Chapter 4 - The Photograph in the Kitchen
“Caleb?”
Hazel moved toward the voice.
Mateo caught her wrist.
“Stay behind me.”
“You heard him.”
“I heard something.”
“Hazel.”
Caleb’s voice again.
Closer.
She froze.
Mateo switched on his phone flashlight.
The beam cut across pipes and concrete.
No Caleb.
Then Hazel noticed a speaker mounted near the ceiling.
“A recording.”
Mateo nodded.
Someone had wanted her frightened.
Wanted her emotional.
Wanted her here.
The phone buzzed.
A video appeared.
Caleb sat in a chair beneath a bare light.
Alive.
He looked directly at the camera.
“Hazel, if you’re watching this, I’m sorry.”
She covered her mouth.
“I ruined everything. But not the way Mateo thinks.”
Caleb leaned forward.
“Five years ago, I stole money. That part was me. I was desperate. But the Moretti messages weren’t.”
Mateo’s face hardened.
Caleb continued.
“Victor found out what I’d done. He told me he could make it disappear if I gave him access to the estate systems.”
Hazel looked at Mateo.
“Victor.”
The video continued.
“I thought he wanted to steal from Mateo. I didn’t know he was feeding information to Moretti. When I tried to back out, Victor used my credentials.”
Caleb’s eyes filled with tears.
“Hazel, I never told them anything about you.”
The screen went black.
Then words appeared.
FIND THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE KITCHEN.
Mateo and Hazel returned to Brooks & Thyme before dawn.
The restaurant had been searched.
Nothing obvious was missing.
Hazel went directly to the kitchen.
“What photograph?”
Mateo studied the walls.
Family pictures.
Noah at one.
Noah at two.
Hazel with her staff.
Caleb as a teenager.
Then Mateo stopped at an old photograph of Hazel and Caleb with their mother.
“Was this always here?”
“Yes.”
He removed the frame.
A second photograph was hidden behind it.
Hazel had never seen it.
It showed Victor Hale shaking hands with Salvatore Moretti.
The timestamp was six years old.
Before Caleb’s betrayal.
Before Hazel and Mateo became lovers.
Before everything.
Hazel whispered, “Victor was already working with them.”
Mateo turned the photograph over.
A handwritten address appeared.
Beside it were initials.
C.B.
Hazel recognized the handwriting.
“Caleb wrote this.”
The address led to an abandoned church outside Chicago.
Mateo wanted Hazel and Noah protected elsewhere.
Hazel refused to leave the city without answers.
For the first time, Mateo did not order her.
He asked.
“Stay with Dante.”
Hazel studied him.
“Why should I trust Dante?”
“Because when Victor told me you had probably helped Caleb, Dante was the only man who told me I was being an idiot.”
That surprised her.
Mateo almost smiled.
“He used stronger language.”
Hazel reluctantly agreed.
Noah was moved to a secure apartment with Hazel and Dante.
Mateo went to the church.
Hours passed.
Hazel paced.
Noah built a fortress from couch cushions.
“Is Dad coming back?”
The word hit her.
Dad.
“He’s trying.”
“Do you love him?”
Hazel nearly dropped her coffee.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because you look at him like Mia looks at the pizza delivery guy.”
Hazel stared.
Then laughed for the first time in twenty-four hours.
“Noah.”
“What?”
“You are five.”
“I’m almost six.”
“You turned five yesterday.”
“Exactly.”
Her laughter faded when someone knocked.
Dante drew his weapon.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
Mateo’s signal.
Dante opened the door.
Mateo entered.
Blood marked his collar.
Hazel stood.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
She hated the relief she felt.
“What did you find?”
Mateo looked at Noah.
“Not here.”
Noah crossed his arms.
“You always say that.”
Mateo blinked.
“What?”
“Adults say ‘not here’ when they mean something interesting.”
Dante coughed to hide a laugh.
Hazel sent Noah to brush his teeth.
Then Mateo placed a folder on the table.
Inside were financial records.
Moretti payments.
Victor’s shell companies.
And payments to someone identified only as C.B.
“Caleb Brooks?” Hazel asked.
“That’s what Victor wanted it to look like.”
“Then who?”
“We don’t know.”
Mateo turned a page.
Hazel saw dates.
One stopped her.
The day Noah was born.
A payment of fifty thousand dollars.
Another on Noah’s first birthday.
Another on his second.
Every year.
“Someone was being paid to watch us.”
“Yes.”
Hazel felt sick.
“Who?”
Mateo opened his mouth.
A crash came from the bedroom.
They ran.
Noah stood beside an open window.
On the floor lay a brick wrapped in paper.
Mateo picked it up.
Hazel unfolded the note.
One sentence.
HE HAS HIS FATHER’S EYES.
Then Noah pointed toward the building across the street.
A silhouette stood behind a window.
Watching them.
Mateo reached for his phone.
The silhouette lifted one hand.
And removed a hood.
May you like
Hazel stopped breathing.
“Caleb.”
