She Threw Poisoned Hot Coffee at The Millionaire

CHAPTER 3 - THE RECIPE BOX

I should have gotten out of that car.

Instead, twenty minutes later I was unlocking my apartment door with Dom Bozack standing behind me and one of his men waiting in the hall.

Not Marek.

Marek had disappeared.

I lived above a laundromat in a building that always smelled faintly of soap and old pipes. I felt suddenly ashamed of the narrow kitchen, the scratched table, the faded curtains my mother had hemmed by hand.

Vivian saw everything.

So did Dom.

Neither said a word.

I went straight to the top shelf over the refrigerator and pulled down the old wooden recipe box. The corners were worn smooth. My mother had kept index cards inside it, stained with oil and cinnamon and time. Soup. Rice pudding. Roast chicken. Cheap meals stretched with love.

"She told me to keep this," I said. "I thought it was because of the recipes."

"It may still be," Vivian said softly.

My hands trembled as I flipped through the cards.

Halfway down, I found an envelope taped beneath a card for apple cake.

My name was written on the front in my mother's careful block letters.

For Nora. Only if someone comes asking about the lake.

I sat down because my knees gave out.

"Read it," Dom said.

I shot him a look. "Don't tell me what to do in my own kitchen."

For the first time, I thought I saw the faintest sign of respect in his face.

I opened the letter.

Nora, if this is being read, then the past has found you. I did not steal from the Bozacks, though someone said I did. I took only what belonged to my child: proof of her father.

The room tilted.

Vivian pressed a hand to her mouth.

I kept reading.

If Dominic ever stands before you, tell him I left the Saint Christopher medal where his father proposed to me. He will know the place. He must know the truth about the fire.

I lowered the letter slowly.

Dom had gone still.

"Dominic?" I whispered.

He stared at me. "My full name is Dominic."

Vivian looked between us like she was seeing two ghosts.

Then she said the impossible thing.

"Elena was carrying my husband's child when she vanished."

"That means you may not have saved a stranger tonight, Nora. You may have saved your brother."