Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO SURVIVED HARBOR 19
“The person who survived it.”
I repeated the words.
Ethan didn't move.
“Who?”
He stared at the photograph on his phone.
“I don't know.”
“You just said someone survived.”
“I said someone survived.”
“Then you know who.”
“Not yet.”
My frustration boiled over.
“You keep giving me pieces and expecting me to be grateful.”
“I expect you to stay alive.”
“I don't want your protection if it means living inside another cage.”
His expression tightened.
“You think this is a cage?”
“I think you married me for power, moved me into one wing of your house, and now you're suddenly terrified to let me walk outside.”
“Because people are trying to reach you.”
“Why?”
“Because they believe you have something.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
“What?”
Ethan walked to the desk.
“Your memories.”
I stared at him.
“What memories?”
“From Harbor 19.”
I shook my head.
“I was two years old.”
“I know.”
“Then how could I remember anything?”
“You may not remember consciously.”
He picked up the photograph of my mother.
“Children remember sounds. Faces. Objects.”
He pointed to her necklace.
“This was around your neck that night.”
I touched the necklace instinctively.
It had belonged to my mother.
I had worn it every day since I was sixteen.
“Why?”
“Because she gave it to you before she died.”
I stared at the pendant.
It had always seemed ordinary.
A small gold oval with a tiny blue stone.
Ethan turned it over.
There was an engraving on the back.
H19.
My breath caught.
“Why didn't I ever see that?”
“Because your father had the pendant altered.”
“What?”
Ethan pressed the stone.
The back opened.
Inside was a tiny photograph.
A warehouse.
Three men.
My father.
Ethan's father.
And a third man.
I recognized him.
My father had once called him Uncle Samuel.
Except I had never been told he was involved in business.
Ethan's expression darkened.
“Samuel Russo.”
My heart dropped.
“The Russo family?”
“Yes.”
“But my father hated them.”
“He needed them.”
Ethan took another photograph from the drawer.
It showed my mother standing at Harbor 19.
She was holding a little girl.
Me.
In the background was Samuel Russo.
And beside him was a young woman.
I stared at her.
“She looks like—”
“Your mother.”
“No.”
Older.
Different hair.
Same eyes.
I shook my head.
“Who is she?”
Ethan didn't answer.
Then I saw the bracelet.
The same bracelet my mother had given me.
The woman wore it too.
“That's my mother.”
“No.”
His answer was quiet.
“It's her sister.”
I stared.
“My mother had a sister?”
“Yes.”
“Why have I never heard of her?”
“Because she disappeared before you were born.”
I sat down.
Another hidden family member.
Another secret.
Another piece of my childhood that had been erased.
“What happened to her?”
Ethan looked away.
“She was at Harbor 19.”
My heart pounded.
“Was she the survivor?”
“Yes.”
I looked up.
“She survived?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why are we sitting here?”
“Because she has been trying to reach you.”
The room became silent.
“How?”
“Through objects.”
I frowned.
Ethan pointed to the bracelet.
“The bracelet.”
Then my necklace.
“The pendant.”
Then the old photograph.
“The photograph.”
“She knew I would find them?”
“She knew your father would hide the truth.”
I stared at him.
“What happened at Harbor 19?”
Ethan finally answered.
“Your father and Samuel Russo were working together.”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
“They were moving money through shipping containers.”
“And my mother?”
“She discovered it.”
“And your father?”
“My father discovered that she knew.”
“So he killed her?”
“No.”
Ethan's voice softened.
“He tried to protect her.”
I looked at him.
“My mother was killed because your father protected her?”
“He helped her escape.”
“Then how did she die?”
Ethan's eyes dropped.
“Your father intercepted the car.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“Because your father believed she was going to expose everything.”
I stood.
“He killed his own wife?”
Ethan didn't answer.
That was enough.
I backed away.
For twenty-two years, I had believed my father was grieving beside me.
Now I wondered whether he had been pretending.
Then Ethan's phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He handed me the phone.
A photograph.
A woman standing outside a train station.
Older.
Gray hair.
The same eyes as my mother.
Beneath the photograph was one sentence.
Tell Jane I never stopped waiting.
I covered my mouth.
“She's alive.”
Ethan nodded.
“She is.”
“Where?”
“Milwaukee.”
I grabbed my coat.
Ethan caught my arm.
“You're not going.”
“I am.”
“Jane.”
“She is my mother's sister.”
“She may be bait.”
“Then you come with me.”
He stared at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he released my arm.
“I'll drive.”
As we reached the front hall, Brian appeared.
“Boss.”
“What?”
Brian looked at me.
Then Ethan.
“We have a problem.”
“What kind?”
“The woman in Milwaukee isn't the only person who knows where she is.”
Ethan's face hardened.
“Who else?”
Brian handed him a photograph.
It showed my father.
Alive.
Standing outside the same Milwaukee station.
The photograph had been taken ten minutes earlier.
Ethan stared at it.
May you like
Then he looked at me.
“Your father knows we're coming.”
