Chapter 4 - What Eleanor Had Been Hiding
The woman in the pharmacy photograph was my aunt Rebecca.
My mother’s older sister.
At least, that was who she appeared to be.
Rebecca had died in Arizona eleven years earlier.
Or so I believed.
There had been no funeral.
No body I saw.
Only a phone call from a distant cousin telling me she had suffered a stroke and died at a rehabilitation facility outside Phoenix.
I had been pregnant with Chloe and unable to travel.
Eleanor had gone in my place.
That detail hit me so hard I sat down.
“Eleanor went to Rebecca’s memorial.”
Julian stared at me.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She told me I shouldn’t travel because of the pregnancy.”
Detective Alvarez studied the photograph over video call.
“Are you certain it’s your aunt?”
“I haven’t seen her in more than a decade.”
“That isn’t certainty.”
“No.”
I enlarged the picture.
Rebecca had a small crescent-shaped birthmark near her left jaw.
The woman in the image had the same mark.
“It’s her.”
The investigation changed direction.
Alvarez located Rebecca’s death certificate.
Then found something wrong.
The certifying physician had lost his medical license two years later for falsifying records.
The rehabilitation facility had closed.
Rebecca’s Social Security number had shown no activity after her reported death.
Yet facial-recognition review of publicly available surveillance suggested a woman resembling her had been entering and leaving a Phoenix apartment connected to David Vance.
The family secret had become larger than poisoning.
I called Arthur Bell again.
When I said Rebecca’s name, he went silent.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“Because Claire believed Rebecca had become involved with David years before she died.”
“Involved how?”
“Financially.”
“Did they steal from my grandfather together?”
“Your mother believed David pressured Rebecca into assisting him.”
The word pressured stayed with me.
Was Eleanor being pressured too?
That evening, Julian said what neither of us had wanted to say.
“We need to find my mother.”
“I know.”
“Before David does.”
I looked at him.
“You think she’s in danger?”
“I think she’s guilty of something.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“But she’s still my mother.”
We found Eleanor the next afternoon.
Not through police.
Through Chloe.
“I know Grandma’s hiding place,” she said.
Julian looked at her.
“What?”
“When Grandma gets sad, she goes to the church with the blue windows.”
There were dozens of churches in San Diego.
But Julian knew immediately.
St. Matthew’s.
His father had been buried from there.
We told Alvarez.
Officers reached the church before us.
Eleanor sat alone in the last pew.
No suitcase.
No phone.
Nothing except a handbag.
When I entered, she looked toward me.
Her face collapsed.
“Nora.”
I stopped several feet away.
“Why?”
She covered her mouth.
Julian stayed beside me.
“Mom, answer her.”
Eleanor began crying.
Not delicate tears.
Her entire body shook.
I had imagined this confrontation dozens of times.
In some versions I screamed.
In others I demanded she look at my medical records.
But standing there, I felt almost empty.
“You put medication in my tea.”
Eleanor nodded.
Julian made a broken sound.
“How long?”
“Not ten years.”
The answer shocked me.
“What?”
“I never touched your tea for years.”
“Then when?”
“Last spring.”
My mind raced.
That was when my symptoms began.
“How many months?”
“Eleven.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the church altar.
“Because David said he would destroy Julian.”
Julian stepped forward.
“What are you talking about?”
“Your father.”
His face changed.
Eleanor clasped her hands.
“Your father borrowed money from David years ago. He falsified documents. I didn’t know until after he died.”
Julian shook his head.
“Dad never even knew David.”
“Yes, he did.”
“How?”
“Through Rebecca.”
The families had been connected before Julian and I ever met.
That realization was horrifying.
Eleanor continued.
“David kept records. He said he could make it look as if you were involved too.”
“I was seventeen when Dad died.”
“He had documents with your name.”
“Forgery.”
“I know that now.”
Julian stared at her.
“You poisoned my wife because someone threatened me with forged documents?”
Eleanor flinched.
“I thought I was only making her tired.”
“You knew it was medication.”
“Yes.”
“You watched her get sick.”
Tears ran down Eleanor’s face.
“Yes.”
I finally felt anger.
“You watched me go to doctors.”
“I know.”
“You told me I was imagining things.”
“I know.”
“You watched Chloe see you.”
Her eyes closed.
“I didn’t know she had.”
“What was supposed to happen?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“David wanted a doctor to declare you temporarily unable to manage your affairs.”
“Why?”
“He said it was about the trust.”
“So you knew.”
“Not at first.”
“But later?”
“Yes.”
I stepped closer.
“And you kept doing it.”
She whispered, “Yes.”
That single answer hurt more than every excuse.
Eleanor opened her handbag.
The officers tensed.
She slowly removed a small flash drive.
“I kept copies.”
Alvarez took it.
“Copies of what?”
“Messages. Instructions. Payments.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew one day he would blame everything on me.”
“Where is David?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about Rebecca?”
Eleanor’s face changed.
“She’s alive.”
I had already suspected it.
Hearing the words still felt impossible.
“Why did she fake her death?”
“David controlled her.”
“How?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I don’t.”
Her voice broke.
“I swear.”
Alvarez asked, “When did you last speak to David?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did he want?”
Eleanor looked at Chloe, who had remained outside with Sienna.
“He knows Nora found the trust.”
“How?”
“Arthur.”
I turned sharply.
“Arthur told him?”
“No.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Arthur’s office is compromised.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“David has someone there.”
Alvarez immediately stepped aside to call Arthur.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
We drove to his office.
The receptionist was gone.
The front door stood unlocked.
Arthur’s office had been searched.
Drawers open.
Papers scattered.
The trust binder missing.
On his desk sat one envelope.
My name was written across it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Nora—
Your mother expected this.
If David resurfaces, open the safe-deposit file marked C-17.
Do not let Rebecca reach it first.
Arthur.
Julian whispered, “Where is he?”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
David’s voice came through.
“Little Bird.”
“Where’s Arthur?”
“He’s alive.”
“If you hurt him—”
“I don’t need Arthur.”
“What do you want?”
“What your mother hid from me.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“You will.”
Then a woman spoke in the background.
Weak.
Terrified.
“Nora?”
My heart stopped.
I recognized the voice from childhood.
“Aunt Rebecca?”
She began crying.
David came back onto the line.
“Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. You open C-17.”
The call ended.
A second later, Alvarez’s officer came from the hallway carrying a photograph taken from Arthur’s security system.
David had not come to the office alone.
Someone had let him inside.
The officer placed the image on the desk.
Julian looked down.
Then at me.
May you like
The person opening the door for David was someone we both knew.
Sienna.
