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Chapter 11 - The Name on the Order

The next day, the sisters sat in a police interview room while Ruiz reviewed the evidence with the district attorney. The room had no windows, only a clock that ticked too loudly.

Claire kept seeing the line on the page.

No witnesses.

“Did my father order someone to kill Rosa?” Lena asked.

“We don't know yet,” Ruiz said. “The wording is serious, but we need the person who carried out the order.”

“Who was it?” Claire asked.

Ruiz placed a photograph on the table. It showed a man in his fifties outside the studio. His name was Frank Dwyer, a former security contractor who had worked for both the Whitmore and Mercer families.

“He's alive,” Ruiz said. “He lives outside the city. We're bringing him in.”

Lena looked sick. “My mother trusted him.”

“He was paid to remove her from the building,” Ruiz said. “We need to know what that means.”

A knock sounded. An officer entered and handed Ruiz a note.

“Dwyer's lawyer says he'll talk,” the officer said. “But only to the daughters.”

Claire and Lena exchanged a look.

“Why us?” Claire asked.

“He says he owes Rosa's daughter an apology.”

The interview took place in a secure room. Frank Dwyer entered slowly, leaning on a cane. His face was lined, his eyes restless.

Lena stood. “You knew my mother.”

He nodded. “She was a good woman.”

“Then why did you leave her in that building?”

Frank looked down. “I didn't.”

Claire frowned. “The order says no witnesses.”

“I was told to get the papers. When I reached the studio, the fire had already started. Rosa was trapped in the back room. I got her out.”

Lena's breath caught.

“You saved her?”

“I tried. She was hurt. I put her in my car and drove her to a clinic. By the time I came back, the building was gone.”

“Then where did she go?” Lena asked.

Frank's eyes filled.

“She didn't die that night.”

The room went still.

Frank reached into his jacket and placed a folded document on the table.

“Your mother lived for eleven more years,” he said. “And she left you a message.”

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Lena replayed the video twice, as if a third viewing might change the words. Claire did not tell her to stop. She knew what it was to want one more minute with a voice that could no longer answer. Their mothers had left them a truth, but not the chance to ask follow-up questions. That was the cruelest part of inheritance.

THE DRESS FULL OF SECRETS |

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