Chapter 8 - WHAT WAS SEWN INTO THE HEM
We searched the red coat again.
Pockets.
Lining.
Sleeves.
Nothing.
Then Walter turned it upside down.
“The hem.”
My mother had always repaired clothing by hand.
The stitches along the bottom looked ordinary.
Except six inches near the back were tighter.
I opened them carefully.
A narrow plastic sleeve slid onto the kitchen table.
Inside was an old photograph.
And a microcassette.
Benny frowned.
“What’s that?”
I stared at him.
“You’re forty-two, not twelve.”
“I know what it is. I wanted to see if you knew.”
“Go wash something.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Roman found an old recorder in the estate archives.
The tape crackled.
Then my mother’s voice filled the room.
I hadn’t heard it in eight months.
My knees weakened.
Roman caught the back of my chair.
My mother sounded young.
Terrified.
If someone finds this, my name is Eleanor Sullivan.
Sebastian Vale caused the Ravenwood fire.
He has been stealing from Antonio Duca and provoking disputes to hide it.
I copied enough records to prove it.
But Sebastian knows I saw him.
There was static.
Then:
If I have a daughter someday, I pray she never hears this.
I covered my mouth.
The recording continued.
The documents are not in Chicago.
They are somewhere Sebastian will never search.
Somewhere belonging to the only man I trust completely.
The tape ended.
Roman whispered:
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
My dad, Patrick Sullivan, had died when I was nineteen.
He’d been a quiet man who repaired clocks and never spoke about my mother’s past.
After his death, I sold most of his things.
Except one.
An old wooden toolbox.
It was sitting in a storage facility outside Philadelphia.
At least, it had been.
My payments were three months behind.
The unit was scheduled for auction.
“When?” Roman asked.
I checked the notice on my phone.
My stomach dropped.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Roman stood.
“Vincent, get the plane ready.”
I blinked.
“Plane?”
“We’re going to Philadelphia.”
Then every light in Ravenwood went out.
Total darkness swallowed the room.
May you like
Somewhere in the house, glass shattered.
And from the hallway came the unmistakable sound of someone running directly toward us.
