Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO STAY HOMELESS
Evelyn Gallagher had never met Margaret Sloane before arriving at the Moretti mansion.
At least, that was what she believed.
But the photograph Vincent showed her proved Margaret had been watching her for weeks.
"Do you recognize this place?" Vincent asked.
Evelyn leaned closer.
Her face changed.
"That's the Harbor Hope shelter."
"You stayed there?"
She nodded.
"For nine nights."
Vincent studied the photograph.
Margaret stood several feet behind Evelyn, speaking into a phone.
"Did you ever see this woman?"
Evelyn shook her head.
"No."
Then she hesitated.
"Wait."
Vincent leaned forward.
"What?"
"There was a woman who came to the shelter asking questions about me."
His expression hardened.
"What kind of questions?"
"Whether I had family. Whether I was looking for work. Whether I'd ever lived outside Chicago."
Vincent exchanged a glance with Dominic.
"Did she give a name?"
"No."
Evelyn looked down.
"But she offered the shelter manager money."
"What for?"
"To tell her when I left."
Silence filled the room.
Vincent sat opposite her.
"Evelyn, I need you to think carefully. Has anyone threatened you recently?"
She shook her head.
Then paused.
"There was a man."
Vincent's expression changed.
"What man?"
"He approached me outside a grocery store last month."
"What did he want?"
"He asked about my mother."
Vincent leaned forward.
"What did he say?"
Evelyn swallowed.
"He asked whether I still had her old jewelry box."
Vincent frowned.
"Your mother's jewelry box?"
She nodded.
"My mother died when I was nineteen. I kept a few things."
"Did you give him anything?"
"No. I thought he was confused."
"Did you tell the police?"
"He walked away before I understood what was happening."
Vincent looked toward Dominic.
"Find out who he was."
Dominic nodded.
Then Evelyn noticed something.
"Mr. Moretti?"
Vincent looked back.
"Vincent," he corrected gently.
She smiled nervously.
"Vincent, why would someone care about my mother's belongings?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because something about the story unsettled him.
His late wife, Sophia, had kept a small wooden jewelry box.
Before she died, she had told him never to throw it away.
He'd assumed it contained sentimental letters.
Now Evelyn was describing something strangely similar.
"Where is your mother's box?" he asked.
Evelyn looked embarrassed.
"In storage."
"What storage?"
"A rented locker near the shelter."
Vincent frowned.
"Is it secure?"
"I think so."
They arranged to visit the facility with Evelyn's permission.
The following morning, after her injury had received medical treatment, Evelyn accompanied Vincent and Dominic.
Her storage locker was small.
Inside were two suitcases.
A winter coat.
Several books.
And a wooden jewelry box wrapped in an old towel.
Evelyn lifted it carefully.
"My mother gave this to me before she died."
Vincent studied the carved lid.
A small silver rose decorated the center.
His breath caught.
"Where did she get it?"
Evelyn frowned.
"I don't know."
Vincent reached into his wallet.
He removed an old photograph.
It showed Sophia Moretti holding a nearly identical box.
Evelyn stared.
"Why does your wife have the same one?"
Vincent's face went pale.
"I don't know."
Evelyn opened her mother's box.
Inside were a silver necklace, several photographs, and a folded letter.
She unfolded the paper.
Her mother's handwriting appeared across the page.
My darling Evelyn,
If anyone from the Moretti family ever comes looking for this box, don't trust them until you know what happened to Isabella Moretti.
Vincent stopped breathing.
"Isabella Moretti?"
Evelyn looked up.
"You know her?"
His voice became barely audible.
"She was my younger sister."
Evelyn stared.
"What happened to her?"
Vincent slowly sat down.
"She disappeared twenty-six years ago."
Then he looked at the letter again.
May you like
And whispered:
"Your mother knew the one secret my family spent twenty-six years trying to bury."
