Chapter 3 - The Photograph from September
Beatrice spun toward the doorway.
The figure disappeared.
She ran.
“Hey!”
The corridor was nearly empty.
An orderly pushed a cart near the elevators.
A nurse typed at the central station.
No gray coat.
No stranger.
Beatrice rushed to the elevator.
The doors closed before she reached them.
“Damn it.”
She returned to Theo.
He was crying.
She locked the door.
“Tell me what you saw.”
“The man.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don't know.”
“You said that's him.”
Theo pressed the shark against his chest.
“He was there when the boom happened.”
Beatrice sat beside him.
“Theo, you were four.”
“I remember.”
She believed him.
Not because childhood memory was perfect.
Because fear was.
At midnight, Beatrice drove to the Sarti mansion.
Adriano opened the front door himself.
His expression changed when he saw her.
“What happened?”
She held up the photograph.
“You tell me.”
Adriano went still.
Beatrice pushed past him.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He said nothing.
She shoved the phone against his chest.
“My sister died because of that explosion.”
“I know.”
“You know now, or you knew then?”
“Now.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I am not.”
“Who caused it?”
Adriano's silence answered enough.
Beatrice stepped backward.
“Oh my God.”
“It was meant for me.”
Her eyes filled.
“What?”
“The explosive device was planted by Salerno's people. My men found it. They tried to move it away from the pavilion.”
“And moved it toward my sister?”
“They believed the service area was empty.”
“Believed?”
“Beatrice—”
“My sister is dead because your men believed?”
Adriano accepted the words without defending himself.
“That is what the evidence suggests.”
She slapped him.
The sound cracked through the foyer.
Security moved at the far end.
Adriano raised one hand.
They stopped.
Beatrice was shaking.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I found out last night.”
“You knew enough this morning.”
“Yes.”
“And you tried to give me money.”
“Yes.”
She laughed once, bitterly.
“Of course you did.”
“I wasn't trying to buy your forgiveness.”
“What were you buying?”
“Time.”
“For what?”
“To find the person who falsified the casualty report.”
She stared at him.
“Someone falsified it?”
Adriano brought her into the study.
He showed her the file.
Mara Carson.
Theodore Carson.
Critical neurological injury.
Then the altered report.
Beatrice read it twice.
“Who is Vescari?”
“A man who worked for me.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Find him.”
“I intend to.”
“No.”
She looked directly at Adriano.
“You find him before he gets anywhere near Theo.”
Adriano realized something then.
Beatrice was frightened of him.
But fear wasn't controlling her anymore.
Aunt Bea was.
“I will.”
She showed him the threatening message.
His expression changed.
“Who else saw this?”
“No one.”
“From now on, you don't go anywhere alone.”
“You don't get to order me—”
“Theo identified someone at his door tonight.”
That stopped her.
“How did you know?”
“I didn't.”
She told him.
Adriano called Luca.
Within twenty minutes, hospital security footage was being reviewed.
At 2:13 a.m., Luca called.
“We found your gray coat.”
“Identity?”
“No clear face.”
“Where did he go?”
“Parking structure.”
“Vehicle?”
“A red sedan.”
Beatrice heard.
Her eyes met Adriano's.
Theo had said red car.
Luca continued.
“And there's something else.”
“What?”
“He wasn't watching Beatrice first.”
“Who was he watching?”
“Theo's surgeon.”
Adriano straightened.
“Dr. Anand?”
“Yes.”
Beatrice's stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Luca answered through the speaker.
“We don't know.”
By dawn, Adriano had arranged discreet protection around the hospital.
Beatrice refused to move Theo.
“The surgery is tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“He cannot miss it.”
“He won't.”
“You promise?”
Adriano hesitated.
The question sounded different coming from her.
“Yes.”
She looked away.
“Promises don't have a great record around me.”
That afternoon, Dr. Priya Anand met them in a consultation room.
She explained the procedure.
The fragment was positioned near nerve tissue.
Removing it carried risks.
Leaving it carried worse ones.
“The surgery could give Theo the best chance at recovering function,” she said. “But there are no guarantees.”
Beatrice squeezed her hands together.
Adriano sat silently beside her.
Dr. Anand looked between them.
“Are you family?”
“No,” they answered simultaneously.
The doctor nodded slowly.
“All right.”
Afterward, Beatrice stood near the window.
“What happens if he never walks?”
Adriano didn't offer false reassurance.
“Then we make sure he has everything he needs.”
“We?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
“You don't get to turn guilt into ownership.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She studied him.
For the first time, she saw something beyond the reputation.
Not kindness exactly.
Regret.
Maybe that was where kindness sometimes began.
That evening, Luca arrived with another discovery.
“The photograph sent to Beatrice wasn't from police evidence.”
Adriano frowned.
“Then where?”
“Private surveillance.”
“Whose?”
Luca put a photograph on the table.
A logo was visible in one corner.
Vescari Security Holdings.
Carlo's company.
“He kept copies,” Luca said.
Beatrice stared at the image.
“Then he's alive.”
“Probably.”
Luca nodded toward another page.
“And someone accessed those archives yesterday.”
“Location?”
“Chicago.”
Adriano stood.
“Address?”
Luca slid over a paper.
Beatrice looked at it.
She knew the street.
“No.”
Adriano turned.
“What?”
“I know that address.”
“How?”
Her face drained of color.
“My sister lived there before Theo was born.”
Adriano looked down at the address again.
Apartment 3C.
“Who lives there now?”
Beatrice whispered the answer.
“No one.”
At 11:30 that night, Adriano and Luca entered the abandoned apartment.
Dust covered the floor.
The furniture was gone.
A single metal filing cabinet remained.
Adriano opened it.
Empty.
Luca checked the bedroom.
“Adriano.”
He followed.
Dozens of photographs covered one wall.
Beatrice.
Theo.
The mansion.
Mercy General.
And Adriano.
At the center hung a photograph of Mara Carson.
Across her face someone had written:
SHE KNEW.
Below it was a sealed envelope.
Adriano reached for it.
The handwriting on the front contained only one name.
May you like
BEATRICE.
Then a floorboard creaked behind them.
