Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Wasn't a Prisoner
I stared at Elena's photograph until the screen dimmed.
She looked thinner than in the video.
Tired.
But unmistakably alive.
And unmistakably free.
No ropes.
No bruised wrists.
No weapon visible.
She stood beside a shadowed man as if she had chosen to be there.
Gabriel looked over my shoulder.
"Could be staged."
"Everything could be staged."
Price shifted against the planter.
"You can't bring Lucy."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Then they kill Daniel."
"Maybe."
He stared at me.
"You say that like you're willing to lose him."
"I'm willing to lose anyone before handing over a three-year-old child."
Price studied me differently after that.
Apparently Elena wasn't the only one who had expected a monster.
I returned to the secure suite.
Sofia sat upright on the bed.
Lucy was asleep beside her, still clutching Buttons.
Dr. Harris had given her warm milk.
The sight looked so absurdly normal that for a moment I almost forgot men had breached my property twenty minutes earlier.
Almost.
Sofia looked at my face.
"What happened?"
"Elena is alive."
"That's good."
"Maybe."
I showed her the photograph.
Her smile faded.
"She knows him."
"Looks that way."
Lucy stirred.
I lowered the phone.
Sofia waited until the child settled again.
"What are you thinking?"
"That Elena sent Lucy to me while apparently staying voluntarily with the same people she's running from."
"Unless she's infiltrating them."
"With her daughter as collateral?"
"Parents do impossible things when they're out of options."
I looked at Sofia.
She knew that better than most.
Our mother had died trying to get us away from our father's world.
At least that was the story we'd been told.
Sofia touched my wrist.
"You can't go to that storage unit alone."
"They expect me to."
"Exactly."
"Gabriel will track me."
"That's not what I meant."
I glanced at sleeping Lucy.
"I won't take her."
"Good."
"But I need to know why Elena trusted me."
Sofia smiled sadly.
"Maybe because you've spent your whole life pretending you're worse than you are."
"Go back to sleep."
"That's your response?"
"Yes."
"You really hate emotional conversations."
"More than bullets."
I left before she could continue.
An hour later, I drove toward Unit 317.
Alone, visibly.
Not actually.
Gabriel's people shadowed me from three separate routes.
Price stayed at the estate under guard.
The storage facility sat between an auto body shop and an abandoned warehouse.
At one-thirty in the morning, the entire block looked deserted.
Unit 317 was inside the second building.
I entered through the pedestrian door.
No guards.
No cameras that I could see.
The brass key fit.
But Lucy's mother had said not to use it first.
Use the rabbit first.
I examined the unit door.
A cheap keypad hung beside it.
Four digits.
Buttons.
Maybe the rabbit held another clue.
I had photographed every inch of the toy.
One detail stood out.
Its replacement eye had four tiny numbers etched around the rim.
I entered them.
The lock clicked.
Then I used the brass key.
Two locks.
Two clues.
Elena had made sure anyone who simply stole Lucy's key still couldn't enter.
Smart woman.
I raised the door.
Daniel Voss sat inside.
Alone.
Still tied to the chair.
He looked terrible.
"Adrian."
"Tell me why I shouldn't shoot you."
"Because I've spent six months trying to stop your brother."
"So Matteo's alive."
"Yes."
"You knew."
"Yes."
"How long?"
Daniel closed his eyes.
"Four years."
I hit him.
The chair nearly toppled.
"You let me believe my brother was dead."
"I didn't have a choice."
"You always had a choice."
"Not if I wanted Sofia alive."
That stopped me.
"What did you say?"
Daniel's nose was bleeding.
He looked up.
"The people behind this network used Matteo for years. When he tried getting out, they threatened your sister."
"Who are they?"
"Untie me."
"Name first."
"Victor Hale."
I knew the name.
Everyone in Chicago did.
Victor Hale was one of the most respected businessmen in Illinois.
Shipping.
Hotels.
Charities.
Political donations.
He had been photographed with governors, senators, police chiefs.
And my father.
Many times.
"Victor Hale is seventy-two."
"And still runs everything."
"The trafficking?"
Daniel nodded.
"The money. The routes. The officials. The dirty cops. Bellweather was only one layer."
"Where is Elena?"
"Safe for now."
"With Matteo?"
Daniel stared at me.
"Yes."
The room tilted slightly.
"You've seen him."
"Many times."
"Why hasn't he come to me?"
"Because you would have done exactly what you're doing now."
"Which is?"
"Declared war before knowing which direction to shoot."
I cut his restraints.
Daniel rubbed his wrists.
"The fire eighteen years ago was meant to kill Matteo. Hale arranged it."
"Why?"
"Your brother discovered your father had been laundering money for Hale."
My jaw tightened.
"My father worked for him?"
"At first."
"And later?"
"He tried to get out."
"That isn't the father I knew."
"No."
Daniel looked at me.
"Because you didn't know him at the end."
I wanted to reject it.
My father had been ruthless.
Controlling.
Sometimes cruel.
But he had always insisted no Moretti business touched trafficking.
It was one line even he refused to cross.
Maybe now I knew why.
"What happened after the fire?"
"Matteo survived. Barely. Your father hid him."
"My father told us he was dead."
"To protect him."
"Then why didn't Matteo come back after Dad died?"
"Because Hale was watching you."
I turned away.
Eighteen years.
Birthdays.
Funerals.
Sofia's graduation.
Our mother's memorial.
Every year we lit a candle for Matteo.
Every year he was alive.
"Did Sofia know?"
"No."
"Good."
Daniel stood unsteadily.
"Adrian, there's something else."
"Of course there is."
"Elena didn't randomly choose you."
I faced him.
"Why?"
"Her father worked for your father."
"Who?"
"Thomas Hart."
The name meant nothing.
Daniel continued.
"He kept records. Your father gave him evidence against Hale before he died."
"Where is it?"
"Elena has part."
"And the rest?"
Daniel looked toward the rear wall of the storage unit.
"Behind there."
We moved several boxes.
A false panel appeared.
Inside was a metal case.
I opened it.
Documents.
Photographs.
Account ledgers.
A small cassette recorder.
And a sealed envelope.
My father's handwriting covered the front.
For Adrian.
My hands froze.
Daniel said nothing.
I opened it.
Adrian,
If this reaches you, then I failed to finish what I started.
I made mistakes you may never forgive.
But there is one thing I need you to understand.
Matteo did not die in that fire.
I stopped reading.
Even though I already knew, seeing my father's handwriting made it real.
I continued.
I hid him because Victor Hale ordered his death. I lied to you because you were young enough to survive ignorance.
If Hale is still alive when you read this, do not fight him with guns.
Fight him with proof.
And Adrian—
Trust Matteo.
Even when he gives you reasons not to.
I lowered the letter.
Daniel watched me.
"There's more."
The final sentence read:
But never trust the man standing beside him.
A sound came from behind us.
Metal scraping concrete.
Daniel reached for his weapon.
The rear wall moved.
Not a wall.
A hidden door.
It slowly opened.
A man stepped through.
Older than I remembered.
A burn scar along his neck.
Same dark eyes as mine.
Same crooked line in his left eyebrow.
Eighteen years disappeared in one breath.
"Hello, little brother," Matteo said.
May you like
Then another man stepped out behind him.
And Daniel whispered, "Adrian, that's Victor Hale's son."
