Chapter 5 - THE TORN PHOTOGRAPH
The little boy rubbed his eyes, squinting against the harsh light of the storage corridor.
“Daddy?” he asked, his small voice echoing off the concrete walls.
I felt the ground tilt beneath me. Twenty-six years of marriage. We had one son in college. I thought I knew every corner of Paul’s life.
Lauren fell to her knees in front of the boy. “Are you Chloe’s baby? Where is your mom?”
The boy stepped back, frightened by her tears. “Mommy went to get the money. She said Daddy was taking us away on a train.”
Mr. Falcone’s guards brought Paul into the unit, his hands zip-tied behind his back. When Paul saw the boy, he squeezed his eyes shut.
“You kept a child in a storage unit?” Mr. Falcone asked, disgust dripping from every word.
“I had to hide them!” Paul cried. “The Morettis found out about Chloe. They knew I loved her. They were going to use Tommy to make me pay the debt.”
“You took my retirement money to run away with another family,” I stated, the numbness finally giving way to a searing, blinding rage.
Lauren stood up, her grief morphing into fury. She began tearing through a duffel bag on the cot. “Where is my sister, Paul? You said she went to get the money. What money?”
She pulled a handful of papers from the bag, scattering them on the floor. A torn photograph fluttered to my feet.
I picked it up. It showed Paul and a young, blonde woman—Chloe. They were smiling on a beach. But it was the man standing in the background that made my blood run cold.
It was Mr. Falcone’s head of security, the very man standing next to him right now.
Mr. Falcone saw the photo in my hand. His eyes narrowed.
May you like
Before anyone could speak, the security guard drew his weapon and pointed it directly at Mr. Falcone’s back.
“Nobody moves,” the guard said.
