Chapter 4 - The Voice From the Past
Dominic raised one hand.
Nobody moved.
The voice came again from above.
"Dominic."
Beatrice stared at him.
She had heard that voice before.
Not clearly enough to place it immediately, but enough to make something cold move through her chest.
Marco reached beneath his jacket.
Luca positioned himself beside the basement stairs.
Dominic shook his head.
"Nobody fires unless I say so."
The footsteps stopped directly outside the basement door.
Then came three knocks.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Marco whispered, "Boss, we don't know who's up there."
Dominic looked toward the recorder.
The audio file had stopped.
But the third man's sentence still seemed to hang in the basement.
You should have stayed a driver, Samuel.
Beatrice closed the metal case.
Dominic pointed toward the shadows behind the shelves.
"Take that and stay back."
"No."
"Beatrice."
"I'm done hiding."
His eyes hardened.
"This isn't about pride."
"Neither is my answer."
Before Dominic could argue, the basement door opened.
Luca raised his weapon.
A man appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Don't shoot."
Marco nearly dropped his gun.
"Dad?"
Frank DeLuca stood beneath the hallway light.
Blood ran from his forehead.
His shirt was torn.
One sleeve hung loose at the shoulder.
But he was alive.
Marco rushed upstairs.
"Jesus, Dad."
Frank grabbed the railing.
"I'm fine."
"You disappeared."
"I had to."
"Who attacked you?"
Frank looked past his son.
His eyes found Beatrice.
Everything in his expression changed.
For several seconds, the old man simply stared.
Beatrice stepped forward.
"Mr. DeLuca."
Frank descended slowly.
When he reached the basement floor, his eyes dropped toward the metal case.
"You opened it."
Beatrice held up the brass key.
"My father gave me this."
"I know."
"You knew where it led?"
"Yes."
Anger replaced her surprise.
"You've known for twelve years?"
Frank nodded.
"And you said nothing?"
"I made a promise."
"My father disappeared."
"I know."
"My mother died without knowing what happened to him."
Pain crossed Frank's face.
"I know that too."
"Then start talking."
Marco stepped between them slightly.
"Dad, who attacked you?"
Frank looked toward Dominic.
"The same people who attacked the car tonight."
Dominic's expression tightened.
"Names."
"I don't have them."
"You recognized the voice on Samuel's recording."
Frank glanced at the recorder.
"How much did you hear?"
"Enough."
Frank closed his eyes.
Dominic stepped closer.
"Who betrayed my father?"
Frank remained silent.
Dominic's voice dropped.
"Don't make me ask again."
"Your father made me promise."
"My father is dead."
"That's exactly why the promise matters."
Dominic slammed his palm against the workbench.
Beatrice flinched.
Marco didn't.
He had probably seen Dominic angry many times.
But even Marco watched him carefully now.
"My father spent the last years of his life trusting nobody," Dominic said. "Samuel disappeared. Someone attacked Beatrice's apartment. Someone tried to kill me. Whatever promise you made died when bullets started flying tonight."
Frank looked older suddenly.
"Some promises don't die."
Beatrice stepped forward.
"This one does."
Frank looked at her.
She didn't raise her voice.
That made the words stronger.
"You said you promised my father you'd watch me."
"Yes."
"Did you?"
"Every year."
"From a distance?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Samuel believed the moment anyone connected you to him, you'd become a target."
"Tonight someone connected me."
"I know."
"Then your promise failed."
Frank's face tightened.
Beatrice continued.
"So give me something useful instead."
Silence.
Finally, Frank walked toward the recorder.
He picked it up.
"Samuel discovered someone was selling Rossi transportation routes."
Dominic nodded.
"We heard that."
"It was bigger than routes."
"How much bigger?"
"Police contacts. Judges. Warehouses. Financial accounts. Names of people under protection."
Marco stared at his father.
"You knew all this?"
"I helped Samuel investigate it."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"So did my father."
"Yes."
"Who was selling the information?"
Frank looked at Dominic.
"Your uncle."
Nobody moved.
Dominic's expression emptied.
"Which uncle?"
"Vittorio."
Marco cursed quietly.
Beatrice knew the name.
Everyone did.
Vittorio Rossi had been Antonio Rossi's younger brother.
He had helped build the family organization.
After Antonio's death, Vittorio had retired from daily operations.
He now lived outside the city and appeared only at weddings, funerals, and major family events.
Dominic had trusted him his entire life.
"No," Dominic said.
Frank nodded once.
"Yes."
"You expect me to believe Uncle Vittorio betrayed my father?"
"I expect you to listen."
"He's family."
"So was the man selling your father's secrets."
Dominic stared at him.
"What proof?"
"The ledger."
"Where is it?"
Frank looked toward Beatrice.
