Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Vanished
Roman's boardroom occupied the highest floor of the family headquarters, overlooking the harbor that had made the Castellions wealthy. On a clear morning, the windows offered a panorama of container ships, church steeples, and distant islands. Today, black clouds flattened the skyline, and Roman's uncle sat at the long conference table as if he already owned the building. Marcus wore a navy suit, a silver tie clip, and the expression of a man arranging a necessary funeral.
“Roman,” he said warmly. “I'm glad you came. You've been difficult to reach since that appalling business at dinner.”
“An attempted assassination generally disrupts my calendar.”
A few directors shifted uncomfortably. Marcus did not. “Which is precisely why I have called this meeting. We need to discuss whether your personal difficulties have begun to damage the company.” He pushed a folder across the table. Inside were photocopies of accounts Roman did not recognize, each bearing his electronically reproduced authorization. Money had been moved through the same shell companies listed in Michael's notebook. Marcus had prepared the trap before Roman knew a trap existed.
Roman's personal attorney, Abigail Chen, examined the papers. “These documents have not been authenticated. My client will cooperate with an independent investigation, but he will not endorse an emergency vote based on material provided by the man whose tenure is under review.”
Marcus's smile thinned. “You're questioning my integrity in front of the board?”
“Yes,” Roman said. “And I'm doing it on the record.”
He presented a limited summary of irregular transactions without exposing where the original ledger was kept. Several directors demanded an outside audit. Others looked toward Marcus, worried by how easily the argument had turned. The meeting ended without a vote, but Marcus had achieved something important: the press now possessed rumors that Roman's business might be the center of a financial scandal. If he could discredit Roman first, any subsequent accusation might sound like a desperate attempt to retain power.
Across town, Sienna and David searched for Lydia Rourke. Her apartment had been emptied with an efficiency that suggested advance warning, yet there was one detail the intruders overlooked: a grocery receipt tucked inside a library book. The receipt carried purchases made that morning at a harbor convenience store near the north ferry terminal. David checked the available surveillance through proper police channels. Lydia appeared on camera in a gray coat, her face hidden beneath a knitted hat, purchasing bottled water and a prepaid telephone.
“She ran because she knew they'd come for her,” Sienna said.
“Or someone took her shopping at gunpoint,” David replied. “We can't assume either.”
Lydia's silver lighthouse necklace troubled Sienna. Elena Castellion had commissioned charms shaped like lighthouses for women who volunteered with the family foundation. Sienna remembered wearing one on her eighth birthday, given by her mother. Michael's recorded warning referred to someone who helped him, and now that person was missing. If Lydia had been honest for five years, the silence must have been crushing. If she was not honest, she might be leading them toward a second ambush.
At the terminal, Sienna saw a familiar figure sitting on the bench near a coffee kiosk. Lydia looked ten years older than she had at the funeral. Her hands trembled around a paper cup. When David approached, she bolted for the exit, then stopped when Sienna called her father's name. The older woman turned as though struck.
“Michael trusted you,” Sienna said. “He recorded your initials before he died. Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the last woman who stood beside him ended up dead.” Lydia's voice cracked. “And I helped them find her.”
Sienna felt cold spread through her body. David signaled the plainclothes officer near the door to remain outside hearing distance. Lydia explained that Marcus had threatened to close the charitable foundation and expose fabricated charges against its employees unless she reported Elena's meetings. She believed she was passing along harmless schedules until she heard Michael had been pulled from the river. By then Marcus had evidence of Lydia's involvement in an unrelated accounting violation, enough to make her fear prison and the loss of custody of her teenage nephew. So she stayed silent. Her cowardice had become a cage she helped maintain.
“I didn't kill anyone,” Lydia whispered. “But I told Marcus when Elena planned to meet the medical examiner. Three days later, she was gone. I have heard that phone call in my head every night since.”
Sienna wanted to hate her. She wanted it so badly that her vision blurred. But Michael's message had not said Lydia was innocent. It said to find her before trusting a confession. Lydia might have something more valuable than remorse.
“What did you keep?” Sienna asked.
Lydia reached into her coat and pulled out a thin envelope. Inside was a signed statement written five years earlier, the night before Elena's death. It described Marcus's threats, Gabriel's involvement, and a meeting with Dr. Voss to discuss a suspicious financial arrangement. There was also a small digital recorder. Lydia had turned it on during a confrontation with Marcus, hoping to protect herself if he tried to make her the next person to disappear.
“Why bring this now?” David asked.
“Gabriel called yesterday. He said Roman's maid found the old books. He told me Marcus had chosen who would die next.” Her gaze settled on Sienna. “He named you first.”
Roman arrived to find the three of them in a private office at the terminal. He greeted Lydia without warmth but listened to her statement from beginning to end. For once, he did not look like a man prepared to issue orders. He looked like a son learning how many adults had watched his family fall apart and chosen safety over truth.
Lydia's recorder contained a partial conversation with Marcus. He discussed payments to a physician and demanded that she hand over letters Elena had entrusted to her. The recording ended with Marcus saying, “I buried the last problem. I can bury this one.” It was suggestive, powerful, and still not enough by itself to establish murder. Abigail would need the original audio and an expert to verify it.
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That evening, Lydia entered a protective location arranged through an outside attorney. Sienna watched her leave and felt neither forgiveness nor satisfaction. She felt tired. She had imagined justice as a door that opened onto certainty. Instead, every answer seemed to reveal one more person who had been frightened into silence.
Before driving away, Lydia pressed a handwritten number into Sienna's palm. “It's Gabriel's other phone. Don't call it. He watches who calls. If you want to know what happened to your father, find out who he was speaking to at 11:47 that night.” Roman checked the call records against the estate's old logs. The number Gabriel called belonged to a police lieutenant who had signed the original report declaring Michael's death an accidental drowning. The lieutenant was now Boston's deputy commissioner.
