Chapter 2 - The Man Who Went Pale
The elevator doors opened slowly.
Vincent stepped in front of the girls before I even saw who was inside.
Two men emerged.
Neither appeared dangerous.
One carried a leather medical bag.
The other was older, silver-haired, wearing an expensive navy suit.
Isabella's terror intensified.
She buried her face against Mia.
Vincent's voice turned cold.
"Dr. Keller."
The silver-haired man stopped.
"Vincent."
I recognized the name.
Dr. Samuel Keller.
I'd heard Vincent mention six specialists.
Apparently this was one of them.
"What are you doing here?" Vincent asked.
Keller looked around the empty restaurant.
"Dominic called me."
Every face turned toward Dominic.
He said nothing.
Vincent's stare hardened.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago," Keller said.
"Before the music box opened."
Keller looked confused.
"What music box?"
Vincent held up the key.
Keller's expression didn't change.
But his hand tightened around the handle of his briefcase.
That was enough.
Vincent noticed everything now.
"Room 317," he said.
Keller blinked once.
Dominic muttered, "This is getting out of control."
Vincent looked at him.
"No. I think it's finally getting honest."
Keller sighed.
"Vincent, Isabella's condition is fragile. Whatever you're doing—"
"My daughter just spoke."
Keller stopped.
The other man looked at Isabella.
"She what?"
"She said two words."
"Under what circumstances?"
"She saw you."
Keller's face tightened.
Vincent stepped closer.
"Tell me what happened eleven months ago."
"I already have."
"No. You gave me medical terms. Trauma-induced mutism. Dissociative response. Selective speech inhibition."
"Those diagnoses were accurate."
"Maybe."
Vincent held up the key.
"But you never mentioned a room."
Keller looked at Dominic.
Again.
That tiny movement told Vincent more than any confession.
"Get them downstairs," Vincent ordered.
Dominic frowned.
"Where?"
"317."
"There is no 317 here."
"Then why are you afraid of the key?"
Nobody answered.
Vincent looked at one of his security men.
"Find what the number belongs to."
The man nodded and disappeared.
I took Mia's hand.
"We're leaving."
Vincent turned.
"Claire."
"You said five minutes."
"I know."
"My daughter isn't evidence."
"No."
"She isn't a therapist."
"No."
"And she isn't going into whatever this is."
Vincent looked at Isabella.
The girl was holding Mia's other hand.
"Please."
One word.
A billionaire rumored to frighten judges, executives, and criminals was asking a waitress for permission.
It would have been easier if he had threatened me.
I could have hated him.
Instead I saw a father standing inches from the answer to the worst year of his life.
"Mia decides," I said.
Vincent frowned.
"She's four."
"Exactly. Which means I'm not letting adults use her because they're desperate."
I crouched beside my daughter.
"Do you want to stay with Isabella?"
Mia nodded instantly.
"She's scared."
"I know."
"She doesn't want me to go."
Isabella squeezed Mia's hand.
I sighed.
"We stay together."
Vincent nodded.
"Always."
The security man returned several minutes later.
"317 isn't in this building."
Dominic exhaled almost imperceptibly.
"But," the man continued, "the key is stamped with the logo for Halcyon Storage."
Vincent's eyes moved to Dominic.
I saw recognition there.
"Where?"
"West Forty-Seventh."
Vincent went still.
Dominic whispered, "Vincent."
"What?"
"You know what's at Forty-Seventh."
"I know what used to be there."
Keller stepped forward.
"This is a terrible idea."
Vincent smiled.
"Then you don't have to come."
Keller looked relieved.
Vincent's smile disappeared.
"But you are."
Twenty minutes later I was sitting in the back of a black SUV wondering how my life had gone from lunch service to accompanying a suspected crime boss across Manhattan.
Mia and Isabella sat between me and Vincent.
Isabella hadn't spoken again.
But something had changed.
She kept touching her throat.
As if surprised sound had come out.
Vincent noticed.
"Does it hurt?"
She shook her head.
"Can you say anything else?"
I touched his arm.
"Don't."
His eyes flashed.
Then softened.
"Right."
He looked away.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
Isabella leaned against him.
He closed his eyes.
For a moment the tattoos, the rumors, the guards, the convoy of vehicles around us disappeared.
He was simply a father holding his child.
