
Roland stopped breathing.
Norah turned.
“What is Pier Nine?”
Roland did not answer.
May you like
Liam smiled.
“The place Evelyn Hart really died.”
