Chapter 9 - TWO GRAVES
The detectives reached the cemetery first. They found Teresa’s car near a side entrance, keys still in the ignition.
No sign of Teresa.
Alessandro and Mara arrived ten minutes later. Wind dragged dry leaves across the paths. The cemetery manager led them to the grave in Victoria’s photograph.
TERESA MORALES. 1961–2008.
Teresa was standing beside them, breathing somewhere in the world, or Mara hoped she was. The stone made her feel sick.
The manager checked his records. “There’s a sealed burial file. I can’t open it without the proper order.”
Naomi nodded. “The detectives are working on that.”
Mara walked along the row. Three plots away stood another marker.
ISABELLA ROMANO. 1967–2008.
She had seen photographs of Alessandro at this grave. He was twenty-nine in them, dressed in black, staring at a name that had never belonged to the person beneath it.
A groundskeeper approached with a sealed envelope. “A woman asked me to give this to the girl with the silver necklace.”
“When?” Mara asked.
“About half an hour ago.”
“Did she say her name?”
“No. She looked scared. Another woman was waiting in a car.”
Inside the envelope was a small brass key and a receipt from a storage facility. On the back, someone had written:
I COULDN’T TELL YOU WITH HER BESIDE ME. I’M SORRY. —MOM
Victoria had been sitting next to Isabella in the car. Isabella had found a way to leave them a message anyway.
Naomi called the facility. The unit was registered to Helen Vale, Victoria’s mother. Rent had been paid through the end of the month.
As they hurried back toward their cars, Alessandro stopped.
Someone had left flowers on Isabella’s grave that morning. Their stems were still wet.
Tucked beneath them was a second note, this one addressed to him.
YOUR FATHER DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT MARA UNTIL TODAY. I KEPT ONE CHILD FROM HIM. I COULDN’T SAVE THE OTHER.
Alessandro read it in silence.
Mara watched his face. “That’s from her.”
“I know.”
For eighteen years he had believed Isabella chose to leave him. Now he held her own words saying she had spent those years regretting it.
His phone rang. The caller ID showed his father.
May you like
Alessandro answered without greeting.
Enzo said, “If you open Helen Vale’s storage unit, your mother won’t make it home.”
