Chapter 7 - THE ROOM MY MOTHER KEPT LOCKED
My mother had protected a little girl for six years.
And somehow, I'd never understood who that child might be.
The realization made me feel sick.
I remembered visiting Mom during her final illness.
There were photographs of a little girl on her dresser.
School pictures.
Birthday parties.
A child with gray eyes and curly brown hair.
I'd assumed she belonged to one of Mom's friends.
I never asked enough questions.
Now I wondered whether I'd been standing inches away from Arthur Romano's missing daughter without knowing it.
"Where did your mother live?" Arthur asked.
"Connecticut. Outside New Haven."
"Do you still have the house?"
"We sold it after she died."
"Then we find the new owners."
I shook my head.
"There's something else."
Arthur waited.
"Mom kept a storage unit. When we sold the house, I moved her personal belongings there."
"The toolbox?"
"Yes."
"And the locked room?"
I swallowed.
"Everything from that room was packed into six boxes."
Arthur reached for his coat.
He could barely stand.
I pushed him back onto the bed.
"Absolutely not."
"Maeve—"
"You have stitches, a concussion, and what looks like half the city's enemies hunting you. You're staying here until the doctor clears you."
His eyebrows rose.
"Nobody talks to me like that."
"Then people should start."
He stared at me.
And then, unexpectedly, smiled.
"You're impossible."
"Apparently."
Two hours later, Agent Miller accompanied me to the storage facility while Arthur remained at my apartment with Vincent and the physician.
The unit smelled of dust and old cardboard.
I found the metal toolbox beneath a stack of blankets.
Its lock had rusted.
I opened it using the key my mother had hidden inside her jewelry box.
Inside were shipping documents, photographs, and a small leather journal.
My father's handwriting covered the pages.
Dates.
Container numbers.
Names.
Then one sentence stopped me.
Luca Romano isn't the enemy. His brother Arthur doesn't know what's happening.
I felt my throat tighten.
Dad had known Arthur's family.
He'd been helping Luca.
I turned the page.
Walter Carmichael is moving children through the adoption network. Evelyn is altering records. The babies are not all orphans.
My hands began shaking.
This was bigger than Arthur's daughter.
Far bigger.
There were other children.
Other families.
Other lives destroyed.
Then I found a photograph tucked between the pages.
My father stood beside Luca Romano.
Both men were smiling.
Behind them stood a third person.
A woman.
Young.
Beautiful.
Holding a baby.
I recognized her face from the pictures Arthur had shown me.
Elena Romano.
But something about the photograph bothered me.
The baby was wrapped in a blue blanket.
On the back, my father had written:
The first child was saved. The second is still missing.
I stared at those words.
Two children.
Arthur had been told Elena lost one daughter.
But my father had written about two.
Then Agent Miller leaned over my shoulder.
Her expression changed.
"Maeve, look at the date."
The photograph had been taken three months before Elena's reported accident.
May you like
And beside the date, my father had written two names.
Rose and Nicholas Romano.
