Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Hale ordered everyone to stay in position.
Claire wanted to run into the garage.
Vivienne physically blocked the surveillance room door.
“Don’t.”
“My mother might be alive.”
“And Julian has a gun.”
Claire stared at the monitor.
Conrad stood beside the elevator with his hands visible.
Julian’s weapon remained pointed at his chest.
The garage microphones captured every few words.
“You promised…”
“…after the highway…”
“…Crestline…”
Then Conrad said clearly.
“Eleanor became useful.”
Claire’s stomach turned.
Useful.
Not alive.
Not a person.
Useful.
Julian stepped closer.
“Where is she?”
Conrad laughed.
“You suddenly care?”
“I warned her.”
“Yes.”
“And then you helped me bury her.”
Julian’s face changed.
Claire felt a strange kind of horror.
The man who had destroyed her life had once tried to save her mother.
Then he had helped erase her anyway.
Conrad continued.
“You always wanted to believe one decent decision canceled ten indecent ones.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
“From whom?”
“You.”
The elevator opened.
Two officers emerged.
“HANDS.”
Julian spun.
Conrad dropped.
Julian fired once toward the ceiling and ran.
Officers pursued.
Claire flinched at the gunshot.
Hale rushed from the surveillance room.
“Stay here.”
Claire ignored him two seconds later.
Vivienne followed.
They reached the garage as Conrad was being handcuffed.
He looked almost amused.
Vivienne stopped in front of him.
“You killed my mother.”
Conrad looked at her.
“No.”
“You changed her medication.”
“No.”
“You stole from the company.”
“That depends on which accountant you ask.”
Vivienne slapped him.
The sound cracked through the garage.
Hale turned.
“Vivienne.”
She stepped back.
Conrad smiled faintly.
“Celeste would be disappointed.”
Vivienne’s eyes filled with fury.
“Do not say her name.”
Claire stepped forward.
“Where is Eleanor?”
Conrad looked at her for the first time.
His expression shifted.
Curiosity.
“You look like her.”
“Where?”
“You have Richard’s suspicion.”
Claire moved closer.
“And Eleanor’s eyes.”
“Where is my mother?”
Conrad smiled.
“Ask Julian.”
“He just asked you.”
“That was theater.”
Claire stopped.
“What?”
Conrad leaned toward her.
“Julian always performs best when he thinks someone is watching.”
Claire looked toward the cameras.
He had known.
“Why would he pretend?”
“To make you trust him.”
Claire’s pulse quickened.
Conrad continued.
“He knows you are sentimental.”
“He knows hearing that he warned Eleanor makes you question whether he was always evil.”
Claire hated how accurate that was.
“Where is she?”
Conrad’s smile disappeared.
“I don’t know.”
Claire stared.
“You just said she’s alive.”
“I said she has been alive.”
“Past tense?”
Conrad looked away.
Claire grabbed his coat.
Hale stepped closer but did not stop her.
“When did you last see her?”
“Six years ago.”
Claire’s breath caught.
“Where?”
“Switzerland.”
“Why?”
“She had something I wanted.”
“The founder documents?”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill her?”
“No.”
“Did Julian?”
Conrad looked at her again.
“You are still asking the wrong question.”
“What is the right one?”
“Why did your mother refuse to come home?”
Claire’s grip loosened.
Conrad saw the pain and used it.
“She knew Richard survived.”
“She knew you were alive.”
“She could have returned.”
“She chose not to.”
Claire slapped him.
Hard.
Conrad’s head turned.
Hale pulled Claire back.
“Enough.”
Claire shook.
“He’s lying.”
Richard’s voice came from behind.
“Probably.”
Claire turned.
Her father had arrived with an agent.
Richard faced Conrad.
Conrad smiled.
“Richard.”
“Conrad.”
“You look terrible.”
“You look arrested.”
For the first time, Conrad’s smile vanished.
Richard stepped closer.
“Where is Eleanor?”
Conrad said nothing.
Richard’s voice lowered.
“I spent seven years blaming myself.”
“If you know where she went, tell Claire.”
Conrad stared at him.
Then said.
“Geneva.”
“Six years ago.”
“She used the name Anna Reed.”
Richard froze.
Reed.
The same surname he used as Elias Reed.
Claire saw the realization.
“Mom chose the same alias system?”
Richard whispered.
“No.”
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
“I didn’t choose Reed.”
“Who did?”
Richard stared at Conrad.
“Julian.”
Claire felt cold.
Julian had given Richard his false identity.
Anna Reed.
Elias Reed.
He had placed both of Claire’s parents into the same hidden identity network.
Why?
Conrad laughed softly.
“Now you’re getting there.”
Hale pushed him toward officers.
“That conversation continues downtown.”
Conrad looked back at Claire.
“Check Julian’s first passport.”
Then he was taken away.
Julian escaped the garage through a utility exit.
Police found his coat.
The gun.
No Julian.
But he left something else.
A phone.
Hale had technicians examine it.
Most data was wiped.
One photograph remained.
Claire stared at it.
A woman sat beside a lake.
Older.
Gray streaks in blonde hair.
Sunglasses.
The photograph was dated eight months earlier.
Claire knew the curve of the woman’s mouth.
Her hands.
The small gold bracelet Claire had given her for Mother’s Day at sixteen.
“Mom.”
Richard sat beside her.
He began crying.
“She’s alive.”
Claire enlarged the photograph.
A building stood behind Eleanor.
A sign was partly visible.
Maison Aurelia.
Vivienne searched.
“A private residential clinic near Lake Geneva.”
Claire’s heart raced.
“We go.”
Hale shook his head.
