Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN MY MOTHER REFUSED TO BECOME
“No.”
The word came out before I could think.
Vincent didn’t flinch.
“Your mother’s name appeared on transfer approvals.”
“You said she handled patient records.”
“She also had access to foundation accounts.”
“That doesn’t mean she stole.”
“No.”
“Then why say her?”
“Because that’s what the records showed.”
I wanted to throw the coffee pot at him.
Maybe violence was contagious.
Instead, I asked:
“Did you confront her?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After your father died.”
My hands went cold.
“What did she say?”
“That the signatures were forged.”
“Did you believe her?”
Vincent took too long.
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course not.”
“I had no proof.”
“You had no proof she stole either.”
“No.”
“Yet you treated her like she did.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
For the first time since entering, Vincent looked ashamed.
Not enough.
But something.
Then Luca asked:
“What happened after that?”
Vincent looked at me.
“She disappeared.”
I frowned.
“My mother did not disappear.”
“From us.”
She moved our family from Cicero to the South Side when I was twelve.
I thought it was because my father died.
Maybe it was.
Maybe not only that.
Vincent continued.
“Four years later, Elena found evidence that your mother had been framed.”
Luca stared.
“Our mother knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because she didn’t tell me.”
His voice changed when he said it.
Pain.
Old.
Luca noticed too.
“What happened?”
Vincent looked down.
“Elena died.”
I knew the Moretti story.
Car bombing.
Twenty years ago.
Luca had been eight.
Chicago newspapers still called it one of the bloodiest family attacks of that decade.
“Was she killed because of the foundation?”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“I believe so.”
“And my father?”
“Possibly.”
I felt sick.
Two dead parents tied to the same stolen money.
Then another thought.
“My mother is dying.”
Vincent looked at me.
“That is why I came.”
“What?”
“I found out she had been admitted to Mercy Central.”
“Why were you looking?”
“Because someone accessed old foundation files last month.”
Luca frowned.
“Who?”
Vincent ignored him.
“I traced the access to your mother’s name.”
I stared.
“She can barely walk to the bathroom.”
“I know.”
“Then someone used her identity.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“That is what I intended to find out.”
I looked at the broken cup.
“So you came here and threw coffee at me?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“I needed to know whether you were afraid of me.”
I stared in disbelief.
“That is the stupidest sentence I have ever heard.”
Luca looked away.
Possibly hiding a smile.
Vincent continued.
“If someone had already recruited you—”
“You could have asked.”
“Yes.”
“You could have sat down.”
“Yes.”
“You could have behaved like an adult.”
“Yes.”
His agreement took the fight out of me.
I blinked.
“You admit that?”
“I threw a cup at a waitress to test whether she was connected to a twenty-year conspiracy.”
He looked at the shattered ceramic.
“It was not my finest decision.”
Reuben coughed loudly behind the grill.
Luca actually smiled.
Then Vincent became serious.
“Emily, whoever reopened those files knows your mother is alive.”
“She’s not a threat to anyone.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Why?”
“Because if she remembers who framed her, she can identify the person who killed Elena.”
My heart tightened.
“Does she?”
Vincent looked toward the diner window.
“I don’t know.”
Then my phone rang.
Mercy Central.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A nurse.
Breathless.
“Ms. Carter, you need to come immediately.”
My knees weakened.
“What happened?”
“Your mother’s room was entered without authorization.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Is she okay?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Relief.
May you like
Then:
“But she’s missing.”
