Chapter 4 - The Man Who Walked Through the Church Doors
Alessandro walked down the aisle like a man entering a room he still owned.
No rush.
No shouting.
No weapon in his hand.
Just the white lily.
And the recorder.
I couldn't move.
Even though I had already seen him alive, seeing him there changed everything.
At the rectory, Alessandro had been my secret.
In the church, he became the dead man returning in front of two hundred witnesses.
Guests stood.
Someone screamed.
One elderly woman crossed herself.
Vittorio stepped backward.
His face had gone white.
Salvatore didn't move at all.
That frightened me most.
Alessandro stopped ten feet from the altar.
His eyes found mine.
Everything else disappeared.
Two years.
The grave.
The forced ring.
The threats.
The lies.
All of it existed inside one look.
Then he glanced at my left hand.
Vittorio's ring.
His jaw tightened.
"Elena."
I swallowed.
"Alessandro."
Vittorio moved between us.
"You're dead."
Alessandro looked at him.
"I've heard."
"You can't be here."
"And yet."
Salvatore finally stepped into the aisle.
His voice remained controlled.
"This ceremony is private."
Alessandro glanced around.
"Two hundred people, three photographers, and a bishop's assistant."
He looked back at Salvatore.
"Very private."
Murmurs spread.
Salvatore's eyes narrowed.
"What do you want?"
Alessandro raised the recorder.
"The truth."
Vittorio laughed once.
Too loudly.
"You're insane."
"No."
Alessandro's gaze shifted toward him.
"I was careless."
Then he pressed PLAY.
Static filled the church.
A younger version of Alessandro's voice.
Then Carlo.
Then Salvatore.
MAKE SURE ROSSI'S GIRL BELIEVES HE'S DEAD.
Gasps.
My mother looked at me.
"What is this?"
I couldn't answer.
The recording continued.
Vittorio's voice came next.
IF SHE SEES THE BODY?
Salvatore:
THERE WON'T BE ENOUGH LEFT.
The guests erupted.
Vittorio lunged toward Alessandro.
Two men stepped from the side aisles and blocked him.
Duca men.
Alive.
Hidden among the guests.
Salvatore shouted, "Turn that off!"
Alessandro stopped the recording.
"Why?"
"It's fabricated."
"Good."
Alessandro reached inside his coat.
He removed a small evidence bag.
Inside was a memory card.
"Then you won't mind if federal investigators compare it to the original device."
Salvatore's face changed.
Federal.
That word mattered.
Alessandro looked toward the rear pews.
Three people stood.
Not wedding guests.
Dark suits.
Badges.
FBI.
The church exploded with noise.
Vittorio turned toward his father.
"You said this was handled."
Salvatore hissed, "Be quiet."
Too late.
One agent had heard.
Alessandro's gaze sharpened.
"Interesting choice of words."
Vittorio realized his mistake.
Then I saw Carlo moving.
He stepped away from Salvatore.
Slowly.
Salvatore noticed.
"Where are you going?"
Carlo stopped.
"For two years I've waited for this."
Vittorio stared.
"You knew?"
Carlo looked at Alessandro.
"I knew he survived."
My breath caught.
Salvatore's face became murderous.
"You."
Carlo nodded.
"I pulled him from the warehouse."
Vittorio cursed.
Salvatore reached inside his jacket.
Everything happened at once.
Carlo moved.
Agents shouted.
Guests ducked.
Alessandro crossed the distance between us and pulled me behind the altar.
A gun hit the marble floor before Salvatore could fire.
Agents restrained him.
No shots.
No blood.
Just chaos.
My mother screamed my name.
"I'm okay!"
Alessandro shielded me with his body until Salvatore was handcuffed.
Then he turned.
His hands touched my shoulders.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
His eyes searched my face anyway.
"Alessandro."
"I'm here."
Vittorio shouted from across the sanctuary.
"This isn't over!"
An agent held him.
Alessandro looked toward him.
"It is for you."
Vittorio laughed.
"You think that recording proves murder?"
"No."
Silence settled slowly.
Alessandro held up the recorder.
"It proves conspiracy."
He turned toward Salvatore.
"But the erased six minutes prove murder."
Salvatore stared at him.
Alessandro continued.
"And someone in this church has the original."
I looked at him.
"You said it was erased."
"From my copy."
"Then who has it?"
Alessandro's eyes moved through the room.
He was searching.
The guests.
Family.
Priests.
Security.
Then his attention stopped on a man in the third row.
Father Tomas.
The priest who had stood beside me at Alessandro's burial.
My stomach dropped.
Father Tomas looked terrified.
Alessandro said, "You kept it."
The old priest shook his head.
"I had no choice."
Salvatore suddenly fought against the agents.
"Don't listen to him."
Father Tomas stood.
His hands trembled.
"Two years ago, a man came to confession."
Salvatore shouted, "Stop."
The priest continued.
"He gave me a device."
Alessandro stepped forward.
"Where is it?"
Father Tomas looked toward the altar.
"Hidden."
"Where?"
The old priest's eyes filled with tears.
"Inside the coffin."
Every sound in the church died.
My knees weakened.
"The coffin?"
Father Tomas nodded.
"Not Alessandro's coffin."
He looked directly at me.
"The man's coffin."
I felt sick.
"Who was buried under Alessandro's name?"
The priest opened his mouth.
Then one of the FBI agents suddenly shouted from the rear of the church.
"Nobody move!"
A side door was open.
One of the Moretti security guards had disappeared.
And Father Tomas whispered the name of the dead man for the first time.
May you like
"Marco Rossi."
My brother's name.
