Chapter 5 - My Mother's Secret
I called my mother at 1:38 in the morning.
She answered on the second ring.
"Elena?"
Her voice sounded tired.
"Why are you calling so late?"
"Mom, where were you last Thursday?"
Silence.
Then she said, "At home."
"All day?"
"Yes."
I stared at the photograph.
"Please don't lie to me."
Another silence.
"Elena, what happened?"
"I have a picture of you outside the Belmont Hotel."
"You were standing near Richard Ashford."
I heard a sharp breath.
Then the line went dead.
I called again.
No answer.
Julian was watching me.
"Does your mother know Richard?"
"I don't know."
"Elena."
"I don't know!"
My voice cracked.
I had spent eleven months pretending to be a quiet employee while investigating my father's death.
Every day, I sent my mother messages telling her I was working at a private home in Westchester.
I never told her whose house.
I thought I was protecting her.
Now I wondered whether she had been protecting me from something much bigger.
Julian took the photograph.
"We need to tell Monroe."
"And Marcus?"
"We say nothing to him."
Julian crossed the room and turned the lock.
"Until we know whose side he's on."
I looked at the notebook.
"What if your father knew all along?"
Julian rubbed his forehead.
"Knew what?"
"That Richard was alive."
"That Victoria was involved."
"That Marcus was helping them."
"Why wouldn't he tell you?"
Julian sat heavily.
"My father and I barely spoke during his last year."
"Why?"
"Because I married Victoria."
I waited.
He looked at the floor.
"He hated her from the beginning."
"He said she was interested in the Ashford name, not me."
"Maybe he was right."
Julian shook his head.
"No."
"Not just about that."
"He told me she'd destroyed something I could never get back."
"What?"
"He wouldn't say."
I thought about my father's letter.
The financial records.
My mother.
Richard.
Then I asked a question.
"Did your father know mine was innocent?"
Julian didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he whispered, "Yes."
Everything inside me went still.
"You knew?"
"I found out after Daniel died."
"And you never came to my family?"
Julian looked up.
"Elena, I was told the case had been reopened privately."
"That your family had received a settlement."
I almost laughed.
"A settlement?"
"We spent three winters in an apartment with a broken heater."
"My mother worked overnight shifts cleaning hospital rooms."
"I dropped out of college."
I stepped toward him.
"Who told you we received money?"
Julian's face darkened.
"Victoria."
I turned away.
For years, I had believed the Ashford family had simply abandoned us.
Now I was beginning to understand how carefully that abandonment had been arranged.
At 2:06 a.m., Detective Monroe returned to the house.
I showed her the photograph.
She examined it.
Then she looked at me.
"Your mother is named Teresa Morales?"
"Yes."
Monroe closed her notebook.
"We need to locate her immediately."
"Why?"
"Because earlier this evening, someone attempted to access a sealed file connected to your father's investigation."
I felt my stomach twist.
"What file?"
"The application for a federal witness protection arrangement."
I stared at her.
"My mother isn't in witness protection."
Monroe said nothing.
Julian stood.
"Detective, explain."
She hesitated.
Then she pulled out her phone.
On the screen was a federal records notice.
It listed a protected witness under a different name.
Theresa Martin.
My mother's photograph appeared below it.
"She entered a protected-witness program seven years ago," Monroe said.
"She left it without authorization eighteen months later."
I shook my head.
"No."
"She lived with me."
"She was home every day."
"That does not mean she told you everything."
My phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
I answered immediately.
"Mom?"
A man's voice replied.
"Your mother is safe for now."
My throat tightened.
"Who is this?"
"You've already seen my photograph."
Richard Ashford.
I couldn't speak.
He continued.
"If you want her alive, stop looking through my father's notebook."
The call ended.
Then a message appeared.
A photograph of my mother sitting in a chair.
May you like
Her hands were tied behind her back.
And on the wall behind her was a framed portrait of Julian Ashford's dead father.