"Samuel hid it."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Beatrice held up the key.
"This opened the compartment."
"The ledger wasn't kept here."
"Then what does?"
Frank pointed toward the metal case.
"Directions."
Beatrice searched through the papers.
Most were coded records.
Dates.
Addresses.
Initials.
Vehicle numbers.
Then she found a small city map folded beneath the cassette tapes.
Several locations had been circled.
The warehouse.
The river.
The old Rossi estate.
And one place Beatrice recognized instantly.
Her childhood home.
She looked at Frank.
"Why is my house marked?"
"Because Samuel hid something there."
"What?"
"He never told me."
"Convenient."
"He didn't trust anyone with everything."
"Not even you?"
"Especially not me."
Marco frowned.
"Why?"
Frank looked at his son.
"Because Samuel understood that good men can be forced to betray people they love."
The sentence carried weight.
Marco heard it too.
"What did they force you to do?"
Frank didn't answer.
Marco stepped closer.
"Dad."
"Not now."
"You just said—"
"Not now."
Dominic took the map.
"Beatrice's childhood house. Who owns it?"
Beatrice answered.
"Nobody."
"What?"
"It has been empty since my mother died."
"You kept it?"
"I couldn't sell it."
Dominic folded the map.
"We go there."
Frank immediately said, "No."
Dominic turned.
"That's exactly what they expect."
"Then they'll be disappointed when we arrive prepared."
"You don't understand Vittorio."
"I've known him my entire life."
"That's why you don't understand him."
Dominic stared at Frank.
"What does that mean?"
Frank hesitated.
"Vittorio didn't just sell information. He built relationships with people who wanted Antonio gone."
"My father died of a heart attack."
Frank's silence answered first.
Dominic's face changed.
"No."
"I never saw proof."
"You just implied—"
"I said I never saw proof."
"But you suspected."
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Since the night Samuel disappeared."
Dominic turned away.
For the first time since Beatrice had known him, the mafia king looked shaken.
Not angry.
Not dangerous.
Wounded.
His father had been the center of everything he believed about loyalty.
Now the past was being dismantled piece by piece.
Beatrice understood that feeling.
She had lived inside it for twelve years.
She approached him.
"We don't know everything yet."
Dominic looked at her.
It was strange.
Hours earlier, she had been his driver.
Now she was the only person in the room who seemed to understand exactly what he was feeling.
"We find the ledger," she said.
"And then?"
"We stop guessing."
Dominic nodded.
Marco helped Frank upstairs.
Luca remained near the entrance.
As Beatrice passed him, he said quietly, "Bea."
She stopped.
He immediately looked embarrassed.
"Sorry. Beatrice."
"What?"
"About the jokes."
"We already covered that."
"Not really."
She waited.
Luca looked toward Dominic.
"We treated you like you didn't belong."
Beatrice gave him a tired smile.
"You weren't exactly subtle."
"I know."
"And?"
"And I was wrong."
Beatrice nodded.
"Good."
"That's it?"
"What do you want, a ceremony?"
Luca almost laughed.
"No."
"Then we're good."
They left the house.
Frank refused to stay behind.
Marco protested.
Frank ignored him.
They took two vehicles.
This time Beatrice drove Dominic again.
Nobody questioned it.
The city was beginning to quiet.
The rain had weakened to a steady drizzle.
Dominic sat beside her.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then he said, "Why did you keep working for me?"
She knew what he meant.
"If you suspected my family."
"I suspected everyone."
"That's comforting."
"You included."
"Even more comforting."
Beatrice glanced at him.
He was smiling faintly.
It was the first time she had seen him smile tonight.
"You never treated me badly," she said.
Dominic's smile disappeared.
"I let them treat you badly."
"That's different."
"Not different enough."
She looked back toward the road.
"You noticed?"
"More than you think."
"Then why didn't you stop them?"
Dominic considered the question.
"Because I was arrogant."
Beatrice raised an eyebrow.
"That sounded painful."
"It was."
She smiled.
Dominic watched her.
For a moment, the violence and secrets disappeared.
He noticed the damp curl resting against her cheek.
The tiny cut near her jaw.
The determination in her eyes.
He had spent three years getting into cars she drove without ever truly seeing the woman behind the wheel.
Now he couldn't seem to look away.
Beatrice noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"I'm thinking."
"Do that facing forward."
Dominic actually laughed.
From the back seat, Luca looked shocked.
Beatrice tried not to smile.
Then Dominic became serious.
"When this is finished, Marco and Luca will never speak to you like that again."
"I can defend myself."
"I know."
"Then don't turn me into some helpless woman who needs the mafia king protecting her."
His eyes held hers.
"That's not what I'm doing."
"What are you doing?"
Dominic took a moment.
"Trying to make sure everyone understands your place."
