Chapter 4 - THE SIGNATURE OF A MISSING WOMAN
“She helped establish the company that bought Willow Gardens?”
I looked at the corporate filing in Dominic's hands.
Evelyn Caruso.
Victor Rourke.
Raymond Caruso.
Three signatures beneath the creation of a company that would eventually control my mother's care center.
It made no sense.
“Maybe your mother was involved,” I said.
Dominic looked at me.
“Maybe.”
I hadn't expected him to admit it.
He placed the paper on the table.
“But a signature doesn't tell us whether she signed willingly.”
Detective Reyes examined the filing.
“That's important. We know the document was recorded. We don't yet know the circumstances behind it.”
She pointed toward the registered business address.
“Do you recognize this location?”
Dominic nodded.
“My uncle's old office.”
“Did your mother ever work there?”
“Not that I remember.”
June was watching us with a strange expression.
“Mom?” I asked.
She didn't answer.
“Do you recognize the address?”
Finally, she nodded.
“Evelyn once asked me to come there.”
“When?”
“Before the fire.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“Why?”
“She wanted someone to witness a conversation with Raymond.”
“What conversation?”
June looked exhausted.
“I didn't go. My shift ran late.”
Her eyes filled.
“I've wondered about that decision for thirty-one years.”
I held her hand.
“You couldn't have known what would happen.”
“But she was frightened.”
June looked toward Dominic.
“She said someone had been moving money without Salvatore's permission.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Rourke handled the accounts.”
“And Raymond handled the buildings,” June replied.
Detective Reyes looked at the document again.
“It's possible the company was created to hold property connected to those businesses.”
Dominic nodded.
“My father owned a warehouse and several commercial buildings. After he died, most of the property was sold.”
“Who handled the sale?”
“My uncle.”
“And did you ever review it?”
“I was seven.”
He paused.
“When I was older, Raymond showed me the records. He said the money paid my father's debts.”
June lowered her head.
“That isn't what Evelyn believed.”
Dominic looked at her.
“What did she believe?”
“That your father had discovered someone stealing from him.”
A silence settled over the table.
Suddenly, the old fire didn't feel like a distant family tragedy.
It felt like the beginning of something that had never ended.
Detective Reyes closed the file.
“Mr. Caruso, I'm going to request the original business records through the proper channels. We also need to establish Evelyn Mercer's identity and the circumstances of her death.”
I flinched.
Hearing it spoken aloud was different.
Her death.
I had spent my entire life wondering about my birth mother.
Now a detective was discussing the identification of her body.
I would never get to ask why she'd left.
Or whether she had thought about me on my birthdays.
Or why she hadn't returned when I was old enough to understand.
June noticed my expression.
“Oh, Maggie.”
I couldn't look at her.
The medical team returned to say Mom needed to be taken to the hospital.
Her blood pressure had improved, but she still needed observation.
I stood.
“I'm coming with her.”
“Of course,” Detective Reyes said.
“Before you go, Mrs. Sullivan,” she added, “there's something I need to understand.”
June turned.
“When did you last have direct contact with Evelyn before her visit three nights ago?”
Mom looked down.
“Thirty-one years ago.”
The detective studied her.
“Are you certain?”
June's hands tightened.
I knew that expression.
I'd seen it when I asked why she never spoke about my earliest childhood.
When I asked whether my birth mother had brown eyes like mine.
When I asked why there were no baby photographs of me.
She was trying to decide whether telling the truth would hurt me more than keeping it.
“Mom?”
Her lips trembled.
“There was a letter.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What letter?”
“From Evelyn.”
“When?”
June looked at me.
“Last May.”
I stared.
“Six months ago?”
She nodded.
I pulled back.
“You had a letter from my birth mother six months ago?”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“She said she'd finally found where we were living. She wanted to know whether you would see her.”
I couldn't breathe.
“And what did you say?”
June covered her mouth.
I looked at Dominic.
His expression was as stunned as mine.
“Mom, please.”
She lowered her hand.
“I was frightened.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
I stared at her.
She shook her head.
“I know that sounds selfish.”
“Did you answer her?”
June nodded.
“What did you tell her?”
She began crying.
“That you had a good life.”
I swallowed.
“What else?”
“That you were happy.”
“Mom.”
She looked away.
I felt my voice rising.
“What else did you tell her?”
June finally whispered, “I told her you didn't want anyone from your old family contacting you.”
The room seemed to disappear around me.
For thirty-one years, I'd believed the woman who gave birth to me had chosen not to come back.
Now I knew she'd tried.
And the woman I loved most had told her to stay away.
I stepped backward.
June reached toward me.
“Maggie—”
I couldn't take her hand.
“Did you even ask me?”
She shook her head.
I looked at Dominic.
He was staring at June, his expression filled with something I couldn't name.
Then I turned back to my mother.
“She's dead, Mom.”
June began sobbing.
I tried to steady my voice.
“She came looking for me, and now she's dead.”
My eyes filled.
“And you told her I didn't want her.”
June whispered, “There's something else in the letter.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“Evelyn said she wasn't only looking for you anymore.”
May you like
June looked toward Dominic.
“She said she'd found proof that the fire that killed your father had been deliberately started.”
