Chapter 2 - The Man Who Knew Daniel
"Daniel Russo."
The voice came again.
I grabbed Emma.
Lorenzo moved between us and the hidden doorway.
"Stay behind me."
The bookshelf opened another inch.
The man in the charcoal coat reached inside his jacket.
"Boss."
"I know."
A hand appeared around the edge of the door.
Empty.
Then an elderly man stepped through.
He wore a dark wool coat and carried a leather folder.
Lorenzo relaxed slightly.
"Father Matteo."
The priest looked at me.
"Sophia Russo?"
I couldn't answer.
He knew me.
More importantly, he knew Daniel.
"How do you know my name?"
Father Matteo closed the hidden door.
"Daniel told me."
"When?"
"Three days before he died."
The words landed like stones.
Emma coughed against my shoulder.
I held her tighter.
"What did he tell you?"
The priest glanced at Lorenzo.
"Enough to know that if this bracelet appeared here, something had gone wrong."
Lorenzo placed Daniel's bracelet on the desk.
Father Matteo stared at it.
"I told him not to carry that."
"Why?"
"Because someone could identify him by it."
My mind raced.
"Identify him as what?"
Nobody answered.
I looked at Lorenzo.
"Enough."
He nodded once.
"Agreed."
He turned toward the man in the charcoal coat.
"Marco, get Dr. Bell."
"For the child?"
"Immediately."
"I'm taking Emma home."
"No."
I stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
"Someone removed Daniel's file today."
"So?"
"So your daughter brought Daniel's bracelet into my house today."
Lorenzo looked directly at me.
"I don't believe in coincidences."
A chill moved through me.
"You think someone knows we're here?"
"I think someone has known where you are for longer than either of us realized."
Emma whimpered.
"Mama, home."
My heart broke.
"I know, baby."
Lorenzo's voice softened.
"She needs a doctor."
"I can take her."
"Leaving this house may be dangerous."
"Staying in a mafia boss's house isn't exactly comforting."
Marco looked away, perhaps hiding amusement.
Lorenzo didn't.
"Fair."
He walked toward the window.
Outside, a black SUV sat across the street.
I hadn't noticed it before.
"Is that yours?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Lorenzo closed the curtain.
"Marco."
"Already checking."
I felt suddenly trapped.
Daniel's photograph remained on the table.
I picked it up.
"Tell me everything."
Father Matteo sat.
Lorenzo remained standing.
"Daniel discovered money moving through Duca Construction."
"Illegal money?"
"Some."
Lorenzo answered without embarrassment.
"But that wasn't what concerned him."
"What did?"
"Payments."
"To whom?"
"Police officers. Inspectors. A judge. Two city officials."
My stomach tightened.
"Bribes."
"Yes."
"Your bribes."
Lorenzo's eyes met mine.
"No."
I almost laughed.
"You're telling me somebody was bribing officials through your company without your knowledge?"
"That's exactly what I'm telling you."
Daniel had found the transactions.
At first he'd assumed Lorenzo ordered them.
Then he discovered something strange.
The authorization codes came from an executive account belonging to Lorenzo's uncle, Vittorio Duca.
Vittorio had helped build the organization.
He controlled unions, contracts, politicians.
And apparently, Daniel had discovered that he was building something else.
His own empire.
"Daniel came to me," Lorenzo said.
"Why?"
"Because he thought I was the only person powerful enough to stop Vittorio."
"And were you?"
Lorenzo's face darkened.
"I thought so."
Father Matteo continued.
Daniel copied records.
Bank transfers.
Names.
Dates.
He hid them.
Then he arranged to meet Lorenzo.
"He never arrived," Lorenzo said.
My knees weakened.
"The accident."
"It wasn't an accident."
I sat.
The words I'd feared had finally been spoken.
Emma curled against me.
For two years I had imagined Daniel's final moments.
Rain.
Headlights.
A curve taken too quickly.
Bad luck.
Now another possibility entered my mind.
Someone waiting.
Someone following.
Someone deciding my husband should never reach his destination.
"How?"
Lorenzo didn't soften it.
"His brakes were cut."
I closed my eyes.
"No."
"We confirmed it afterward."
"You knew?"
"Yes."
"For two years?"
"Yes."
I stood so abruptly Emma startled.
"You knew my husband was murdered for two years and said nothing?"
"If I had contacted you—"
"You should have!"
"—you would have become a target."
"I already lost him!"
