Chapter 7
The Night the Truth Went Public
The next morning, I received a message from Diane Whitmore.
No greeting.
No apology.
Just an address and a demand.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH ABOUT ROSALIND.
I stared at the screen.
My first instinct was to delete it.
But then another message appeared.
I KNOW WHERE CHARLES IS HIDING.
I immediately called Detective Grant.
She told me not to meet Diane.
I agreed.
But I also knew Diane would disappear again if she sensed the police approaching.
So we arranged something different.
A controlled meeting.
An empty conference room inside a hotel.
Detectives stationed nearby.
A recording device concealed in my jacket, with investigators handling the recording.
At six that evening, Diane walked into the room.
She wore a simple black dress.
Without her jewelry and dramatic makeup, she looked smaller.
Older.
But her eyes were still cold.
"You're making a terrible mistake," she said.
I remained seated.
"Sit down, Diane."
She stared at me.
"You sound like your father."
My hands tightened.
"You knew Gabriel."
"Of course."
"Then you knew he was imprisoned for twenty-three years."
She looked away.
"Charles made those decisions."
I leaned forward.
"And you helped him."
Her jaw tightened.
"You don't understand what it was like living with that man."
"Then explain."
Diane sat.
For the first time, her expression faltered.
"Charles controlled everything."
"The pageant?"
"The foundation. Our finances. My career."
She swallowed.
"He threatened to ruin me if I refused his demands."
I watched her carefully.
"Did he threaten you when you changed Rosalind's scores?"
Diane closed her eyes.
"Yes."
"And Evelyn's?"
She didn't answer.
"Diane."
Her shoulders sagged.
"I authorized the altered result."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"You stole Evelyn's crown."
"Charles ordered it."
"Why?"
"Because Evelyn had begun asking questions about her mother's competition."
I stared.
"That was enough?"
Diane's voice rose.
"Charles believed she had inherited Rosalind's evidence!"
I thought of the silver butterfly.
The financial files.
The videos.
"And Nia?"
Diane began crying.
"Charles wanted the crown to go to someone connected to Raymond."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"He wanted to send a message."
"To whom?"
"To anyone still looking into the past."
I felt disgust rise in my throat.
"You used two innocent women to settle a twenty-three-year-old grudge."
Diane covered her face.
"I know."
I leaned back.
"Tell me where Charles is."
She hesitated.
Then whispered, "The old Whitmore estate near Lake Lanier."
I held my breath.
"Is he alone?"
"I don't know."
"Does he have the missing financial records?"
"He has copies."
I studied her face.
"And what happened to Rosalind?"
Diane began shaking.
"Charles sent Victor to her house."
My stomach turned.
"To kill her?"
"He told me he only wanted the documents."
"What happened?"
Diane whispered, "Victor started the fire."
I felt sick.
"Did Rosalind escape?"
Diane looked up.
Tears filled her eyes.
"No."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked, "And you kept working for him?"
Diane covered her face.
"I was afraid."
I stared at her.
"Rosalind was afraid too."
She flinched.
"But she still chose to protect other women."
Diane broke down.
I stood.
"There's something else I need."
She looked up.
"The names of every woman Charles targeted."
Her face changed.
"Why?"
"Because their families deserve answers."
Diane hesitated.
Then opened her purse and removed a small notebook.
She placed it on the table.
"These are the women I remember."
I took it.
Seven names.
Seven families.
Seven lives.
And beside the last name was a date from only three months earlier.
I stared.
"He's still doing this?"
Diane nodded.
"He never really stopped."
I stepped toward the door.
Diane grabbed my arm.
"Maya, please."
I turned.
"What?"
"If I testify, will you tell Evelyn I'm sorry?"
I looked at her for a long moment.
"That's something you'll have to tell her yourself."
I opened the door.
Detective Grant entered with two officers.
Diane looked at them.
Then lowered her head.
She was arrested on charges connected to the fraud and evidence tampering investigation, with more charges under review.
As the officers led her away, she stopped.
"One more thing."
I turned.
"Charles knows about the butterfly."
My blood went cold.
"He knows you opened it."
I stared at her.
"How?"
Diane whispered, "Because someone close to your family told him."
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Someone close to us?
I thought of Margaret.
My mother.
Patricia.
Nia.
Evelyn.
I refused to believe any of them had betrayed us.
But Diane's words followed me all the way home.
That night, I opened Rosalind's files again.
I examined every document.
Every recording.
Every name.
Then I noticed something strange.
One folder contained a photograph of a young woman holding a baby.
I enlarged it.
The woman was Rosalind.
The baby wore a pink blanket.
And standing beside them was a nurse.
A woman I recognized immediately.
My mother.
Denise Carter.
I stared at the picture.
Then at the date.
April 2004.
The month Nia had supposedly been adopted.
My mother had been there.
She hadn't just known about the missing baby.
May you like
She had witnessed what happened.
And she had never told us.
