Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Photograph
For several seconds, Richard couldn't hear the ambulance sirens.
He couldn't feel the bandage being tightened around his arm.
All he could see was Caroline's face.
And all he could hear was her confession.
I helped him.
Brooks watched the video twice.
Then she handed the phone back.
"That statement was made under obvious coercion."
Richard said nothing.
"Mr. Blackwood?"
"She said she helped Andrew."
"That doesn't mean she did."
"You didn't know Caroline."
Brooks leaned closer.
"Then tell me who she was."
Richard looked at Oliver.
The boy had finally fallen asleep beneath a hospital blanket.
His little hands were still curled around Caroline's locket.
Richard lowered his voice.
"She was the person who made me believe money couldn't solve everything."
He looked out the ambulance window.
"She used to argue with me about the company."
"Why?"
"Because I trusted my brother."
Brooks waited.
Richard swallowed.
"About six months before the accident, Caroline found irregular payments in our charitable foundation."
"How much?"
"At first, eighty thousand dollars."
"And later?"
"Almost six million."
Brooks sat straighter.
"Was it reported?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because Andrew convinced me it was an accounting error."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Caroline wasn't convinced."
Brooks wrote something down.
"What happened next?"
Richard remembered an argument in their kitchen.
Caroline standing by the sink.
A stack of documents in her hands.
Her eyes shining with anger.
"Richard, your brother is stealing from you."
Andrew had laughed when Richard confronted him.
Then Caroline apologized for accusing him without sufficient proof.
Two weeks later, she died.
Richard had always remembered the apology.
He had forgotten the fear in her eyes.
"I need our foundation's financial records."
Brooks nodded.
"I'll request them through the investigation."
Richard looked toward Oliver.
"What about my son?"
"Child protection specialists will speak with him. We'll arrange a safe location."
"No more strangers taking him away."
"We can work with that."
At the hospital, surgeons determined that Richard's wound was superficial.
The bullet had passed through muscle without striking bone.
The doctor wanted him to remain for observation.
Richard wanted to leave.
Brooks made the decision easier.
"Your brother's car was found near a private airport."
Richard stood.
"He's leaving?"
"The aircraft hasn't departed."
"Then arrest him."
"We're working on warrants."
Richard grabbed his jacket.
Brooks blocked the door.
"You're not going after him."
"My wife is alive."
"And you'll do her no good if you get yourself killed."
He stared at her.
She didn't blink.
For the first time that night, Richard listened.
An hour later, Oliver woke screaming.
"No! Don't close it!"
Richard hurried to his bedside.
"Buddy, I'm here."
Oliver clutched his hand.
"She put me in the closet."
"Who?"
"Victoria."
Richard sat beside him.
"You're safe now."
Oliver shook his head.
"She said the lady in the basement was dangerous."
"Did you see her?"
"Only once."
Richard's heart pounded.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"Tell me."
Oliver pulled his knees against his chest.
"I was looking for my blue train. I thought it rolled behind the wine shelves."
Richard remembered that train.
Oliver had carried it everywhere when he was younger.
"There was a door."
"What happened?"
"I heard crying."
Richard waited.
"I knocked."
Oliver looked at the locket.
"A lady said, 'Oliver?'"
Richard's throat tightened.
"Then?"
"I asked who she was."
His son began crying.
"She said she was my mommy."
Richard leaned forward.
"Did you recognize her?"
"She sounded different."
Oliver wiped his nose.
"But she knew about Captain Buttons."
Richard stopped breathing.
Captain Buttons.
The stuffed rabbit Caroline had made for Oliver before he was born.
The rabbit with one crooked ear.
The toy Richard had buried with her because Oliver believed his mother shouldn't be alone.
"What did she say about him?"
Oliver looked at his father.
"She said his ear was crooked because Daddy didn't know how to sew."
Richard pressed his fist against his mouth.
It was true.
He had stitched the rabbit's ear himself while Caroline was pregnant.
Only three people knew.
Richard.
Caroline.
And the woman who had taught him how to sew.
His mother.
Dead for eight years.
Caroline was alive.
There could be no other explanation.
Oliver continued.
"Then Victoria opened the door."
Richard's pulse quickened.
"Did she see you?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"She screamed at the lady."
"What did she say?"
Oliver hesitated.
"'You weren't supposed to tell him.'"
"And then?"
"She grabbed me."
Richard looked at the bruises on his son's wrists.
"She tied me to the bed in the guest room."
His voice turned rough.
"Did she hurt you?"
Oliver stared at the blanket.
"She said bad boys don't get dinner."
Richard closed his eyes.
He remembered leaving for a business trip two weeks earlier.
Victoria had told him Oliver was refusing meals.
She had sounded exhausted.
Richard had told her to be patient.
He had apologized for not being home more often.
The memory made him sick.
"Oliver, listen to me."
The boy looked up.
"None of this was your fault."
"Even when I broke the vase?"
"Even then."
"Even when Victoria said I was making Daddy unhappy?"
Richard pulled him into his arms.
"You are the best thing that ever happened to me."
Oliver began sobbing.
Richard held him until the trembling stopped.
Then the boy whispered something else.
"The lady gave me a card."
Richard looked down.
"The memory card?"
Oliver nodded.
"She pushed it under the door."
"What did she say?"
"She said to give it to Daddy before the party."
"Anything else?"
Oliver reached into the pocket of his tuxedo.
He pulled out a folded yellow sticky note.
Richard opened it.
Three words were written on the paper.
ASK ABOUT MAYFIELD.
Richard knew the name.
Mayfield Medical Center.
A private psychiatric facility outside Boston.
The same facility where Caroline had supposedly received treatment for postpartum depression.
The same facility Andrew had recommended.
The same facility whose records had disappeared after Caroline's death.
Richard looked up as Detective Brooks entered the room.
"Detective, I know where we need to start."
She closed the door behind her.
"That's interesting."
Richard frowned.
"Why?"
Brooks placed a photograph on the table.
It showed a young woman standing beside Andrew Blackwood.
"Because Mayfield's former medical director was found dead this morning."
Richard studied the woman's face.
He recognized her.
Not from Mayfield.
May you like
From his wedding to Victoria.
She had been the maid of honor.
