Chapter 9 - Isabel's Photograph
Mateo sat on a bench in the potting shed because his legs would no longer hold him.
“Isabel was sixteen,” he said. “Dad thought she ran away. We searched bus stations for months.”
Adrian sat beside him. For the first time since coming home, he had nothing useful to say.
“She worked summers at the warehouse,” Mateo continued. “Your father called it a training program. We were proud she got in. Then she went to her shift one morning and never came home.”
“I was a teenager,” Adrian said. “I didn't know.”
“I know you didn't.” Mateo's face crumpled. “That's the worst part. Your mother helped me look. She paid for flyers. She kept calling every year, even when I stopped picking up.”
Deputy Harris studied the photograph. “These may be people connected to a broader investigation. I'll have the missing-person cases reviewed.”
Nora found Margaret's old calendar in the study. On the day before her last hospitalization, she'd written two words: SERA / 417.
A bank named Sera Financial had closed its local branch three months earlier. Nora traced its safe-deposit holdings to a regional office in Wilmington.
By noon, a court order was being requested to preserve the box and its records. Adrian's business attorney urged discretion, reminding him how much damage public allegations could cause.
“Damage to whom?” Adrian asked.
“Your name. Your shareholders.”
“Then they can hear the truth at the same time I do.”
That evening, Lucy approached him by the staircase. “Mr. Blackthorn? My mom used to hum when she was worried.”
He nodded, unsure where she was going.
“I heard somebody humming that song from the old greenhouse last night.”
May you like
Adrian's heart jumped. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. And there was a light in the basement after everyone went to bed.”