Beatrice frowned.
"My place?"
"Beside me."
Her hands tightened slightly around the wheel.
"Careful, Rossi."
"Why?"
"That almost sounded romantic."
"Maybe you heard it correctly."
Beatrice looked at him.
Dominic didn't smile.
That somehow made it worse.
Or better.
She wasn't sure.
Luca suddenly cleared his throat from the back seat.
"I can hear both of you."
Beatrice looked forward again.
"Then forget everything."
"Already forgotten."
They reached the old Clark house twenty-five minutes later.
Beatrice stopped the car across the street.
The building had not changed much.
Small.
Two stories.
Faded siding.
A porch her father had built himself.
The sight tightened something inside her.
She hadn't entered since her mother's funeral.
Dominic noticed.
"You okay?"
"No."
"We can wait."
"No."
She opened the door.
"I'm done waiting."
Marco's vehicle stopped behind them.
Frank climbed out.
The group approached the house carefully.
Beatrice unlocked the front door.
Dust covered everything.
Furniture remained beneath white sheets.
Her mother's old clock still hung on the wall.
Her father's chair sat near the window.
Beatrice touched the back of it.
Memories came without permission.
Samuel teaching her to shuffle cards.
Samuel burning pancakes.
Samuel standing at the door on his final night.
Always watch the exit before you enter, Bea.
She swallowed.
"Where do we start?" Dominic asked.
Beatrice opened the map.
The circle had been drawn around the rear section of the house.
"Kitchen."
They moved there.
Nothing appeared unusual.
Marco checked cabinets.
Luca inspected the floor.
Dominic examined the walls.
Frank stood near the doorway.
Beatrice watched him.
He was looking at something.
"What?"
Frank shook his head.
"Nothing."
"You've been here before."
Everyone stopped.
Frank looked at her.
"Once."
"When?"
"The night your father disappeared."
Beatrice's pulse jumped.
"Why?"
"Samuel called me."
"What happened?"
"He gave me something."
"What?"
Frank looked toward the old pantry.
"A box."
Beatrice approached.
"What did you do with it?"
"He told me to put it somewhere nobody would search."
"Where?"
Frank pointed.
"The wall."
Marco removed a shelf.
Behind it, the plaster looked slightly different.
Luca found a hammer.
Several strikes exposed a metal compartment.
Inside was a black box.
No lock.
Beatrice opened it.
A ledger sat inside.
Dominic exhaled.
They had found it.
But beneath the ledger was something else.
A photograph.
Beatrice picked it up.
Samuel Clark stood beside Antonio Rossi.
Frank stood behind them.
And Vittorio Rossi stood on the opposite side.
Someone had drawn a red X across Vittorio's face.
On the back was a handwritten message.
IF I DISAPPEAR, DO NOT TRUST THE MAN WHO CLAIMS VITTORIO DID IT.
Beatrice slowly turned toward Frank.
His face had gone white.
Dominic took the photograph.
"What the hell is this?"
Frank backed toward the doorway.
"Dominic—"
"You told us Vittorio betrayed my father."
"He did."
"Samuel's note says not to trust whoever tells us that."
"It's not what you think."
Marco stared at his father.
"Dad?"
Frank reached into his jacket.
Luca immediately raised his weapon.
"Hands!"
Frank froze.
"I'm not reaching for a gun."
"Then show me."
Slowly, Frank removed an envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
Samuel's handwriting covered the front.
Beatrice stepped closer.
Her name was written there.
Frank's hands trembled.
"He told me never to give you this unless the ledger was found."
"Give it to me."
"Beatrice, before you read it—"
"Give it to me."
Frank handed it over.
She tore it open.
Inside was a letter.
The first line made her knees weak.
Bea, if Frank gives you this, then the man who betrayed us is still alive.
She kept reading.
Then stopped.
Dominic saw her expression.
"What does it say?"
Beatrice looked at Frank.
He was crying.
"Why is your name here?"
Marco stepped toward his father.
"Dad, what did you do?"
Frank shook his head.
"I was trying to protect all of you."
"From who?"
Before he could answer, the lights went out.
Complete darkness.
Luca cursed.
A sound came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Beatrice felt Dominic grab her arm and pull her behind him.
Another step.
Then another.
Someone was walking toward the staircase.
Marco whispered, "We weren't followed."
Frank answered from the darkness.
"No."
His voice was terrified.
"We didn't have to be."
A floorboard creaked above them.
Then a man's voice drifted down from the second floor.
"Beatrice Clark."
She froze.
She knew that voice.
Dominic switched on his phone light.
Beatrice looked toward the staircase.
A shadow appeared at the top.
May you like
The man stepped into the weak light.
And Beatrice saw the face she had spent twelve years believing was dead.
