Chapter 1 - THE PICTURE IN THE LIBRARY
My three daughters walked toward the library as if they had made the journey together many times before.
I followed them without speaking.
Grace Bennett stayed close behind Nora.
The little girl kept one hand wrapped around the housekeeper’s fingers.
Fourteen months.
For fourteen months, I had spent almost every waking hour wondering what might make my daughters speak again.
Now that they finally had, I was terrified of what they were going to say.
Olivia reached the library first.
She stopped outside the double walnut doors.
Her shoulders tightened.
Sophie moved beside her.
Nora pressed herself against Grace’s skirt.
I looked at Grace.
“What happened in here?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said they’ve been coming here?”
“Only twice.”
Grace swallowed.
“They never stayed long.”
I pushed open the doors.
Nothing looked unusual.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves covered three walls.
The afternoon light came through tall windows facing the back gardens.
My desk sat exactly where it always had.
Isabelle’s photograph stood beside my computer.
I had never moved it.
She was smiling at the camera during our last summer in Montauk.
Olivia walked past the desk.
“No.”
Her voice stopped me.
It was the first time she had spoken directly to me in fourteen months.
I could barely breathe.
“No what, sweetheart?”
She pointed toward the wall.
“The other picture.”
There were dozens.
Family photographs.
Business dinners.
Charity events.
Birthdays.
Weddings.
Three generations of Romanos stared back at us from polished frames.
Sophie walked toward a photograph taken at our home the previous Christmas.
The Christmas before Isabelle died.
I remembered the evening immediately.
My younger brother Anthony stood beside me.
My mother, Elena, sat near the fireplace.
My cousin Vincent was holding a glass of champagne.
Isabelle stood behind the girls.
Our security director, Carlo DeLuca, was visible in the background.
Several employees had been caught in the picture as well.
Sophie raised her finger.
“There.”
She pointed at the far right side.
At first I saw nothing.
Then I stepped closer.
Someone stood partially hidden behind the doorway.
A man.
Only half his face was visible.
Dark hair.
Gray suit.
A silver watch.
I knew that watch.
I had given it to one of the men I trusted most.
“Uncle Anthony,” Olivia whispered.
My heart tightened.
My brother.
My own blood.
Anthony had been with me the morning Isabelle died.
Or at least that was what I had always believed.
I looked at Olivia.
“Sweetheart, why are you pointing at Uncle Anthony?”
She shook her head violently.
“Not him.”
Then she touched the glass over the photograph.
Her finger moved past Anthony.
Past Carlo.
To a reflection in the mirror behind them.
A woman stood in the hallway.
The image was small.
Blurred.
But recognizable.
My sister-in-law, Cecilia Romano.
Anthony’s wife.
Sophie whispered.
“She was at Mommy’s school.”
The room became so quiet that I could hear the old clock ticking near the fireplace.
I crouched until I was level with Sophie.
“On the morning Mommy died?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
She nodded.
Olivia took her sister’s hand.
“We saw her.”
My voice came out lower than I intended.
“Where?”
“In the parking lot.”
Grace moved closer.
I forced myself to stay calm.
Everything in me wanted answers immediately.
But I could see the fear returning to my daughters’ faces.
I had spent fourteen months trying to bring them out of that fear.
I would not push them back into it.
“What did you see?”
Olivia stared at the floor.
“Aunt Cecilia was arguing with Mommy.”
I looked at Grace.
Her face had gone pale.
“About what?”
Olivia hesitated.
Then Nora spoke from behind Grace.
“The blue book.”
Three words.
Three words that meant nothing to me.
Yet they changed Grace’s expression instantly.
I noticed.
“What blue book?”
Grace said nothing.
I stood.
“Grace?”
She slowly looked at me.
“I think I know what they mean.”
“How?”
“Because I found one.”
My pulse jumped.
“Where?”
“In Nora’s room.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Hidden inside the wall.”
I stared at her.
“You found something hidden inside my daughter’s bedroom and didn’t tell me?”
“I found it yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“I didn’t know what it was.”
Her voice stayed calm, but her hands were shaking.
“And after the girls started talking this morning, I realized they might have hidden it themselves.”
Olivia shook her head.
“Mommy hid it.”
I turned back toward her.
“You saw her?”
She nodded.
“The night before.”
“Before what happened?”
Another nod.
Sophie stepped closer.
“Mommy told us never to tell anyone.”
“Why?”
Olivia looked at the photograph again.
“Because someone wanted it.”
My phone vibrated.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the name.
Anthony.
My brother.
I answered.
“Dominic?”
His voice sounded normal.
Too normal.
“I heard you got home early.”
I looked toward the photograph.
“How did you know?”
There was a pause.
Only half a second.
But I heard it.
“Carlo mentioned it.”
Across the room, Olivia began shaking her head.
“No.”
I covered the phone.
“What?”
She pointed at it.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Don’t tell Uncle Anthony.”
I stared at my daughter.
“Why?”
She looked toward the library door.
Because someone had just walked past it.
A shadow disappeared into the hall.
May you like
Then Olivia whispered the words that sent cold through my entire body.
“Because Uncle Anthony knows we remember.”