Dominic rode in another vehicle with Keller.
Vincent insisted on it.
"Who is Elena?" I asked.
His eyes opened.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Dominic said the box belonged to her."
Vincent stared through the window.
"My wife."
"Isabella's mother?"
"Yes."
"What happened to her?"
"She died."
The answer was too fast.
"How?"
"Car accident."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
I looked at Isabella.
"Was she there?"
"No."
"Then why does a music box belonging to her mother make her afraid?"
Vincent didn't answer.
I tried another question.
"What happened eleven months ago?"
His jaw tightened.
"We were at my townhouse."
"Who was there?"
"Me. Isabella. Dominic. Two housekeepers. Security."
"And Keller?"
"He came later."
"What happened?"
Vincent stared at his daughter.
"I found Isabella in Elena's old bedroom."
"Doing what?"
"Nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"She was sitting on the floor."
He swallowed.
"The music box was beside her."
My skin prickled.
"Was it open?"
"Yes."
"And then?"
"She never spoke again."
We reached Halcyon Storage.
The building was far less glamorous than the restaurant.
Gray concrete.
Metal doors.
Fluorescent lights.
No chandeliers.
No skyline.
The manager nearly dropped his clipboard when Vincent entered.
Room 317 was on the third floor.
A private archival unit.
Registered under an LLC Vincent claimed he didn't recognize.
Dominic stood beside Keller while security unlocked the corridor.
Isabella refused to step off the elevator.
Mia stayed beside her.
"We can wait here," I said.
Vincent nodded.
"No one leaves this floor."
He, Dominic, Keller, and two guards continued down the hall.
I watched until they reached 317.
The key fit.
Dominic closed his eyes.
Vincent saw.
"You've been here."
"No."
"That wasn't a question."
Dominic didn't answer.
Vincent opened the door.
The room looked empty.
One chair.
One metal cabinet.
One old television.
And a wooden table.
On the table sat another swan.
This one was broken.
Its neck had snapped cleanly in half.
Vincent entered.
Keller stayed at the threshold.
"Don't touch anything," he said.
Vincent looked at him.
"Doctor, you are running out of useful sentences."
I could hear every word from the elevator.
Vincent opened the metal cabinet.
Inside were dozens of folders.
Each labeled with dates.
He pulled one out.
His face changed.
"What?" Dominic asked.
Vincent didn't answer.
He opened another.
Then another.
His hands began shaking.
"Vincent?" I called.
He looked toward me.
Not angry.
Not dangerous.
Destroyed.
He held up a folder.
A photograph slipped out.
It landed face-up.
I could see Isabella in the picture.
Younger.
Asleep.
There were wires attached to her head.
Keller stepped backward.
Vincent slowly turned toward him.
"What did you do to my daughter?"
Keller's mouth opened.
No answer came.
Dominic stepped between them.
"Vincent, listen to me."
"You knew."
"I was trying to protect—"
Vincent hit the cabinet with his fist.
The sound made Isabella flinch.
He immediately looked ashamed.
Then Mia tugged my sleeve.
"Mommy."
I crouched.
"What?"
She was looking at the wall beside the elevator.
There was a narrow seam in the concrete.
A door.
No handle.
Mia pointed.
"Isabella keeps looking there."
I followed her gaze.
Isabella was staring at the seam.
Her breathing had quickened.
Vincent noticed and came back toward us.
"What's behind that wall?"
The storage manager shook his head.
"Nothing. That's structural."
Mia touched the concrete.
"No."
"Mia, don't."
She leaned closer.
"I hear music."
Everyone stopped.
At first I heard nothing.
Then—
Very faintly—
A melody.
The same soft tune the swan music box had played when Vincent touched it.
Dominic whispered something under his breath.
Vincent heard.
"What did you say?"
Dominic said nothing.
Vincent grabbed his shoulder.
"Say it again."
Dominic looked at Isabella.
Then at me.
Finally he whispered:
"Elena's lullaby."
Vincent released him.
The color vanished from his face.
"That song was never recorded."
Dominic closed his eyes.
Vincent turned toward the hidden seam.
One of his guards found a pressure panel.
A concealed lock clicked.
The wall opened inward.
Darkness waited behind it.
May you like
And from somewhere inside, a woman's voice began speaking.
"Vincent, if you're hearing this, Isabella finally remembered."
