Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Norah did not move.
Around her, thirty people remained absolutely silent.
Gabriel had just said five words that rearranged her entire life.
Your mother raised me.
“That’s impossible.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened slightly.
“Why?”
“Because my mother never mentioned you.”
“That doesn’t make it impossible.”
“She worked in a nursing home.”
“Later.”
Norah stared at him.
Gabriel reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and removed his wallet.
From behind several cards, he drew a photograph worn soft at the edges.
He placed it beside the picture Ray had carried.
Norah stepped closer.
The photograph was more than twenty years old.
A dark-haired boy of perhaps eleven stood on the steps of the Rossi estate with his arms folded angrily across his chest.
Gabriel.
Younger, thinner, but unmistakable.
Beside him stood a beautiful woman with tired eyes and an amused smile.
Norah’s knees nearly gave way.
“Mom.”
Evelyn Hayes had one arm around the boy’s shoulders.
On her other side stood an elegant dark-haired woman Norah had never seen before.
Gabriel touched that woman’s image.
“My mother. Lucia.”
Norah picked up the photograph.
Her own mother looked happier than Norah remembered her ever looking.
There was something else around Evelyn’s neck.
A silver rosary.
At its center hung a small St. Michael medal.
Gabriel noticed where Norah was looking.
“That belonged to my mother.”
Norah’s head came up.
“What?”
“It disappeared the same night your mother left this house.”
The softness vanished from the room.
Norah slowly lowered the photograph.
“You think she stole it.”
“I was twelve.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“At the time, everyone did.”
Norah laughed once.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“Of course.”
“Norah—”
“So she raised you, and then when something valuable disappeared, the maid became the thief.”
Mrs. Gable stepped forward.
“That isn’t what happened.”
Norah spun toward her.
“You knew her too?”
Mrs. Gable closed her eyes briefly.
“Yes.”
“How many people in this house knew my mother while I was walking around here cleaning their bathrooms?”
Nobody answered.
Norah looked at Gabriel.
“You hired me knowing?”
“No.”
She turned to Mrs. Gable.
The older woman’s silence answered for her.
Norah’s face changed.
“You.”
Mrs. Gable straightened.
“I saw your surname on the employment application.”
“And?”
“And I hired you.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised Lucia Rossi I would.”
Gabriel's head snapped toward her.
“When?”
Mrs. Gable looked at him.
“Three days before your mother died.”
Gabriel went very still.
Lucia Rossi had died when Gabriel was seventeen.
For years, Gabriel had believed there were few secrets left from that period.
Apparently he had been wrong.
Mrs. Gable looked at Norah.
“Your mother did not steal that rosary.”
“Then why was she accused?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“But you know something.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel's voice sharpened.
“Start talking.”
Mrs. Gable looked almost offended.
“I changed your diapers, Gabriel Rossi. Do not use that voice with me.”
Several guards suddenly became fascinated by the wallpaper.
Gabriel stared at her.
Then, surprisingly, he nodded.
“Fair enough.”
Mrs. Gable took a breath.
“Lucia knew Evelyn was in trouble. She gave her money. She arranged a place for her to stay outside the city.”
Norah frowned.
“My mother never left Chicago.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because something happened before she could go.”
Gabriel looked at the old photograph.
“The warehouse fire.”
Mrs. Gable nodded.
Norah looked between them.
“What warehouse fire?”
Gabriel’s face changed.
“My father died in it.”
The words landed heavily.
“Vittorio Rossi died October seventeenth, 2003,” Gabriel said. “The official story was a dispute with the Moretti organization.”
“Official?”
Gabriel gave her a long look.
“I stopped believing official stories a long time ago.”
Mrs. Gable continued.
“Your mother disappeared from the estate the following morning. The rosary disappeared with her. Everyone assumed the two events were connected.”
Norah's voice went quiet.
“What did you assume?”
Mrs. Gable looked ashamed.
“For too many years, I assumed what everyone else did.”
Norah looked at the cast around her wrist.
Then at the picture of Evelyn.
“My mother spent the rest of her life terrified of this family.”