My voice cracked.
Emma began crying.
I stopped.
Immediately.
I crouched.
"Hey. Hey, baby."
"I'm sorry."
"No, sweetheart."
I kissed her forehead.
"Mommy's not angry at you."
Lorenzo watched us.
Something like guilt crossed his face.
Then the library door opened.
A woman carrying a medical bag entered with Marco.
Dr. Bell examined Emma.
Her temperature had climbed.
103.1.
She needed medication, fluids and rest.
No hospital yet unless the fever rose further or her breathing changed.
Lorenzo ordered a guest room prepared.
I almost protested.
Then Emma whispered, "Sleep."
That ended the argument.
Twenty minutes later she was asleep upstairs.
I sat beside her until her breathing became steady.
When I returned downstairs, Lorenzo was alone.
Daniel's bracelet sat on the desk between us.
"Why did you test her?"
He looked at me.
"The money."
Silence.
"You left it there deliberately."
"Yes."
Anger rose again.
"Why?"
"I saw her hiding under the reading table."
My face burned.
"You knew?"
"From the moment I entered."
"Then why didn't you say something?"
"I wanted to know why my employee had hidden a child in my library."
"So you put five thousand dollars beside her?"
"I was curious."
"She's three."
"I know."
"That's sick."
"Perhaps."
I stared at him.
"What were you expecting?"
"Nothing specific."
"She could have taken it."
"Yes."
"And then?"
"I would have known something about her."
"She's three!"
"And now I know something about her."
I wanted to slap him.
He seemed to recognize it.
"What?"
I demanded.
"What did you learn?"
Lorenzo picked up Daniel's bracelet.
"That she has her father's instincts."
The anger disappeared.
"What does that mean?"
"Daniel was offered money too."
"By Vittorio?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Half a million dollars."
I stared.
"He refused?"
"Immediately."
Of course he had.
Daniel once drove twelve miles back to a grocery store because the cashier had accidentally given him twenty dollars too much.
Lorenzo placed the bracelet in my hand.
"Your daughter ignored five thousand dollars and gave away the most valuable thing she owned because she thought a stranger was cold."
His voice dropped.
"Daniel would have understood."
For the first time, I saw something behind Lorenzo's intimidating exterior.
Grief.
He had lost Daniel too.
Not like I had.
But enough.
"What happened to the evidence Daniel collected?"
"We never found it."
"Then why kill him?"
"Because Vittorio believed Daniel had already given it to me."
"Had he?"
"No."
"Maybe he destroyed it."
Lorenzo shook his head.
"Daniel wasn't that kind of man."
"Then where is it?"
"That's the question people have been asking for two years."
My eyes moved toward the bracelet.
Daniel had kept secrets.
Apparently enormous ones.
I hated him for it.
I loved him for trying to protect us.
Both feelings existed simultaneously.
Then I remembered something.
The blanket.
"What?"
Lorenzo noticed my expression.
"Daniel bought Emma's yellow blanket after she was born."
"So?"
"He was weirdly protective of it."
Lorenzo became still.
"What do you mean?"
"He wouldn't let me wash it at first. He said the stitching was delicate."
"When did he buy it?"
"Three days after Emma was born."
Lorenzo stood.
"When did he discover Vittorio's accounts?"
I didn't know.
Father Matteo, standing in the doorway, did.
"That same week."
Nobody spoke.
I ran upstairs.
Emma was sleeping.
The yellow blanket lay folded at the foot of the bed.
I grabbed it.
Lorenzo followed.
"What are you looking for?"
"I don't know."
We examined the embroidered flowers.
Nothing.
Then Lorenzo touched one corner.
"Here."
The stitching was different.
Barely.
A line had been sewn twice.
He took a small knife from his pocket.
"Don't damage it."
"I won't."
He carefully opened three stitches.
Something hard was inside.
My heart began pounding.
Lorenzo pulled out a tiny brass key.
I stared at it.
Daniel had hidden it inside Emma's blanket.
For two years.
Father Matteo whispered, "My God."
A number had been engraved on the key.
"What's 317?" I asked.
Lorenzo looked at Marco.
Marco's face had gone pale.
"South Station."
"What?"
"Locker 317."
Lorenzo grabbed his coat.
Then Emma's bedroom window shattered.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Lorenzo threw himself toward us.
Marco killed the lights.
May you like
Emma screamed.
And from the street below, someone fired a second shot.
