Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS NEVER CHOSEN|
Evelyn Vale stood in Dante's records room as though she owned the mansion.
She wore a cream silk blouse, tailored black trousers, and the kind of diamond earrings that cost more than most families earned in a year.
Her blonde hair fell neatly over one shoulder.
Even with two security officers standing beside her, she appeared perfectly composed.
Leonard Pike looked considerably less comfortable.
The elderly attorney sat in a leather chair with his briefcase balanced across his knees.
His forehead glistened with sweat.
When Dante entered, Pike immediately stood.
"Mr. Caruso, there's been a terrible misunderstanding."
Dante said nothing.
He had insisted that Maren remain upstairs while the doctor returned to check her wounds.
She had agreed on one condition.
Nico would record the entire conversation, and Dante would tell her everything afterward.
For once, Dante hadn't argued.
Evelyn smiled.
"Dante."
He looked at her without warmth.
"Explain why you're inside my house."
"I came to help."
"By breaking into my records room?"
"Leonard has always had access."
Dante turned toward Pike.
"Not anymore."
Pike swallowed.
"Your father granted me permanent authorization."
"My father has been dead for six years."
"His instructions—"
"Ended when he did."
Evelyn gave a soft laugh.
"Still charming, I see."
Dante ignored her.
"What are you looking for?"
Pike clutched his briefcase.
"Documents concerning the warehouse fire."
"Why?"
Evelyn stepped forward.
"Because somebody is trying to frame us."
Dante studied her.
"Us?"
"Leonard and me."
"What makes you think I care?"
Her smile thinned.
"Because the photograph sent to you tonight wasn't the only one."
She reached into her handbag.
Nico moved immediately.
"Hands where I can see them."
Evelyn rolled her eyes.
"It's an envelope, not a weapon."
She placed a thick white envelope on the desk.
Inside were photographs.
Maren entering the chapel.
Maren leaving through the garden.
Maren sitting alone beneath the olive tree beside the cemetery.
Dante examined each image.
His stomach tightened.
The pictures covered several months.
Someone had documented his wife's movements with extraordinary care.
"Where did you get these?"
"They arrived at my office."
"When?"
"This afternoon."
"Who sent them?"
"There's no return address."
Dante looked at Nico.
"Have the envelope examined."
Nico collected it.
Evelyn crossed her arms.
"I assumed you would be grateful."
"For what?"
"For warning you that someone is using your wife against you."
Dante stepped closer.
"Careful."
Her expression sharpened.
"You weren't this protective when you abandoned her for a year."
The accusation struck its target.
Dante felt it.
So did Evelyn.
Her smile returned.
"Apparently, I've touched a nerve."
Dante forced himself to remain calm.
"Tell me what you know about the fire."
Evelyn looked toward Pike.
The attorney lowered his gaze.
"Leonard?"
Pike cleared his throat.
"There were irregularities in the warehouse accounts before the incident."
"What irregularities?"
"Discrepancies involving the medical transport division."
Dante frowned.
"That division was managed by Adrian Voss."
"Yes."
"And Adrian died in the fire."
Pike hesitated.
"That's what the official report says."
The room became very quiet.
Dante stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
Pike wiped his forehead.
"It means there were questions about the identification."
"Questions you never told me about?"
"The remains were badly damaged."
Dante took another step forward.
"Answer me."
Pike's voice trembled.
"The identification was based partly on personal effects."
Dante felt a slow, dangerous understanding take shape.
A wedding ring.
A watch.
A wallet.
Things that could be moved from one person to another.
"You're telling me Adrian Voss might be alive."
Pike said nothing.
Dante looked toward Evelyn.
She no longer appeared amused.
"How long have you known?"
She lifted her chin.
"I suspected."
"How long?"
"Since last winter."
Dante laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Nine months."
"Dante—"
"Nine months, Evelyn?"
She looked away.
"I couldn't prove it."
"But you could visit my wife and ask about her prayers."
Her face changed.