“You don’t fly to Switzerland tonight.”
“Watch me.”
“Claire.”
“She is my mother.”
“And Julian is missing.”
“Which is exactly why we go before he reaches her.”
Vivienne stepped in.
“My family has a plane.”
Hale stared.
“Of course you do.”
Within hours, federal authorities began coordinating with Swiss officials.
Claire did not sleep.
She sat beside Richard on Vivienne’s jet, staring at the photograph.
“Did you ever stop loving her?”
Richard looked out the window.
“No.”
“Even when you thought she died?”
“Especially then.”
Claire understood.
Love for a dead person was easy in one terrible way.
They could no longer disappoint you.
The living were more complicated.
By afternoon, they reached Geneva.
Maison Aurelia stood in a quiet village overlooking the lake.
Swiss police accompanied them.
The director checked records.
Anna Reed had lived there for nearly five years.
She left three months ago.
Claire’s hope collapsed.
“Where?”
The director hesitated.
“She left voluntarily.”
“With whom?”
“A man.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“Name?”
“He signed Julian Cross.”
Richard went white.
Claire closed her eyes.
Of course.
Julian had been here.
The director handed Claire a box.
“Mrs. Reed left this in case someone named Claire came.”
Inside was a scarf.
A journal.
And another photograph.
Claire opened the journal.
Her mother’s handwriting filled the pages.
The first entry was dated eleven years earlier.
I survived.
Celeste came for me.
Julian warned us Conrad had trackers on both cars.
We changed vehicles twice.
Celeste returned because if both of us disappeared, Conrad would know.
I hated letting Claire believe I died.
But Conrad had already threatened her.
Claire’s tears fell.
She kept reading.
Months later.
Richard is missing.
Julian says he survived.
I want to find Claire.
Julian says Conrad watches her constantly.
He says every contact puts her at risk.
Claire closed her eyes.
Julian had kept both parents away from her.
Each believing distance protected her.
Years passed in journal pages.
Eleanor grew suspicious.
Julian controlled information.
He claimed Claire was safe.
He sent photographs.
Then, three years ago.
Julian came today with terrible news.
Claire died in Marseille.
I did not believe him.
He showed me the certificate.
Crestline.
I laughed in his face.
I told him Crestline lies for Conrad.
He became angry.
For the first time, I saw fear in him.
Not fear of Conrad.
Fear of me knowing Claire might still be alive.
Claire gripped the journal.
Next entry.
I think Julian declared Claire dead himself.
I think he has betrayed all of us.
Then eight months ago.
Julian found me again.
He looks different.
Harder.
He says Conrad plans to kill Vivienne and consolidate the company.
He wants my help.
I told him I would rather trust a snake.
He said Claire is alive.
Claire stopped.
Eight months.
Before Julian staged his own death to Claire.
Her mother knew.
Final entry.
I saw her photograph.
Claire.
Working outside a pharmacy.
She is thin.
She looks tired.
But alive.
Julian says if I contact her, Conrad will find us both.
I no longer know whether Julian protects people or collects them.
Tomorrow, I leave this clinic.
I will find Claire myself.
The journal ended.
Claire looked at the director.
“She left with Julian?”
“Yes.”
“Three months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Did she seem afraid?”
The director thought.
“No.”
“She seemed angry.”
“That sounds like Mom.”
Richard almost smiled.
The director continued.
“She left a final message.”
“For Claire?”
“For Julian.”
Claire froze.
The director retrieved an envelope.
Julian,
If you ever cared about my daughter, you will stop deciding what truths she can survive.
Bring me to New York.
I am done hiding.
Claire stared.
Her mother had been returning home.
Three months ago.
She should have arrived.
She never did.
Hale received a call from the United States.
He stepped away.
When he returned, his expression was grim.
“Julian used a private aircraft from Geneva to Montreal three months ago.”
Claire stood.
“Passenger list?”
“Julian Cross.”
“Anna Reed.”
“Then?”
“They entered the United States by car.”
“Where?”
“Vermont.”
Claire remembered Julian’s parents.
“His family.”
Hale nodded.
They flew back immediately.
By the time they reached Vermont, night had fallen.
Julian’s childhood home stood outside Stowe.
Claire had spent Christmas there once.
His mother, Margaret, baked cinnamon rolls.
His father, Thomas, collected antique radios.
Claire remembered warmth.
Now every memory looked suspicious.
Police surrounded the property.
The front door stood open.
Inside, nobody.
The kitchen was clean.
Bedrooms empty.
Then Claire found a photograph on the refrigerator.
Recent.
Eleanor.
Margaret Cross.
Thomas Cross.
All three standing together.
Claire stared.
Julian’s parents had known her mother was alive.
A note was attached.
Claire,
If you found this, Julian failed to stop you.
Your mother left here six weeks ago.
She said she was going somewhere only you would think to look.
She told me to give you one sentence.
Remember where you first learned what home means.
Claire read it twice.
Richard whispered.
“What does that mean?”
Claire knew.
Not their old house.
Not Boston.
Not school.
Her grandmother’s cottage on the Maine coast.
The place Eleanor took Claire every summer.
The place Julian claimed had been sold after the estate collapsed.
Claire grabbed her coat.
Then Hale’s phone buzzed.
A financial alert.
Conrad’s accounts had begun transferring money overseas.
But Conrad was in custody.
Someone else was moving it.
Hale showed Claire the authorization.
JULIAN CROSS.
$640,000,000.
Destination.
Cayman Islands.
Claire stared.
Julian was not running toward Eleanor.
May you like
He was emptying the empire before Claire could claim it.
And this time, if he succeeded, there might be nothing left to inherit but ruins.
