Chapter 5 - The Woman in the Photograph
Victor Flores entered smiling.
He was sixty-three, silver-haired and elegant.
Nothing about him looked like murder.
Selena immediately understood why that was dangerous.
Victor embraced Dempster.
Dempster did not return it.
Then Victor noticed Selena.
“Mrs. Flores.”
His eyes dropped to her ring.
Something flashed across his face.
Recognition.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Selena saw it.
“So you heard about our marriage?” she asked.
Victor smiled.
“Everyone heard.”
“Before or after it happened?”
Silence.
Dempster’s gaze sharpened.
Victor laughed.
“You married well, Dempster. Suspicious already.”
He claimed Celia was lying.
Claimed Marianne had been unstable before her death.
Selena had heard men use that word before.
Emotional.
Unstable.
Difficult.
Words that conveniently appeared when a woman became inconvenient.
“Did you threaten Celia?”
“No.”
“Did you know my mother?”
“Barely.”
Selena held up the photograph.
Victor’s smile vanished.
Behind Marianne and Gabriel, reflected faintly in a mirror, stood Victor.
Barely.
Dempster escorted him out.
Victor paused beside Selena.
“You don't know what your mother started.”
“No,” Selena replied. “But I'm going to finish it.”
Victor’s eyes became cold.
That night Selena could not sleep.
Dempster found her in the kitchen at two in the morning eating leftover chocolate cake.
He sat opposite her.
No judgment.
“You always wander around armed?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Romantic.”
“We should put it in the vows.”
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised them both.
Dempster looked at her in a way that made the enormous kitchen suddenly feel smaller.
Selena looked down.
“You don't have to pretend I'm attractive because we're married.”
His expression hardened.
“Who said I was pretending?”
“Dempster.”
“Selena.”
She sighed.
“You don't have to fix what Alidoro broke.”
“No.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“But I can refuse to repeat his lie.”
She met his eyes.
“You are beautiful.”
No performance.
No teasing.
Just certainty.
Selena swallowed.
Then Dempster’s phone buzzed.
Security had traced key 317.
A private vault at Grand Central Terminal.
The next morning they went together.
Inside locker 317 was a hard drive, an old phone and another photograph.
Selena picked up the photograph.
Her mother stood beside Celia.
And a third woman.
Selena recognized her.
Alidoro’s mother.
Helena Wright.
On the back:
Three copies. Three women. If one falls, the others finish it.
Selena stared at Dempster.
“Alidoro’s mother knew?”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Dempster answered.
A woman spoke.
“Give Selena the drive and walk away.”
Dempster’s eyes darkened.
“Helena?”
Selena froze.
The voice replied:
“You finally remembered me.”
Then the locker-room lights went out.
Something moved behind Selena.
May you like
A hand covered her mouth.
And Dempster shouted her name.
