Chapter 153: Where Art Thou?

Victoria Sebastian wore two cucumber slices over her eyes and enough white facial mask to make her look vaguely deceased.

At least, that was the impression the private investigator standing beside the pool gave.

"How much to locate a missing person?" Victoria asked.

"That depends. Is the person actually missing, or is she hiding?"

Victoria lifted one cucumber slice and looked at him.

"Does it matter?"

"To my fee? Absolutely."

Fair enough.

Victoria reached toward the table beside her lounge chair and pulled an old photograph from her bag.

"Find this woman, and I’ll pay you handsomely."

The investigator took the photograph.

The woman in it was considerably younger, dressed in the uniform once worn by the household staff at the Sebastian residence.

"Her name is Maribel Ortega," Victoria continued. "I believe she should still be using that name. Her marriage never went through."

"Age?"

Victoria told him.

"She worked for me for eighteen years. She may still be living somewhere nearby, perhaps in one of the neighboring cities."

The investigator studied the photograph.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Several years ago."

"And you have no current address?"

"If I had her address, I wouldn’t be paying you to find her."

The man glanced at Victoria.

She lowered the cucumber slice back over her eye.

Apparently, that answered that.

"And when I find her?"

"Bring her to me."

"No."

Victoria removed both cucumbers.

"No?"

"I’m a private investigator, Mrs. Sebastian. Not a bouncer."

"I’ll pay another fee."

"Still not a bouncer."

Victoria considered him.

"All right. Convince her to come see me."

"I can ask. If she refuses, she refuses."

"Fine. But I want her found as soon as possible."

"What did she do?"

"You don’t need to know."

"That usually means I really don’t want you to know."

"Very perceptive."

The investigator pulled out a simple agreement stating his fee and placed it on the table.

"Sign here."

Victoria took the pen, signed her name, then casually picked up a cucumber slice and ate it.

The investigator stared at her.

"What?"

"You just ate that."

"It’s a cucumber."

"It was on your face."

"And?"

He slowly took the signed paper.

"You rich people are weird."

Victoria picked up the other cucumber slice.

"Would you like this one?"

"No."

"Then get to work."

Two weeks later, the investigator was back beside the same pool.

This time, Victoria wasn’t wearing anything edible on her face.

"Well?"

"I found her."

Victoria immediately lowered the magazine she’d been pretending to read.

"Where?"

The investigator handed her a piece of paper.

There was no address on it.

Only a phone number.

Victoria frowned.

"What is this?"

"The number she gave me."

"I told you to bring her here."

"And I told you I’m not a bouncer."

Victoria gave him a look.

"She refused to come," he continued. "She said she’d speak to you over the phone. She also said that if I tried dragging her anywhere, she’d call the police."

Victoria stared at the number.

"Hmm. Feisty old woman."

"She wasn’t particularly happy to hear your name."

"That sounds like Maribel."

Victoria reached for the envelope containing the investigator’s remaining fee but kept one hand firmly around it.

First things first.

She dialed.

The phone rang several times before someone answered.

"Hello?"

Victoria recognized the voice immediately.

"Maribel."

Silence.

Then a sigh.

"Mrs. Sebastian."

"You’re surprisingly difficult to find."

"I’m not hiding."

"You left no forwarding address."

"Because I didn’t want to work for you anymore."

Victoria smiled faintly.

"Don’t worry. I don’t need your services."

"Then why did you send someone looking for me?"

There was no point wasting time.

"I need you to confirm something."

"What?"

"That you haven’t told anyone about our little misunderstanding."

The silence on the other end changed.

"What misunderstanding?"

Victoria’s smile disappeared.

"You know exactly what I’m talking about."

"I don’t."

"Domingo came to my house."

This time, Maribel didn’t answer immediately.

"He wants more money," Victoria continued. "Apparently, what he received years ago is no longer enough."

"I have nothing to do with Domingo."

"He’s your cousin."

"A cousin I haven’t seen in years."

"That doesn’t answer my question."

"What question?"

"Have you told anyone?"

"No."

"Anyone at all?"

"No."

Victoria’s fingers tightened around the phone.

"Elias, perhaps?"

Maribel answered much faster this time.

"No."

"You lived with him for twelve years."

"And?"

"People talk to the people they live with."

"I didn’t."

"Not even once?"

"No." Maribel’s voice sharpened. "I swear on my mother’s grave, I never told Elias anything about that. So leave him out of this."

Victoria became quiet.

She believed her.

Or at least, she wanted to.

Maribel had kept her mouth shut for years. If she had intended to expose Victoria, she’d had plenty of opportunities to do it long before now.

"Good."

"Is that all?"

"One more thing. If Domingo contacts you, tell him there won’t be any more money."

"I already told you. I don’t speak to him."

"Then let’s hope he understands without being told."

Maribel went silent.

Victoria could almost hear the suspicion forming on the other end.

"Mrs. Sebastian."

"Yes?"

"Whatever Domingo is doing, don’t involve me."

"You were already involved."

"A long time ago."

"Some things don’t become less dangerous simply because they’re old."

"And whose fault is that?"

Victoria’s expression hardened.

Maribel hung up.

For several seconds, Victoria stared at the phone.

Rude.

But useful.

Maribel hadn’t told Elias.

That mattered more than the woman’s manners.

Victoria finally handed the envelope to the investigator.

He checked the contents.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

"Good day, Mr. Investigator."

He started to leave.

"Oh."

The man stopped and looked back.

Victoria studied him for a moment.

She had found Maribel.

That particular loose end, at least for now, remained tied.

Domingo was another matter.

An investigator could locate people. He could follow them, photograph them, dig through addresses and records, and report what he found.

But Victoria was beginning to think the next person she hired would need a very different set of qualifications.

"Nothing," she eventually said. "You may go."

The investigator looked mildly relieved.

Probably wise.

Victoria waited until he disappeared into the house before leaning back against the lounge chair.

She should’ve felt reassured.

Instead, she felt tired.

All that effort.

All that planning.

All that money.

She’d spent years carefully nudging her way toward acceptance through gifts, visits, and favors.

For a while, Victoria had gotten exactly what she wanted.

Then the lovebirds separated anyway.

The benefactor was dead.

The wedding never happened.

And every ugly little thing Victoria had done to secure that future had ultimately accomplished nothing.

Nothing except leaving behind people who knew too much.

Victoria closed her eyes.

The worst part wasn’t the money.

It wasn’t even the possibility of discovering what she’d done.

It was Dominic.

Conrad had remarried. Helena and the children filled his home now, while Victoria had long since lost any claim she might’ve once had on that family.

Dominic was hers.

Her son.

Her only family.

And if Dominic ever discovered what she made him do?

Victoria didn’t know what he would do next.

She couldn’t let Dominic learn that.

Maribel had kept her promise.

For now, that was enough.

Domingo hadn’t.

That was the problem.

Victoria reached for her phone again, but this time she didn’t call the investigator.

She needed someone else.

Someone who wouldn’t ask quite so many questions.

Someone less interested in finding people and considerably better at making sure they understood when they were being given their last warning.

Victoria stared at Domingo’s number.

How far was she willing to go to tie up the loose ends she’d created all those years ago?

A disturbing answer came to mind far too easily.

Whatever it took.