Page 47 of Shrouded Past

“But not in time to stop whatever’s about to happen.”

He looked deep into her eyes. “You went through a traumatic experience, Piper. Both emotionally and physically. If you had to watch your mother die, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”

“I wish I could remember anything about her other than a vague moment when I was younger.”

His body language grew taunt. “You remember it happened when you were a child? That’s something you never mentioned before.”

She widened her eyes. He was right. “I didn’t.” It was only a tiny observation and yet . . .

“Does anything about New York sound familiar to you?”

She watched the coffee pour through, and something from the past broke free. “The house.” “The one where you and your mother were baking?”

She glanced up and nodded. “Yes. That wasn’t our home.” Piper closed her eyes tight trying to hold onto the memory. In her mind’s eye she went back to that time. “There were others there.” She furrowed her brow. “I think it was a family gathering.” She heard children laughing. “They’re playing outside. There’s a beach.” Her eyes snapped open.

Bryce snapped his fingers, drawing JT’s attention. He motioned JT over.

“Everything okay?” JT asked.

Piper explained what she’d remembered.

“The beach could be Brighton Beach.” JT turned back to the team. “Declan, do any of the Russian mobsters live in Brighton Beach?”

“Got one. Maksimilian Chaykovsky. Has a mansion, or more like a compound on the beach. Chaykovsky is rumored to have his hands in drug smuggling along with other crimes all over the country.”

“What about Wyoming?” Piper asked.

“Um . . .” Declan dug deeper. “Not that I see. The furthest west he’s supposedly working is Nevada. Mostly in Las Vegas.”

“How old is Chaykovsky?” Bryce asked and looked over Declan’s shoulder. The photo showed an elderly man who appeared to be in his seventies at least.

“Um . . . eighty-one.”

Piper’s hopes evaporated. “That man can’t be my father.” She stared at the elderly man. Had she met him before?

“Do you recognize him?” Bryce watched her reaction.

She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t.”

Bryce squeezed her arm. “If the last time you saw him was when you were a child then it stands to reason you wouldn’t recognize the person he is today. Does he have any children? Specifically, sons.”

Declan typed in a command. “Three sons and four daughters. Let me see if I can get a current photo of the family.” More keystrokes and then. “Ah ha. Here we go.” A photo of the family came up. “Taken a couple of years back. This is the best I can do.” He looked up at Piper expectantly.

She carefully studied each of the male members of the family. Even the ones who were married toChaykovsky’s daughters. None of them seemed familiar. Her shoulders sagged. “I don’t know them.”

The energy of the room deflated.

“Maybe we’re looking at someone in the organization and not a member of the family,” Bryce said.

“Possibly.” JT frowned at the screen. “What about other members of the organization? Do we have any photos of them?”

“I’ll look, but I’m going to say they wouldn’t want their pictures out there.”

So close only to have another dead end. It was hard not to get discouraged.

“We’ll find him.” Bryce stepped to her side.

She loved him for his encouragement . . . loved him. Where had that come from?

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