Chapter 10: The Girl in the Photograph
My father's blood was warm against my hands.
I pressed both palms against his chest, trying to stop the bleeding.
“Dad, stay with me.””
His eyes fluttered.
“Listen to me, Nia.””
“Don't talk. Help is coming.””
He grabbed my wrist.
“Find Elena.””
“Who is she?””
He tried to speak, but blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“Your mother... she knew.””
Then his grip loosened.
I shouted for help.
The two men who had approached us were already running toward the SUV. One climbed into the passenger seat while the other fired another shot into the air.
I pulled my weapon and aimed.
“Police! Stop!””
They accelerated.
I fired once at the vehicle's rear tire, but the SUV swerved, struck the curb, and disappeared down the access road.
I turned back to my father.
He wasn't moving.
“Dad?””
Nothing.
I pressed my fingers against his neck.
A pulse.
Weak, but there.
I called emergency services and gave our location. Then I called Morrison.
He answered immediately.
“Carter?””
“My father has been shot. I need an ambulance and an armed response team at the river bridge.””
“Are you injured?””
“No. But I need you to listen carefully. Two suspects escaped in a black SUV. They were targeting my father.””
“Where is he?””
“On the bridge. He's losing blood.””
Morrison's voice sharpened.
“Stay with him. I'm sending everyone.””
I looked at my phone.
Elena Whitmore was still calling.
I rejected the call.
Then it rang again.
I answered.
“Who is this?””
A woman's voice replied.
“I'm Elena.””
I looked down at the photograph.
The little girl in the yellow dress.
“Why are you calling me?””
“Because your father just made a terrible mistake.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What mistake?””
“He told you the truth.””
“What truth?””
“That I'm your sister.””
I couldn't speak.
Elena continued.
“My biological mother was Patricia Carter. Your mother adopted me when I was six months old. Michael arranged the adoption under a false identity because he was afraid the mayor would discover who I really was.””
I looked toward the ambulance lights appearing in the distance.
“Then why does the mayor call you his daughter?””
“Because he raised me.””
I closed my eyes.
“Why did my father say you killed my mother?””
Elena was silent.
Then she whispered, “Because I was in the car.””
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
“You were eight years old?””
“Yes.””
“You couldn't have killed her.””
“I didn't drive the car, Nia. But I gave Derek the location.””
I stared at the river.
“What?””
“My mother told me your mother was going to destroy our family. She said if I gave Derek the address, he would stop the meeting.””
“You were a child.””
“I know.””
“Did you know what he was going to do?””
“No.””
Her voice broke.
“I thought he was going to take some papers. I didn't know there would be a crash.””
I looked at the photograph again.
The little girl was smiling.
I wondered how many people had protected her, how many people had lied, and how many lives had been destroyed because of one decision made by a frightened child.
“Where are you now?”” I asked.
“At City Hall.””
“Is Malik there?””
“Yes.””
“Is he being held against his will?””
A pause.
Then Elena said, “He's been given a choice.””
“What choice?””
“Confess to the disappearances or watch the mayor release the evidence against him.””
I looked at my father's bloodied face.
“That's not a choice.””
“No. It isn't.””
I lowered my voice.
“Why are you helping me?””
“Because I found something in the mayor's private office.””
“What?””
“The original recording.””
My heart raced.
“My mother's recording?””
“Yes. The complete version.””
“Why do you have it?””
“Because my father has been looking for it for eight years.””
I glanced at the ambulance.
“Can you get it out?””
“I already did.””
“Where is it?””
Elena took a shaky breath.
“Inside a red folder in the mayor's conference room. But Nia, there's something else you need to know.””
“What?””
“The person who ordered your mother's death wasn't my father.””
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?””
“Someone used his authority. Someone signed the relocation orders without his knowledge.””
“Who?””
Elena lowered her voice.
“Your aunt Patricia.””
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Patricia.
My aunt.
The woman who had helped raise us.
The woman who had spent eight years pretending she was simply grieving alongside us.
The woman who had claimed to be protecting my brother.
I looked at the ambulance crew as they lifted my father onto a stretcher.
Morrison arrived seconds later.
He approached me.
“Is he going to make it?””
“I don't know.””
He glanced at my phone.
“Who called?””
“Elena Whitmore.””
Morrison's expression changed.
“What did she say?””
“She claims she's my sister. She also says Patricia ordered the operation that led to my mother's death.””
He looked toward the ambulance.
“Carter, we need to get you somewhere secure.””
I shook my head.
“Malik is at City Hall.””
“We'll handle that.””
“No. Elena has the original recording. We need to get it before Patricia does.””
Morrison stared at me.
“Did she tell you where it was?””
“Mayor's conference room. Red folder.””
He called two investigators and ordered them to City Hall.
Then he looked at me.
“You're coming with me.””
I nodded.
But as we approached the vehicles, my phone vibrated.
A new message.
From Patricia.
Sweetheart, I heard about Michael.
Another message appeared.
I'm so sorry.
Then a photograph.
It showed Patricia standing inside a hospital corridor.
Behind her was a door marked ICU.
Room 309.
The room where Malik had supposedly been photographed.
The final message contained just seven words.
Your father should have stayed dead.
I looked at Morrison.
He read the message.
His face hardened.
“Get in the car.””
As we pulled away, I noticed something in the photograph I hadn't seen before.
The hospital wristband on Patricia's arm.
It carried a different name.
Not Patricia Carter.
Not Patricia Whitmore.
The name printed on it was:
*DR. PATRICIA HARRIS.*
And beneath it was a department identification number.
My aunt wasn't simply connected to the operation.
May you like
She had been working inside the system.
For years.
