Isabelle

Amazingly enough, the autodialer had found the combination while we were gone and the safe was now unlocked, though not yet open. “I can’t believe it worked.”

Slater removed the autodialer from the safe’s door, and then stepped aside with a wave of his hand. “All yours, love.”

That was the one thing about Slater, despite his criminal past—not once had I felt like he was interested in my money. Yet before meeting Slater, that had always been a concern, despite the fact that whoever had bothered to show me any interest already had more money than they knew what to do with. They just wanted more. And the fact that he didn’t touch anything in the safe, but rather let me be the one to go through everything only further proved his trustworthiness, even if it was a small detail.

I pulled open the unlocked safe door, the weight of it heavy and the handle cold in my hand. My heart hammered against my ribs in anticipation as I tried not to get my hopes up, since I knew chances were good that I’d soon end up disappointed. Surprisingly enough, the safe was filled with stuff.

“Could you please help me put all of this on my mom’s bed? I want to make sure I don’t overlook anything.” I figured the best way to go through everything would be to lay it all out and make sure the safe was completely empty.

“Good idea.” Slater took the bulkier items and put them on the bed as I emptied the safe of whatever was left.

We stood there looking at the stash as if it were some newly unburied treasure. And though there were jewelry boxes—no surprise there—there were also several envelopes and papers. I picked up one of the envelopes and pulled out the letter, my hands shaking. Yet it was nothing. Nothing more than a verification from a lawyer’s office about some business dealings. I picked up another envelope, and was yet again disappointed. And again. And again. One by one, I went through the papers that had been hidden away, only to find that there was absolutely no information on Andrew, and I may never get to find him.

I screamed in frustration, even as tears rolled down my cheeks. “I don’t know why I got my hopes up. Of course my mother wouldn’t leave me any information on my brother. Though you would think that after my father’s death, she would at least come clean to me about it. But no. She had an image to protect. She couldn’t have anyone whispering behind her back about her infidelity.”

Slater ran his hand down my arm, his fingers knotting with mine before he pulled me into his arms, offering me a bit of comfort and solace when it felt everything around me was crumbling. “We’ll find him, Izzy. Even if we have to hire the best investigators out there. I swear will find him.”

I let out a sigh and pulled out of his arms, feeling disheartened. Picking up one of the jewelry boxes, I opened it, even though it was doubtful anything in there would lead to Andrew, since the boxes were fairly small. Yet there was no point in not being thorough.

I searched through the first jewelry box, and was hit with a wave of emotion as I recognized all my mother’s favorite items. Her sapphire ring. Her diamond brooch. Her pearl necklace. Her diamond engagement ring. I swiped my tears, hating that I was so emotional over my mother when she was causing me so much distress. Yet no matter what, it had become clear to me just how much I missed her now that she was gone. “I hate that my mother and I didn’t have a better relationship—and now, I’ll never have the chance to fix what was between us.”

“Sweetness…do you really think your mother would have changed? It kills me to see you so upset, but I don’t want you feeling guilty about the relationship you did or didn’t have with her.” He cupped my cheek, his touch gentle and his blue eyes kind. “It was clear you did your best to make her happy, but…she wasn’t exactly an easy person to please. And I may be out of line for saying it, but she didn’t exactly take your feelings into consideration when it came to anything—not even your own life.”

I knew what he was saying was true, and to a certain degree, it did help me let go of some of my guilt and the “what-ifs” that were haunting me. Because Slater was right…she wouldn’t have changed, and I had already done all I could to make her happy—to make her love me. But I’d always fallen short—and she’d never changed. “You’re right. I know you are. It’s just…hard.”

“I know it is, love. And maybe it had nothing to do with you. Maybe it was more about her hating herself for the decisions she’d made. Maybe she couldn’t show you the love you deserved because she felt guilty about putting your brother up for adoption.” Slater let out a ragged breath and pulled me into his embrace, kissing the top of my head. “I honestly don’t know. But there’s one thing I’m sure of—she missed out on loving the most amazing person out there.”

Slater’s sweet words eased the pain in my heart. And maybe he was right. Maybe my mother had always held me at arm’s length because she felt guilty about Andrew. But now more than ever, it felt like Andrew was the missing piece of the puzzle that I needed to find.

I opened the other jewelry box, only to be disappointed once again. “Nothing here.”

“It was worth a try at least. And now you know the combination to the safe, though you may want to change that number at some point.” He started to gather everything up so we could lock it away once more. But as he started to place everything back in the safe, he paused. “Hold on a sec, love.”

He handed me back the items he’d been putting away as I tried to look over his shoulder, to see what had caught his attention. “What is it?”

“I don’t know… Something about the inside of this safe doesn’t look quite right.” He ran his hands over the interior walls, which were lined in black velvet. “I think there’s something here… Got it.” Slater pulled out a false bottom to the safe, and then stepped aside. “Izzy…I think it’s what you’ve been looking for.”

There wasn’t a lot. But it might just be enough.

“I think you’re right. I think these are about my brother.” With my heart racing, I pulled out the tray that lined the hidden compartment, my eyes falling on the few pictures that lay above a handful of papers, as I went over to the bed so I could easily go through everything.

I picked up the pictures, and looked at the first one. It was my mother when she was in her late twenties, holding an infant wrapped up in a baby-blue blanket and wearing a matching colored hat. “It has to be Andrew.”

He was so tiny, and his face was so sweet. I moved on to the next photo of a young, red-headed boy of about four or five, happily playing with a dog at a park. It left me wondering if my mother had some contact with the family who had adopted Andrew or if she’d paid someone to occasionally check up on him. If I had to guess, it was the latter, since I doubted she’d want anyone to trace Andrew back to her and risk my father finding out.

There were a few more pictures, similar to the one in the park, and these definitely felt more like they’d been taken from a distance, without Andrew’s knowledge. In one, he appeared to be around ten years old, heading toward a building—a school maybe?—and then in another picture, he was playing soccer and must have been around fourteen. “He sort of looks like me, don’t you think?”

“He does, love. His red hair’s darker than yours with a little more brown, but you both have similar eyes and freckles. The shape of your face is similar too.” He tilted his head to the papers. “Is there any information that might help find him?”

I sure as hell hoped so.

There was a letter from the adoption agency stating that they’d placed Andrew with a family but that it was a closed adoption, which meant she would have little access or information. But then there were a handful more papers with some basic information on Andrew, no doubt obtained by whomever she’d hired and had also taken those pictures.

Maybe she’d actually cared—or at the very least had been curious enough to look into Andrew’s well-being.

And then I spotted it.

A name and address.

Andrew Stephenson, of Cambridge, Massachusetts.