Gabriel flinched.
Barely.
But Norah saw it.
Ray shifted in his chair.
“There’s more.”
Every head turned toward him.
Gabriel sat down again.
“Talk.”
Ray licked his dry lips.
“The guy who hired me didn’t just mention a coat.”
Norah stared at him.
“What else?”
“He asked if you ever talked about a watch.”
Gabriel’s face changed instantly.
“What kind of watch?”
“A gold pocket watch.”
Vincent, standing near the wall, went rigid.
Norah noticed.
So did Gabriel.
Gabriel looked at him.
“Vincent?”
“Nothing.”
“That was not nothing.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
Ray continued desperately.
“The guy said if I found the coat, I’d find the watch. Said it had letters on the back.”
“What letters?” Gabriel asked.
“C.R.”
Gabriel closed his eyes for one second.
Norah looked around.
“What does that mean?”
Mrs. Gable whispered, “Carlo Rossi.”
Gabriel’s uncle.
His father’s younger brother.
Still alive.
Still powerful.
Still one of the most respected men in Gabriel’s world.
Ray spoke again.
“The man said Mr. Carlo lost that watch twenty-three years ago.”
Gabriel looked at Vincent.
“And you knew?”
Vincent did not answer.
Gabriel stood.
“Everybody out.”
The staff moved immediately.
Ray was taken away by the guards.
Norah did not move.
Neither did Mrs. Gable.
Gabriel pointed toward Vincent.
“You stay.”
Then toward Norah.
“You too.”
When the doors closed, Gabriel faced Vincent.
“What do you know about the watch?”
Vincent looked exhausted.
“My father talked about it once.”
Vincent’s father, Frank Marchetti, had driven for Vittorio Rossi.
He had died ten years earlier.
“What did he say?”
“That Carlo wore it everywhere.”
Gabriel folded his arms.
“I knew that.”
Vincent stared at the table.
“He also said Carlo stopped wearing it the night your father died.”
Silence filled the room.
Norah felt the cold traveling down her spine.
Gabriel spoke slowly.
“Why did your father know that?”
Vincent looked up.
“Because he saw the watch lying on the floor of Warehouse Nine.”
Mrs. Gable covered her mouth.
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“My father’s warehouse.”
Vincent nodded.
“The morning after the fire.”
Norah whispered, “Then Carlo was there.”
“Maybe,” Vincent said. “Or maybe somebody wanted us to believe he was.”
Gabriel looked at Norah.
“The coat.”
She stiffened.
“What?”
“Where is your mother’s blue coat?”
Norah hesitated.
“In my apartment.”
“We’re getting it.”
“No.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“My apartment is my home.”
“And someone already paid Raymond Miller to search for something inside it.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to invade it too.”
Gabriel's voice softened.
“You’re right.”
Norah was surprised.
He held her eyes.
“So you go with us.”
An hour later, Norah stood outside her apartment door with Gabriel and Vincent behind her.
The lock was intact.
Nothing appeared wrong.
Until she opened the door.
Her tiny living room had been turned upside down.
Drawers emptied.
Cushions slashed.
Kitchen cabinets open.
Norah rushed toward the bedroom.
“Wait,” Gabriel ordered.
She ignored him.
The closet door stood open.
Her mother’s blue wool coat was on the floor.
Norah knelt beside it.
The lining had been cut from collar to hem.
Someone had searched every inch.
Gabriel crouched beside her.
“Did they find it?”
“I don’t know.”
Norah touched the ruined lining.
Then her fingers paused.
There was a hard ridge sewn into the cuff.
A place the intruder had missed.
Norah ripped one stitch with her thumbnail.
Something slipped into her palm.
Not a watch.
A small brass key.
Attached to it was a faded paper tag.
Gabriel leaned closer.
Three handwritten words remained legible.
UNION STATION.
LOCKER 214.
And underneath, in Evelyn Hayes’s handwriting, was one final sentence.
May you like
IF GABRIEL EVER ASKS, TELL HIM HIS MOTHER KNEW THE TRUTH.
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