Chapter 4 - What Mara's Mother Knew
The door opened.
Dominic stood there.
Alone.
Vincent moved between him and Mara.
“I told you to stay at the chapel.”
Dominic lifted both hands.
“I got a message.”
“From who?”
“No number.”
He held up his phone.
ROOM 317. THEY'RE LYING TO YOU TOO.
Pike took the phone.
Dominic looked around the stripped hotel room.
Then he saw the photograph in Vincent's hand.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
“You tell me.”
Dominic took it.
The person standing behind Janet Ellis and Carlo Caruso was much younger.
Twenty, maybe.
Dominic himself.
Mara stared.
“You were here?”
“I was eighteen.”
Vincent's voice hardened.
“You told me you were at school the night Dad died.”
“I lied.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
Vincent looked at her.
“You knew?”
She said nothing.
“Mother.”
“I knew Dominic came home.”
“You covered for him?”
“I protected my son.”
“From what?”
Dominic lowered the photograph.
“From Dad.”
Silence.
Then he told them.
Carlo Caruso had discovered Dominic moving money through shell companies.
Not millions.
At first, thousands.
Dominic had been gambling.
Badly.
He owed men outside the family.
Carlo found out.
He summoned Dominic to Room 317.
Vincent listened without moving.
“You stole from him?”
Dominic nodded.
“I was eighteen and stupid.”
“Why did Dad die?”
“I don't know.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“You were there.”
“I left.”
“When?”
“Before he collapsed.”
“Who stayed?”
Dominic looked toward Teresa.
She answered.
“Carlo's attorney.”
Vincent frowned.
“Samuel Voss?”
“Yes.”
Mara had heard the name.
Everyone had.
Samuel Voss was one of the city's most respected lawyers.
He represented foundations, politicians, developers.
And according to old news articles Mara had read, he had served as the Caruso family's attorney for nearly thirty years.
Pike rubbed his chin.
“Voss was at your funeral.”
Vincent looked up.
“Where?”
“Fourth row.”
Mara remembered the thin man with gold glasses.
He had left before the shooting.
Vincent pulled out his phone.
“Find Samuel.”
One of his guards stepped into the hallway.
Mara stared at the photo again.
“My mother was here with Carlo. Why?”
Dominic answered.
“She was his nurse.”
“That doesn't explain why she was standing outside his hotel room.”
Teresa finally spoke.
“Because Carlo trusted her.”
Everyone looked at her.
She continued reluctantly.
“Your mother had treated Carlo during a previous hospital stay. He believed she was one of the few people around him who wasn't afraid of his name.”
Mara's throat tightened.
“Did she know about the money?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she know who killed him?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
Teresa accepted the accusation.
“I spent seventeen years trying not to know certain things.”
Vincent turned sharply.
“That's over.”
Teresa looked at him.
“Yes.”
Pike asked, “Where did Janet Ellis go after Carlo died?”
Mara thought.
“She quit the hospital three weeks later.”
“Then?”
“We moved to Pennsylvania.”
“Why?”
“My mother said she needed a quieter place.”
Pike nodded.
“Maybe she was running.”
Mara hated the thought.
“My mother wasn't a coward.”
“I didn't say she was.”
Vincent said, “Running can be smart.”
Mara looked at him.
“Did she ever mention Voss?” Pike asked.
“No.”
“Caruso?”
“No.”
“Room 317?”
“No.”
Mara tried to remember boxes after her mother's death.
Documents.
Old letters.
Hospital forms.
Most had been lost when she was evicted.
Then something surfaced in memory.
“A Bible.”
Pike looked at her.
“What?”
“My mother kept an old Bible in a metal box.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
Mara closed her eyes.
When her mother became ill, Mara had moved her belongings into a storage unit.
After the funeral, money ran out.
The storage company auctioned the unit.
Most of it disappeared.
But Mara had saved one plastic tote.
She had left it at a women's shelter because she couldn't carry everything.
“The Harbor House.”
Vincent was already moving.
They left the Calder.
By the time they reached Harbor House, dusk had fallen.
The shelter director recognized Mara.
“Your tote?”
