Chapter 3
Former military intelligence.
Broad shoulders.
Gray beginning at his temples.
A man who could spot a concealed weapon from across a ballroom and remember every license plate parked outside.
He met me near the front staircase.
"There's someone outside the south gate."
"I don't care."
"She's been there since eleven this morning."
I continued walking.
"Then remove her."
"She keeps asking about the caregiver position."
"We aren't hiring."
"I told her."
I stopped because Prescott had not moved.
Prescott always moved.
"What?"
"She says she knows Jonah and Blythe are dying."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Nobody outside my family, the medical team, and a handful of security personnel knew how severe their condition was.
The official explanation for my absence from public life was that my children were receiving treatment for a manageable blood disorder.
"Where is she?"
"Still outside."
"Bring her in."
Minutes later, two guards escorted a woman into my office.
She looked around thirty.
Maybe younger.
Poverty ages people strangely.
Her dark brown coat was worn white at the seams.
Water dripped from the ends of her black hair.
Her shoes were soaked through.
She had no purse.
No phone that I could see.
No jewelry.
No visible weapon.
She looked exhausted, cold, and terrified.
But she did not look away from me.
"Name?"
"Elena Ward."
"How do you know about my children?"
Her throat moved when she swallowed.
"I can't explain until I see them."
"You'll explain now."
"I promised her."
"Promised who?"
Instead of answering, Elena reached beneath her sweater.
Three guards moved simultaneously.
Prescott's hand went beneath his jacket.
"Stop."
Everyone froze.
Elena slowly pulled a silver chain over her head.
A tiny blue stone swung from it.
My breath disappeared.
I knew every scratch on that pendant.
I had bought it in Florence during the first year of my marriage.
Genevieve and I had been too busy to take a proper honeymoon, so we stole four days in Italy between meetings.
We argued about restaurants.
Got lost twice.
Ate terrible food near the train station because every good place had closed.
On our final evening, I saw that necklace in a narrow shop window.
Genevieve told me it was too expensive.
I bought it anyway.
She wore it almost every day for the next nine years.
She had been buried wearing it.
"Where did you get that?"
Elena's eyes filled.
"Your wife gave it to me."