Chapter 3 - The Woman at the Gate
Three days later, a woman arrived at the gate claiming to be Lily’s aunt.
Her name was Patricia Hale.
She wore a camel coat, carried a large handbag, and told the security guard she had been searching everywhere for her niece.
Dante received the call while speaking with Thomas’s cardiologist.
He stepped into the hospital corridor.
“What exactly did she say?”
“That the child belongs with family.”
Dante looked through the glass at Thomas, who was dozing against his pillows.
“Don’t let her inside.”
By the time Dante reached home, Patricia had moved from pleading to threatening.
Rosa had taken Lily upstairs.
Evelyn was already on the telephone.
Patricia stood in the entrance hall under Carmine’s supervision, having been admitted only as far as the sheltered reception area while her identity was checked.
“You can’t keep her from me,” she said when Dante entered.
“Who are you?”
“I told your people. Emily was my sister.”
Dante stopped several feet away.
“What was Emily’s middle name?”
Patricia blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Her middle name.”
“I don’t have to answer an interrogation.”
“No,” Evelyn said from the doorway. “But you will need to establish your relationship before anyone discusses a child’s care with you.”
Patricia looked at her.
“And you are?”
“Thomas Carter’s attorney.”
Something shifted in the woman’s face.
Only slightly.
But Dante saw it.
“I’m concerned about my niece.”
“Then you’ll understand why we’re careful,” Evelyn replied.
Patricia produced a photograph.
It showed her beside Emily at a picnic.
The resemblance was real.
Dante felt the first flicker of uncertainty.
Then Evelyn asked, “When did you last see Lily?”
“Recently.”
“When?”
“Last summer.”
“Where?”
Patricia’s grip tightened on her handbag.
“This is ridiculous.”
Upstairs, a door opened.
Lily appeared beside Rosa at the landing.
She looked down through the railing.
“That’s not Aunt Patty.”
Every adult turned.
Patricia lifted a hand.
“Lily, sweetheart.”
Lily stepped behind Rosa.
“Aunt Patty has a dog named Pickles.”
Patricia forced a smile.
“I used to.”
Lily shook her head.
“You said dogs were filthy.”
Evelyn moved immediately.
“Rosa, please take Lily back to her room.”
The child disappeared.
Dante looked at Patricia.
“Explain.”
For a few seconds, she seemed ready to continue.
Then the confidence drained out of her.
“I’m Patricia,” she whispered. “But she doesn’t know me. Not really.”
“How did you know she was here?”
No answer.
Evelyn asked the question again.
Patricia stared at the marble floor.
“Victor Bellini called me.”
Carmine shifted near the door.
Dante raised a hand without looking at him.
“What did he offer?”
“Money to come get her.”
The hall went silent.
“He said Thomas was dying. Said the child had been taken in by dangerous people. He said if I signed a statement about Thomas being unfit—”
She stopped.
Dante’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
Rosa reappeared at the landing.
Dante saw her face.
He understood then that every word spoken in this house might become part of what Lily remembered.
He took a breath.
“Ms. Hale,” Evelyn said, “you should obtain your own attorney before saying anything further. If you’re willing, there may be information investigators need from you.”
Patricia began crying.
“I needed the money.”
Dante looked toward the stairs.
“So did they.”
She left without Lily.
There were no threats, no locked rooms, and no triumphant confession extracted by force.
Evelyn documented what had occurred and took the next steps through proper channels.
Dante found that restraint left him shaking.
Later, he sat outside Lily’s room until Rosa told him he could come in.
Lily was drawing at a little desk.
She did not look up.
“Was she going to take me?”
“We weren’t going to send you away with someone we didn’t know.”
“People always say they know Grandpa better than I do.”
Dante pulled up a chair.
“What do you know about him?”
“He puts the warm part of the blanket on me. He says he isn’t hungry when there’s only one sandwich. He makes funny shoes for my dolls out of paper.”
Her pencil stopped.
“He’s not bad at taking care of me.”
Dante felt something break open in his chest.
“I know.”
“He just got sick.”
“I know, Lily.”
She finally looked at him.
“Then why do grown-ups keep saying it like it’s the same thing?”
Dante had no answer worthy of her.
So he told the truth.
“Sometimes grown-ups say things because they want something.”
Lily studied him.
“What do you want?”
He looked at the drawing in front of her.
A little red coat.
An old man.
May you like
A very large house.
“For you to stop having to ask that question.”
