The Woman in the Photograph
We found Graham Ellis three days later.
Not in New York.
Not in London.
Not even in England.
He was in Switzerland.
He had checked into a private clinic under another name.
When Daniel called me, I was sitting beside Noah in a small café near the hotel.
“Do we bring him back?”
“Yes.”
“He has lawyers.”
“Then we'll have lawyers.”
“He claims medical privacy.”
“Then we'll follow the law.”
Daniel paused.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“He asked to speak with you.”
I looked at Noah.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Maya—”
“If he wants to talk, he can talk through legal counsel.”
Daniel agreed.
But an hour later, another message arrived.
Not from Graham.
From an unknown number.
You have the wrong enemy.
I stared at the screen.
Another message followed.
Ask Richard about the woman in the photograph.
I looked at the photograph from my father's safe.
My father.
Me.
The hotel.
Nothing else.
I enlarged it.
Daniel looked over my shoulder.
“What woman?”
“I don't know.”
We studied the photograph again.
Then I noticed something.
In the background.
Near the hotel entrance.
A woman stood beside a black car.
She was barely visible.
But she was watching my father.
I enlarged the image.
Her face was partially turned.
I recognized her.
I couldn't remember from where.
Then Richard walked into the room.
I showed him the photograph.
His face changed immediately.
“You know her.”
He didn't answer.
“Richard.”
He sat down.
“Her name was Evelyn Price.”
“Jonathan's wife?”
“Yes.”
“What was she doing there?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“She worked for your father.”
“As what?”
“Private secretary.”
I stared at him.
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because she wasn't supposed to be involved.”
“In what?”
He looked at me.
“Your father's investigation.”
“Was she involved?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
Richard didn't answer.
“Richard.”
“She died.”
“When?”
“Two months before your father.”
My chest tightened.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Another accident.”
Richard nodded.
“Two accidents.”
“In two months.”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone investigate?”
“Yes.”
“Conclusion?”
“Accident.”
I stood.
“No.”
Richard looked at me.
“No?”
“I don't believe in coincidences anymore.”
Neither did he.
That night, I put Noah to bed.
Then I returned to the living room.
Daniel was waiting.
“What did you find?”
He opened a file.
“Evelyn Price wasn't just your father's secretary.”
“What else?”
“She was the person who discovered the financial network.”
I sat.
“How?”
“She noticed duplicate invoices.”
“From where?”
“Beaumont Crown.”
I closed my eyes.
Again.
Always Beaumont.
The hotel wasn't just where my investigation had begun.
It was where my father's investigation had begun.
Daniel opened another document.
“Evelyn kept copies.”
“Where?”
“We don't know.”
“Then find them.”
“We're trying.”
I looked at the photograph.
There was something about Evelyn's expression.
She looked frightened.
But not of my father.
She was looking past him.
Toward someone else.
I enlarged the image again.
A man stood beside the hotel entrance.
Only his profile was visible.
I stared.
Then I recognized him.
My breath stopped.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Zoom in.”
He did.
The man's face became clearer.
It was Graham Ellis.
But Graham had told everyone he had been in New York that day.
The date on the photograph was two months before my father's death.
Graham had lied.
I stood.
“That's him.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then we know one thing.”
“What?”
“My father knew he was being watched.”
I looked toward the hallway where Noah was sleeping.
And suddenly, the entire story became personal.
Not corporate.
Not financial.
Not historical.
Personal.
Someone had threatened my father.
Someone had watched him.
Someone had killed Evelyn.
And someone had spent fifteen years ensuring I never knew why.
I picked up the photograph.
“We're going to find out who.”
Daniel looked at me.
“And if they come after you?”
I thought about Vanessa at the reception desk.
The small duffel bag.
Noah's old sneakers.
The sentence:
People like you.
I smiled faintly.
“They already did.”
I looked at the photograph one last time.
“They just didn't realize who they were dealing with.”
Evelyn's Missing File
The first thing I did the next morning was cancel every meeting on my calendar.
The second thing I did was call Jonathan Price again.
He didn't answer.
I tried his office.
Nothing.
His assistant said he was unavailable.
I asked where he was.
She refused to tell me.
I called again.
Still nothing.
By ten in the morning, I had stopped asking politely.
“Find him,” I told Daniel.
“We're trying.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I don't want trying.”
Daniel understood.
“You want an answer.”
“I want Evelyn Price's files.”
He nodded.
“We're working on it.”
The problem was that Evelyn had disappeared from almost every official record.
Her employment file existed.
Her tax records existed.
Her address history existed.
But her work product was almost completely gone.
It was as though someone had carefully erased her from the company.
That didn't happen by accident.
People left companies every day.
They left emails.
Reports.
Invoices.
Notes.
Meeting invitations.
Performance reviews.
But Evelyn had almost nothing.
Her employee profile contained only basic information.
Name.
Position.
Start date.
End date.
No performance notes.
No salary history.
No disciplinary record.
No exit interview.
No resignation letter.
I stared at the screen.
“Who deleted this?”
Daniel shook his head.
“We don't know.”
“Find out.”
He looked at me.
“Maya, there are dozens of ways someone could have done it fifteen years ago.”
“Then find one.”
He sighed.
“I will.”
I went to Beaumont Crown.
The lobby looked exactly as it had the night I arrived.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
Immaculate.
The same marble floor.
The same white lilies.
The same soft piano.
But I no longer saw luxury.