Pike suddenly became interested in the carpet.
Evelyn recovered quickly.
"Maren wasn't in danger from me."
"Then why did you go to her?"
"Because I was worried."
"About what?"
Evelyn's eyes flashed.
"About you marrying a woman whose father practically sold her to settle a debt."
Dante went still.
Nico moved a fraction closer.
But Dante's voice remained quiet.
"Don't speak about my wife that way."
Evelyn looked surprised.
Then angry.
"You barely knew her."
"I know her now."
"You've been married fourteen months."
"And that gives you no right to discuss her."
Evelyn's composure cracked.
"Your father wanted our families united."
"My father wanted many things."
"Our marriage would have protected the business."
"My marriage is not a business contract anymore."
She stared at him.
"Since when?"
Dante thought of Maren's notebook.
The dates.
The prayers.
The final sentence written hours before he found her.
"Since I learned the difference."
For the first time, Evelyn looked genuinely wounded.
Pike cleared his throat.
"Mr. Caruso, perhaps we should focus on the documents."
Dante turned toward him.
"Give me everything."
Pike hesitated.
"Some material could damage your family's reputation."
Dante gave him a cold smile.
"Leonard, my reputation isn't what concerns me tonight."
"What does?"
"My wife's safety."
Pike slowly opened his briefcase.
Inside was a sealed folder marked with the name of Caruso Medical Logistics.
He placed it on the desk.
Nico opened the folder while Dante watched.
There were shipping manifests, bank transfer records, and copies of internal correspondence.
Several pages carried Adrian Voss's signature.
Then Nico found a hospital payment record.
He frowned.
"Boss."
Dante took it.
The payment had been issued the morning after the warehouse fire.
It was addressed to a private medical facility outside Milwaukee.
The recipient's name was concealed behind a corporate identification number.
But the authorization signature was unmistakable.
Leonard Pike.
Dante looked up.
"You paid to keep someone alive."
Pike went pale.
"It wasn't what you think."
"Who?"
"I was instructed not to reveal—"
"Who, Leonard?"
Pike's voice broke.
"Adrian."
Silence followed.
Dante looked at the document again.
The man he had mourned was alive.
The explosion that nearly killed him had taken six other lives.
And his father's trusted attorney had helped conceal the person most likely responsible.
"Where is he?"
Pike shook his head.
"I don't know anymore."
Dante looked at Evelyn.
"And you?"
She hesitated.
"I know where he was three weeks ago."
"Tell me."
"First, I want protection."
Dante's expression did not change.
"You'll receive lawful protection if you're cooperating with investigators."
Evelyn blinked.
"Investigators?"
"Police."
Pike nearly dropped his briefcase.
"Mr. Caruso, that would expose confidential—"
"Six people died in that fire."
Dante's voice rose for the first time.
"Six families buried people they loved."
He pointed toward the records.
"And my wife has been living in fear because every person in this room thought secrets were more important than the truth."
Evelyn stared at him.
"You've changed."
Dante looked toward the ceiling, where Maren was resting.
"Not enough."
His phone vibrated.
A message from Bennett appeared.
MAREN'S CONDITION IS STABLE, BUT THERE'S SOMETHING YOU NEED TO KNOW.
Dante immediately called him.
"Doctor?"
Bennett sounded troubled.
"Her injuries will heal with proper care."
Dante exhaled.
"Then what's wrong?"
"I asked her about her medical history."
"And?"
"She told me she had a serious fall approximately eight months ago."
Dante closed his eyes.
"What fall?"
"Down the eastern staircase."
His grip tightened.
"She never told me."
Bennett hesitated.
"She said someone pushed past her while she was carrying laundry."
Dante's heart began to pound.
"Who?"
"She wouldn't say."
A pause.
"But when I asked whether she felt safe inside the house, she started crying."
Dante looked across the room.
May you like
Evelyn stood perfectly still.
And for the first time, he wondered whether the photographs were only part of the cruelty his wife had endured.
