Chương 4
He tried to think of places Elena went when she was upset.
She walked.
She sometimes sat in hotel lobbies because she liked anonymous spaces.
She had a favorite diner in Queens where the coffee was terrible and the waitress called everyone sweetheart.
She went to a boxing gym twice a week but told almost no one.
She disliked churches.
She liked train stations.
He knew hundreds of things about her.
None of them told him who she was.
Claire said, “Michael used to disappear too.”
Daniel looked over.
“When?”
“When we fought.”
“Where did he go?”
“Usually somewhere boring. Laundromat. Twenty-four-hour grocery store. Once I found him in a hardware store comparing extension cords.”
Despite everything, Daniel smiled.
“That sounds like him.”
“You barely knew him.”
“I liked him.”
Claire nodded.
“He liked you.”
The light changed.
She drove another block before speaking.
“He didn’t like Dad.”
Daniel leaned back.
“That’s becoming less surprising.”
“No. He really didn’t.”
“You never told me.”
“Because Dad hated him too, and I spent two years pretending those two things had nothing to do with my life.”
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel.
“Michael kept saying Richard Vale didn’t collect art because he loved it. He collected proof that he could own things other people couldn’t.”
“What did you say?”
“That he was jealous.”
Claire swallowed.
“I was twenty-one. Dad paid my rent. Michael had student loans and one jacket he wore to everything.”
Daniel watched her face.
“Did he tell you about the provenance investigation?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
Claire glanced at him sharply.
“Don’t.”
“I’m asking.”
“I know what you’re asking.”
“Then answer.”
She stopped the car at the curb so suddenly the driver behind them honked.
Claire turned toward him.
“I spent ten years wondering what I missed. Ten years. If you want to interrogate me, get in line behind me.”
Daniel looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
She breathed through her nose.
Then the horn behind them sounded again.
Claire rolled down her window and shouted, “Go around.”
The driver did.
She rolled the window back up.
“Sorry.”
Daniel almost laughed again.
Instead he opened the locket.
The scratched face bothered him.
“Why scratch him out?”
Claire stared at the photo.
“She didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Michael did that.”
Daniel looked at her.
Claire reached across and tapped the damaged surface.
“He used to scratch himself out of photographs when he hated how he looked. It drove me insane.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No. He ruined one from my graduation.”
Daniel looked closer.
The scratches did not cross Elena’s younger face.
Only Michael’s.
A stupid habit.
An ordinary habit.
A clue no one else could have manufactured convincingly.
The picture had belonged to Michael.
Claire’s eyes moved to the back of the locket.
“Open the photograph insert.”
“What?”
“There’s a hinge.”
Daniel examined it.
Claire took the locket gently.
“My grandmother had one like this.”
She pressed a tiny lip beneath the photograph.
The oval insert lifted.
Behind it lay a second miniature image.
Three people.
Michael stood on the left. Elena—Anna—stood in the middle. On the right was a woman Daniel recognized after several seconds.
His mother.
Judith Vale.
Claire whispered, “What the hell?”
The photograph had been taken outdoors. Judith looked younger but unmistakable, wearing sunglasses and holding a canvas tote bag. Anna looked perhaps nineteen. Michael looked tired.
On the back, in faded ink, someone had written:
Santa Fe, April 2016.
Three months before Michael died.
Daniel stared at the date.
“Mom knew them.”
Claire was already calling.
Judith answered on the fourth ring.
“Claire?”
“Did you know Anna Reyes?”
Silence.
Claire closed her eyes.
“Mom.”
Judith’s voice changed.
“Where are you?”
“In the car.”
“With Daniel?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
Then Judith said, “Do not go back to your father.”
Daniel took the phone.
“Mom, what is this?”
“Where is Anna?”
“We don’t know.”
“Is she safe?”
“Why are you calling my wife Anna?”
Judith inhaled shakily.
“Because that is her name.”
Daniel rested his forehead against the cool window.
Claire whispered something he did not catch.
“Did you know before I married her?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt more because Judith did not soften it.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“How long?”
“From the first time you brought her to dinner.”
“That was six years ago.”
“I know.”
“You knew for six years.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I made a promise.”
“To her?”
“To Michael.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
Claire looked as though someone had struck her.
Judith said, “Come to my apartment.”
“You have an apartment?”
Another silence.
Richard and Judith had announced their separation six months earlier but publicly described it as temporary. Richard remained in the family townhouse. Judith supposedly traveled.
Claire almost smiled.
“Apparently everybody has a second life.”
Judith gave them an address in Brooklyn Heights.
Before ending the call, she said, “Do not bring Richard.”
Claire looked through the windshield after the call ended.
“I hate this family.”
Daniel pocketed the locket.
“Get in line.”
Judith’s apartment was small by Vale standards, which meant it would still have cost more than most people earned in a decade. She opened the door barefoot, wearing gray trousers and a sweater.
She saw Daniel’s face.
“Come inside.”
He did not move.
“Was my entire marriage some arrangement?”
“No.”
“You knew her real name.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was Michael’s sister.”
“Yes.”
“You knew why she came into our lives?”
Judith hesitated.
That was enough.
Daniel turned away.
“Daniel.”
He stopped at the elevator.
Judith said, “She did not come for you.”
He looked back.
“That is somehow worse.”
“No. Listen to me. She did not target you. She came because of Richard.”
Claire leaned against the hallway wall.
“I’m going to need everyone to stop saying things like that as if they improve the next sentence.”
Judith rubbed her hands together.
“Please come in.”
They did.
The apartment smelled of peppermint tea.
May you like
Daniel nearly laughed at the normality of it.
Judith made tea without asking whether anyone wanted it. Claire accepted a cup. Daniel did not.