“Yes.”
“Basement storage.”
Mara followed her downstairs.
The tote remained behind stacks of donated blankets.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Sweaters.
Family photographs.
A ceramic mug.
Then the metal box.
Locked.
Mara broke the old latch with a screwdriver.
Inside was the Bible.
A photograph of Mara as a child.
Her mother's wedding ring.
And an envelope.
If Mara ever asks why we left.
Mara sat on the floor.
She opened it.
Her mother's handwriting filled four pages.
Mara read silently.
Then stopped.
Vincent crouched beside her.
“What?”
“My mother saw your father die.”
She continued.
Janet had been called to Room 317 because Carlo complained of chest pain.
When she arrived, Samuel Voss was there.
Carlo had accused Voss of moving family money through hidden accounts.
Voss denied it.
Carlo threatened to expose him.
Janet tried to call an ambulance.
Voss stopped her.
Then Carlo collapsed.
Janet suspected poisoning.
Voss warned her that if she talked, Mara would grow up without a mother.
So Janet ran.
But she copied documents first.
Pike asked, “What documents?”
Mara turned the page.
“I hid everything where Carlo told me the family never looks.”
Vincent frowned.
“Where?”
Mara read the next sentence.
Under the dead.
Vincent stared.
Teresa whispered, “The family crypt.”
The Caruso family mausoleum sat inside St. Dominic Cemetery.
Pike obtained a warrant.
Vincent ignored the warrant.
He had the key.
They arrived after dark.
Mara stayed close to the detective.
Rows of stone crypts lined the interior.
Carlo Caruso's name was engraved on the far wall.
Vincent stood before it.
He had been nineteen when his father died.
For a moment, he wasn't a mafia boss, businessman, or target.
He was simply a son.
Mara understood that kind of grief.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
Vincent looked at her.
“So am I.”
They opened a narrow maintenance panel beneath Carlo's crypt.
Behind it sat a sealed plastic pouch.
Janet's handwriting again.
Inside were banking records.
Photocopies.
Account transfers.
Names.
One name repeated.
SV Holdings.
Samuel Voss.
Pike smiled without humor.
“Well, counselor's having a bad week.”
Vincent found another page.
Then froze.
“What?”
Mara looked.
The paper listed payments made during the previous three years.
Not seventeen years ago.
Recent.
Very recent.
One recipient:
D. CARUSO.
Dominic.
Mara's stomach dropped.
Vincent stared at the page.
Pike said, “That doesn't prove your brother's involved.”
Vincent didn't answer.
Then Mara noticed another name.
A security company.
Garrison Protective Services.
She knew that name too.
“That's the company from the building.”
“What building?” Vincent asked.
“The lobby where I was sleeping.”
The security guard who threw her out worked for Garrison.
Pike checked the payment dates.
“One transfer was made the morning of the crash.”
Vincent's gaze sharpened.
“Your being at that building wasn't random.”
Mara's mouth went dry.
Someone had known where she slept.
Someone had arranged to move her onto the sidewalk.
Right before Vincent's car went into the river.
“They wanted me to see the crash.”
Pike nodded slowly.
“Or they wanted you close enough to do exactly what you did.”
“Save him?”
Vincent looked at the papers.
“Maybe.”
Mara felt anger rise.
“You mean I was used.”
Vincent met her eyes.
“I think we all were.”
A phone rang.
Pike answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He put the call on speaker.
A patrol officer spoke rapidly.
“Detective, we located Samuel Voss's vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Airport parking garage.”
“And Voss?”
“Missing.”
Pike swore.
The officer continued.
“But there's something else.”
“What?”
“We found blood in the trunk.”
Everyone went silent.
Then a second voice came through the phone.
“Detective?”
“Yes?”
“We identified the blood.”
Pike waited.
“It belongs to Dominic Caruso.”
Vincent turned toward his brother's last known location.
Then a message appeared on Mara's phone.
A number she didn't recognize.
It contained a photograph.
Dominic tied to a chair.
Behind him stood Samuel Voss.
May you like
And beneath the photograph were six words.
BRING MARA, OR YOUR BROTHER DIES.
