Chapter 7: The Woman in the Casket
Rachel called at noon.
"The remains have been re-examined by an independent forensic odontologist.
There are discrepancies in the dental comparison."
Lorenzo was in the car.
Mason driving.
He kept his voice level.
"How significant?"
"Significant enough to reopen identification.
The original comparison used digital records supplied by Dr.
Rusk.
The second odontologist found inconsistencies between those records and the physical evidence."
"Meaning the records were altered."
"Meaning the records may have been altered.
I'm not drawing conclusions yet."
"Who is she, Rachel?"
A pause.
"We're running the remaining tissue against missing persons databases.
I expect an answer within the day."
"Her family—"
"I know.
The moment we have a confirmed identity, family notification is the first step.
Before press.
Before anything."
Lorenzo looked out the window.
The city moved past.
Ordinary.
People walking.
A woman pushing a stroller.
A man arguing on his phone.
Somewhere in this city, a family had spent two months not knowing where someone they loved had gone.
"Rachel.
The DNA from the bl00d sample at the warehouse."
"Female.
We're processing a comparison against Isabella's prior medical records.
I have a court order for the hospital files."
"How long?"
"Twenty-four to forty-eight hours for a strong result."
"And if it matches."
"Then we have confirmation that Isabella was alive at least as recently as two days ago.
That changes the legal classification of everything."
Lorenzo ended the call.
Mason glanced in the rearview mirror.
"You all right?"
"No."
"Fair enough."
They drove in silence for a moment.
"The woman in the casket," Lorenzo said.
"I stood at her funeral.
Two hundred people.
I gave a eulogy."
Mason said nothing.
"Her family was somewhere in this city thinking she was missing.
And I was burying her under my wife's name."
"You didn't know."
"That doesn't change what happened to her."
Mason pulled to a stop at a light.
"What do you want to do?"
"Find out who she is.
And when we know—" Lorenzo looked at his hands.
"Whatever her family needs.
Whatever makes it right.
Not to ease my conscience.
Because she deserves it."
The answer came at 4:17 p.m.
Rachel called again.
"Claire Donnelly.
Thirty-four.
Part-time event coordinator from Yonkers.
Reported missing the same week Isabella disappeared."
Lorenzo wrote the name on the back of a receipt from his coat pocket.
The only paper he had.
"Any connection to Isabella?"
"We're looking.
Nothing obvious yet.
But—" Rachel paused.
"She did occasional bookkeeping work for vendors.
Some of them connected to North Pier Logistics."
The pen stopped moving.
"She found the invoices," Lorenzo said.
"Possibly."
"Isabella was going to meet someone.
Before the crash.
Someone who had copies of the vendor files."
"Yes."
"Claire Donnelly."
"It fits.
We're pulling her phone records and financial activity now."
Lorenzo looked at the name on the receipt.
Claire Donnelly.
She had found something she wasn't supposed to find.
She had decided to tell someone who might be able to do something about it.
And that decision had put her in a car on a rain-slicked road north of Manhattan, in the driver's seat, while Isabella was somewhere else entirely.
"Her sister," Lorenzo said.
"Does she have a sister?"
"Yes.
We notified her an hour ago."
"Is she—"
"She's in shock.
She's been looking for Claire for two months."
Lorenzo folded the receipt and put it in his inside pocket, against his chest.
"I want to pay for her funeral," he said.
"Privately.
No press.
No announcement.
If her sister is willing."
Rachel was quiet for a moment.
"I'll pass that along."
"And Rachel — I need you to find Anthony Bell."
"The contractor?"
"He was two blocks from Moretti Global this morning.
He's been driving the surveillance vehicle outside my estate.
He's connected to Vincent and he's connected to wherever Isabella has been kept." Lorenzo's voice stayed even.
"He's the thread.
Pull him and everything unravels."
"I'm already looking."
"Look faster."
He ended the call and sat with the folded receipt in his hand.
Outside, the city went on being ordinary.
Claire Donnelly had tried to do the right thing.
May you like
That had to count for something.
He was going to make sure it did.
