Chapter 2 - The Woman in the PhotographMalcolm replayed the image in his mind all the way to the airport.
Eleanor.
Long auburn hair.
Same narrow face.
Same small scar near her left eyebrow.
The woman in the photograph looked older.
Thinner.
But unmistakable.
Malcolm had identified Eleanor’s body.
He had buried her.
He had stood beside her coffin while Jasper screamed that he wanted his mother back.
This could not be her.
Yet someone had intentionally placed the image in Winifred’s suitcase.
And written:
SHE KNOWS ABOUT THE CHILDREN.
Children.
Plural.
Jasper.
Asher.
But Eleanor had died before Asher was conceived.
Malcolm’s mind caught on that fact.
Asher’s mother was Malcolm’s second wife, Claire.
Claire had died during complications shortly after giving birth.
Two wives.
Two losses.
One housekeeper who had been there through both.
Winifred.
For the first time, Malcolm wondered whether eight years of loyalty had simply made him stop asking questions.
Detective Alicia Grant called while he waited at the gate.
“Mr. Hale?”
“Yes.”
“We’re at your house.”
“How are my sons?”
“Safe.”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“Thank God.”
“Your older son is with an officer upstairs. The baby has been checked by paramedics. No serious injury.”
His jaw tightened.
“And Winifred?”
“Detained.”
“Arrested?”
“Not yet.”
“What?”
“We’re separating several issues.”
“She struck my son on camera.”
“We have the recording.”
“And the money.”
“Yes.”
“And the suitcase.”
A pause.
Malcolm heard voices in the background.
“What?”
“Mr. Hale, I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did you give Winifred permission to access your safe?”
“No.”
“Does anyone else know the combination?”
“My attorney has it sealed. I know it. That’s it.”
“And your late wife?”
“Claire knew.”
“Eleanor?”
“Different safe then.”
Detective Grant went quiet.
“Why?”
“We found more cash.”
“How much?”
“Approximately sixty thousand dollars.”
Malcolm stood.
“What?”
“Inside the suitcase.”
“That isn’t mine.”
“We’re checking serial numbers.”
“What else?”
“Medications.”
“Jasper mentioned them.”
“Several prescription bottles. None issued to Winifred.”
“To whom?”
Another pause.
“Eleanor Hale.”
Malcolm stopped breathing.
“That’s impossible.”
“The prescriptions were filled recently.”
His knees nearly weakened.
“Recently?”
“Yes.”
“One month ago.”
Malcolm pressed a hand against the airport wall.
“There is no Eleanor Hale.”
“According to public records, your wife died three years ago.”
“She did.”
“We’ll verify the pharmacy.”
Malcolm stared through the terminal glass.
Planes moved slowly beyond the window.
Everything looked normal.
“How could somebody fill prescriptions under her name?”
“That’s what we need to determine.”
“And the photograph?”
“We have it.”
“Is it her?”
“I can’t answer that.”
Malcolm’s voice sharpened.
“You saw her obituary photographs.”
“Yes.”
“Does it look like her?”
Detective Grant sighed.
“Yes.”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“Jesus.”
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Winifred keeps saying the money isn’t stolen.”
“Then what is it?”
“She won’t tell us.”
“Ask her.”
“We did.”
“What does she say?”
“That if she explains before you get here, someone will know.”
Malcolm frowned.
“Someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“She won’t say.”
“Then arrest her.”
“Mr. Hale.”
“What?”
“She asked whether your phone was secure.”
Malcolm stared down at it.
“What does that mean?”
“We don’t know.”
His boarding announcement began.
“Detective, I’ll be there tonight.”
“We’ll meet then.”
Malcolm was about to disconnect.
Then Grant added:
“Your son Jasper said something we need clarified.”
“What?”
“He says Winifred has been checking the locks every night for the last two weeks.”
Malcolm frowned.
“She always checks the house.”
“He says this was different.”
“How?”
“She was looking outside.”
“For what?”
“He said cars.”
“What cars?”
“Dark SUV. Sometimes a gray sedan.”
Malcolm remembered seeing a gray sedan parked across from the house three mornings ago.
He had assumed it belonged to a contractor.
His stomach tightened.
Detective Grant continued.
“Jasper also said Winifred told him not to answer the door if a woman came asking for Asher.”
Malcolm went cold.
“What woman?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“Did he describe her?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm waited.
May you like
“A woman with red hair.”
Eleanor had red hair.
Related Stories
