Chapter 9 - THE REASON TRENT CHOSE ME
Trent Hayes hadn't fallen in love with me by accident.
That realization hurt more than I expected.
I had already accepted that he was controlling, cruel, and dangerous.
But a small part of me still believed our beginning had been real.
The coffee shop where we met.
The flowers.
The long conversations.
The way he'd remembered my mother's birthday.
Now I understood.
He'd been collecting information.
My history.
My family.
My workplace.
My access to the archives.
He had been searching for evidence hidden by a woman who died fifteen years earlier.
My mother.
I sat beside Sarah in the historical society's conference room while investigators reviewed the recovered documents.
Victor stood near the window.
He looked furious.
But he kept his distance.
He had learned quickly that I needed choices, not commands.
"Why would Mom hide evidence?" I whispered.
Sarah squeezed my hand.
"Maybe she wanted to protect you."
I shook my head.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"I know."
I looked toward the folder.
Then something occurred to me.
"My mother's things."
Sarah frowned.
"What?"
"When she died, I kept one box."
"What was inside?"
"Photographs. Letters. Her old nursing certificates."
Victor turned.
"Where is it?"
"At my apartment."
His expression sharpened.
"Could Trent have accessed it?"
My stomach twisted.
"Yes."
I remembered the night Trent insisted on helping me clean the closet.
He'd spent nearly an hour examining Mom's old papers.
At the time, I thought he was being thoughtful.
Now the memory felt poisonous.
We notified the detective, who arranged for the apartment to be checked before I returned.
The box was still there.
But the contents had been disturbed.
Several photographs lay upside down.
A certificate had been removed from its frame.
And the bottom of the cardboard box had been cut open.
I stared.
"He searched it."
The detective photographed everything.
Then I noticed something unusual.
Mom's old wooden jewelry case sat beside the bed.
The lid was closed.
But the tiny brass lock was damaged.
I pointed it out.
The officer examined it.
Inside were a few inexpensive rings and an old silver locket.
I remembered wearing that locket as a child.
Mom had told me never to lose it.
The officer carefully opened the clasp.
A miniature photograph appeared.
Catherine and Elena.
Two sisters.
Smiling.
Behind the photograph was a folded strip of paper.
On it were seven numbers.
And a single word.
Ashland.
My breath caught.
"That's where Mom worked."
Victor frowned.
"Where?"
"An old medical clinic near Ashland Avenue."
I looked at the numbers again.
Then remembered something else.
Before she died, Mom had given me an emergency key.
She said it belonged to an old storage cabinet.
I'd kept it on my childhood keychain.
I hadn't used it in fifteen years.
I looked toward Sarah.
"Oh, my God."
"What?"
"The key."
Victor stepped closer.
"What key?"
I swallowed.
"My mother didn't hide the evidence in the archives."
May you like
I held up the locket.
"She hid it somewhere only I would remember."
