Chapter 4 - The Voice on the Telephone
Lillian Cross arrived forty minutes later.
She entered the registration office wearing a charcoal coat, dark glasses, and leather gloves despite the warm afternoon. She appeared to be in her early fifties, though Claire knew from Detective Reed’s case notes that she was sixty-two.
The missing woman looked neither frightened nor relieved.
She looked prepared.
Adrian saw her through the hallway glass and immediately stood.
For the first time since the investigation began, Celeste appeared genuinely shocked.
Lillian removed her glasses.
Her gaze settled on Adrian.
“You made a mess.”
Adrian said nothing.
Detective Reed approached her.
“Lillian Cross.”
“Detective Reed.”
“I attended your memorial service.”
“That was kind of you.”
“Your family believed you were dead.”
“My family believed many convenient things.”
Reed gestured toward an interview room.
“You’ll need to answer questions.”
“I came to represent my client.”
“Your license to practice law was suspended fifteen years ago.”
“It was restored under another jurisdiction.”
“Under what name?”
Lillian smiled faintly.
“That is a complicated question.”
Claire remained near Miriam’s desk, watching the exchange.
Lillian’s photograph had appeared in old newspapers after her disappearance. She had been a wealthy pharmaceutical heiress engaged to a man named Jonathan Hale. Three days before their wedding, she vanished from a private estate in Connecticut.
Jonathan Hale vanished too.
Reed believed Jonathan and Adrian were the same man.
But Lillian did not look like a victim facing her former captor.
She looked like his superior.
Claire stepped forward.
“Why did you disappear?”
Lillian turned toward her.
“You must be Claire.”
“How do you know me?”
“Everyone knows you.”
“I don’t know you.”
“No. Your family made sure of that.”
Reed moved between them.
“Do not speak to her without counsel.”
Claire almost laughed.
“I’m not under investigation.”
“No, but she is trying to control the conversation.”
Lillian removed one glove finger by finger.
“Thomas Ashford always had that effect on people. Even decades after his death, everyone assumes a conversation is a trap.”
Claire held her gaze.
“You knew my grandfather.”
“I knew what he did.”
“What did he do?”
“He destroyed lives and called it justice.”
Reed opened the interview-room door.
“Inside.”
Lillian ignored him.
“Your grandfather pursued Daniel for years.”
Claire looked toward Adrian.
“You mean Adrian?”
“I mean Daniel Mercer. Adrian Vale. Jonathan Hale. Andrew Pierce. Samuel Dane. He has had many names.”
Naomi, standing behind Claire, became rigid at the mention of Andrew Pierce.
Claire noticed.
“What?”
Naomi shook her head too quickly.
“Nothing.”
Lillian continued.
“Thomas believed identity was permanent. He believed a birth certificate, a fingerprint, and a government file could define a person forever. He never understood that identity is simply a door. Locks can be changed.”
Claire’s voice turned cold.
“And the women who disappeared?”
“Some escaped lives they hated.”
“Did you?”
Lillian’s smile faded.
“My father controlled every aspect of my existence. Daniel offered me an exit.”
“You abandoned your family and fortune?”
“I abandoned a prison.”
“Then why pretend to be dead?”
“Because dead women are difficult to control.”
Reed took Lillian by the arm.
“Interview room. Now.”
She did not resist, but before walking away she looked at Claire’s veil.
“You almost married him.”
Claire said nothing.
Lillian leaned closer.
“Do you know why he waited so long before bringing you to the vault?”
“He couldn’t access it until the marriage was legal.”
“That is what your detective believes.”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe Daniel could have stolen your money months ago if money was what he wanted.”
Claire’s pulse quickened.
“Then what does he want?”
Lillian’s eyes moved toward the evidence folder.
“He wants the name written beneath your mother’s signature.”
Reed pulled her away.
The interview-room door closed behind them.
Claire turned to Detective Reed’s partner, Officer Elena Marsh.
“What did she mean?”
Marsh shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“My mother’s signature is on hundreds of documents.”
Naomi had moved toward the window.
Claire looked at her.
“What is wrong?”
Naomi remained silent.
“Naomi.”
Her friend turned around, her face pale.
“My father’s name was Andrew Pierce.”
Claire stared at her.
“I know.”
“Lillian said Adrian used the name Andrew Pierce.”
“It could be a coincidence.”
“My father disappeared when I was four.”
Claire had always known Naomi was raised by her mother. She had never asked many questions about Naomi’s father because Naomi rarely spoke about him.
“What did your mother tell you?”
“That he left us.”
“Do you have a photograph?”
Naomi took out her phone and searched through an old cloud album.
She found a scanned family picture.
A young Naomi sat on her mother’s lap. Behind them stood a dark-haired man in his late twenties.
The photograph was slightly blurred.
The hairstyle was different.
The face was younger.
But Claire knew him.
Adrian.
Naomi covered her mouth.
“No.”
Claire took the phone.
The man wore a silver watch on his left wrist. Adrian owned the same watch. He claimed it had belonged to his father.
Claire enlarged the photograph.
On the back wall was a framed painting of a red house by the sea.
She had seen that painting too.
It hung in Celeste’s private sitting room.
Naomi staggered toward a chair.
“He’s my father.”
Claire’s mind struggled to accept the connection.
Adrian had met Naomi dozens of times. He had sat beside her at dinners, laughed at her jokes, and asked about her career. He had never shown recognition.
Or perhaps he had.
Claire remembered Adrian’s habit of watching Naomi when he thought no one noticed. She had once teased him about it, accusing him of finding Naomi attractive.
Adrian had appeared offended.
Now Claire understood that what she had seen was not attraction.
It was calculation.
Reed emerged from the interview room.
Claire handed him Naomi’s phone.
The detective studied the photograph.
His face became grim.
“Where did you get this?”
“My mother,” Naomi whispered. “That man is Andrew Pierce.”
Reed looked toward Adrian’s room.
“This changes everything.”
“How?”
“Because Andrew Pierce was never one of Daniel Mercer’s known identities.”
“You just heard Lillian say it was.”
“Yes.”
“Then why does that matter?”
Reed returned the phone.
“Because Naomi’s father disappeared twenty-four years ago.”
Claire followed his reasoning.
“But Daniel married Evelyn twenty-three years ago.”
“Exactly.”
Naomi looked between them.
“What are you saying?”
Reed turned toward the glass behind which Adrian sat.
“I’m saying the man in your photograph may not be Daniel Mercer.”
Claire’s breath caught.
“Then who is he?”
Before Reed could answer, the building lights went out.
The hallway fell into darkness.
A fire alarm began to ring.
Someone screamed near the elevators.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Through the red glow, Claire saw Celeste’s interview-room door swing open.
Then Adrian’s.
Officer Marsh shouted for everyone to remain where they were.
May you like
Claire turned toward Naomi.
Her friend was gone.
