The Woman in Josephine’s Uniform

Chapter 05 - The Woman in Josephine’s Uniform

By midafternoon, Wyatt was breathing on his own.

Josephine cried when he opened his eyes.

Not loudly. One tear slipped down her cheek, then another, while Wyatt squinted at her and whispered, “You look terrible.”

She laughed for the first time in twelve hours.

“You almost died and you’re criticizing my face?”

“Your hair too.”

“Go back to sleep.”

He did, satisfied.

Raphael watched from the hall and felt something inside him loosen.

Then Gideon arrived.

He did not enter Wyatt’s room. He waited near the elevators until Raphael joined him.

“The archive lock wasn’t forced.”

Raphael’s expression changed.

“Key?”

“Electronic master override.”

“Who has access?”

“You. Me. Mrs. Roz. Security chief.”

“And?”

Gideon hesitated.

“Your family attorney.”

Raphael looked up.

“Conrad Vale?”

“He has emergency access because of estate documents.”

Conrad Vale had been at Raphael’s father’s side for two decades. He had handled funerals, trusts, land deals, lawsuits, and the long cleanup after Vittorio Orsini died.

He also attended Christmas dinner.

“That means nothing yet,” Gideon said.

“It means four people can open that room.”

“Five.”

Raphael frowned.

Gideon held out a plastic evidence bag.

Inside was a brass staff pin.

JOSEPHINE HARTLEY.

Raphael stared.

“Found beneath the archive desk.”

“That is not hers.”

“How do you know?”

“Because hers is still crooked on her apron.”

Gideon glanced through the ICU window.

Josephine still wore it.

For some reason, that small fact made the entire break-in feel intimate.

Not random.

Someone had studied her closely enough to reproduce the pin.

Gideon continued. “The camera footage is doctored.”

“How?”

“Face replacement. Not perfect, but good enough on low-resolution security video.”

Raphael’s mouth tightened.

“So someone wants me to believe Josephine broke into the archive.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Gideon’s gaze settled on Wyatt’s room.

“Maybe because they know you won’t.”

Raphael looked at him.

“Won’t what?”

“Turn on her.”

For twenty-two years, Gideon had rarely sounded uncertain.

Today he did.

Raphael folded his arms.

“What was taken?”

“One folder. Dileia.”

The name hit like a physical blow.

There had been no reason for anyone outside the family to know that Raphael would begin asking questions about Dileia that morning.

Unless they already knew why.

Raphael entered Wyatt’s room ten minutes later.

Josephine sat by the bed, reading the same page of a magazine over and over.

He closed the door.

“We have a problem.”

She looked up.

He showed her the still image.

Josephine stared at it.

Then at him.

“That’s me.”

“No.”

“It looks like me.”

“It was taken while you were sitting beside me.”

Her face changed.

“Someone dressed like me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

She looked toward Wyatt.

Fear arrived in her eyes before she spoke.

“Do they know about him?”

Raphael wished he could lie.

“Possibly.”

Josephine stood.

“Then we leave.”

“Leave?”

“Wyatt. Me. Aunt Ellie.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere else.”

“They found my house while you were in a hospital two states away. ‘Somewhere else’ is not a plan.”

She stiffened.

“Neither is staying near the family that kept this secret for eleven years.”

Raphael absorbed the sentence.

It was fair.

It still hurt.

Josephine immediately looked guilty for saying it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You did.”

She closed her mouth.

Raphael stepped closer, not enough to crowd her.

“You are right not to trust my family.”

Josephine looked at him.

“But whoever broke into that archive wanted me to blame you.”

He lowered his voice.

“That makes me very interested in keeping you safe.”

She studied his face.

“You say things like threats even when you’re trying to be kind.”

Raphael almost smiled.

“It’s a bad habit.”

“Among others?”

“Several.”

She should not have laughed.

She did.

The sound startled them both.

That evening, Eleanor went home to collect clothing.

Raphael insisted Gideon send a car.

Josephine objected.

Eleanor did not.

“I’ve made enough bad decisions for one lifetime,” she said. “I’ll take the car.”

Two hours later, she called.

Her voice shook.

“Jo.”

Josephine stood immediately.

“What happened?”

“Someone was in the house.”

Raphael took the phone.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Gideon’s man came in with me. Whoever it was left before we arrived.”

“What did they take?”

Eleanor was silent.

Raphael knew the answer before she gave it.

“Claire’s old things.”

Josephine’s mother had been dead four years.

“What things?”

“The cedar box from my bedroom closet.”

Josephine’s face drained.

“What was in it?”

Eleanor swallowed hard enough that they heard it through the phone.

“Letters. Sam’s watch. Wyatt’s first baby blanket.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.”

She began to cry.

“A photograph I never told you about.”

Josephine took the phone back.

“What photograph?”

Eleanor breathed in.

“Dileia holding Wyatt the day he was born.”

Josephine closed her eyes.

Raphael turned away.

Then Eleanor whispered something else.

“There was another man in the picture.”

Raphael stopped.

Josephine’s voice dropped.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Claire cut his face out years ago.”

A pause.

“But she wrote his initials on the back.”

“What initials?”

Eleanor answered.

“C.V.”

Raphael looked at Gideon.

Conrad Vale.

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And suddenly the family lawyer’s emergency access to the archive did not look administrative anymore.

**Because the man who had spent eleven years protecting the Orsini family’s secrets might have been the secret Dileia died to keep.**