Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Julian stared at the message.
“What do they have?” Martha asked.
“I don’t know.”
The phone buzzed again.
A photograph loaded.
Julian stopped breathing.
It showed a woman sitting in a chair.
Her hands were tied.
Her face was bruised.
Martha gasped.
“Oh my God.”
Julian knew her.
“Rachel.”
Rachel Pierce had worked for the Hale family for fifteen years.
House manager.
Friend.
The woman who had taken care of Martha during cancer treatment eight years earlier.
Rachel had gone home that afternoon.
Or so Julian thought.
The message continued.
CALL THE POLICE AND SHE DIES.
Martha stood.
“This is because of me.”
“No.”
“I confronted Bianca yesterday.”
Julian turned.
“You what?”
“I told her I knew she was lying.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
Julian stopped.
“When?”
“Last week.”
He remembered.
His mother had come into his office while Bianca was there.
Martha had said she needed to talk.
Bianca had laughed and said Martha was probably confused about her medication again.
Julian had told his mother they would speak later.
They never did.
Guilt hit him hard.
“I should’ve listened.”
“Yes.”
Her answer surprised him.
Martha’s eyes filled with tears.
“You should have.”
Julian lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
“For what?”
“For keeping the truth about your father from you.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Julian answered.
“Where is Rachel?”
Bianca laughed.
“You sound angry.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“I want to hear her voice.”
“You don’t get to make demands.”
“You tried to kill my mother.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“I heard you.”
“You heard a private conversation.”
“You were holding her underwater.”
“No, Julian. If I wanted Martha dead, she’d be dead.”
Martha flinched.
Julian’s grip tightened around the phone.
“What do you want?”
“The flash drive.”
Julian glanced at the laptop.
“How do you know I have it?”
“Because I left it.”
He frowned.
“Why?”
“To see what you’d do.”
“You wanted me to hear that recording?”
“Parts of it.”
Julian suddenly understood.
“It was edited.”
Bianca laughed softly.
“You’re smarter than you look.”
“What’s real?”
“Enough.”
“Where’s Rachel?”
“Bring me the drive.”
“Where?”
“I’ll text you.”
“If you hurt her—”
“You’ll what?”
Her voice turned cold.
“Destroy me?”
A pause.
“Julian, you still don’t understand.”
“What?”
“This started long before I met you.”
The call ended.
Martha shook her head.
“Don’t go.”
“I have to.”
“It’s a trap.”
“Of course it’s a trap.”
“Then call the police.”
“They’ll kill Rachel.”
“We don’t know that.”
“I’m not gambling with her life.”
Julian copied the drive onto his computer.
Then another backup.
He slipped the original into his pocket.
“You’re not going alone,” Martha said.
“You’re going to the hospital.”
“No.”
“You nearly drowned.”
“And I’m still your mother.”
Julian looked at her.
“Mom.”
“I lost your father because we kept secrets.”
Her voice broke.
“I won’t lose you the same way.”
Before Julian could answer, a police officer knocked.
“Mr. Hale?”
“Yes?”
“We found your fiancée’s car.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned two miles from here.”
Julian frowned.
“Anything inside?”
The officer hesitated.
“There was blood in the trunk.”
Martha went pale.
“Rachel?”
“We don’t know.”
Julian’s phone buzzed.
A new location appeared.
An abandoned greenhouse on the edge of the Hale estate.
Bianca had added one sentence.
COME ALONE.
Julian slipped the phone away.
“What was that?” the officer asked.
“Business.”
Martha stared at him.
She knew he was lying.
Twenty minutes later, Julian parked half a mile from the greenhouse.
He approached through the woods.
The old building had once belonged to his grandmother.
Broken glass covered the roof.
The door was open.
“Rachel?”
Nothing.
He stepped inside.
Plants had died years ago.
Dust hung in the air.
Then he heard crying.
“Julian?”
Rachel.
He ran toward the back.
She was tied to a chair exactly as shown in the photograph.
“Rachel.”
He cut the rope.
“Are you hurt?”
“Not badly.”
“Where’s Bianca?”
Rachel’s eyes widened.
“Behind you.”
Julian turned.
A man stood ten feet away holding a gun.
He was in his sixties.
Tall.
Gray hair.
A scar along his jaw.
Julian had never seen him before.
The man smiled.
“You look like Charles.”
Julian froze.
“You knew my father?”
“Very well.”
“Who are you?”
The man raised the gun.
“My name is Adrian Cole.”
Rachel whispered:
“Julian…”
May you like
Adrian smiled.
“And I’m the man your father was trying to expose the night he died.”
