Chapter 5 - The Name My Husband Never Told Me
I grabbed the phone.
“Paulo?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
“Who is this?”
“Don't trust the recording.”
The line died.
Dominic immediately ordered the call traced.
Impossible.
I stood shaking.
Someone had Paulo's voice.
Or Paulo was alive.
Both possibilities terrified me.
We returned to the files from Room 214.
The recording had said Paulo found someone close to Dominic.
But perhaps the files had been arranged to make Adrian appear guilty.
Lucia sat beside me coloring.
Then she asked a question.
“Why did Daddy say Mr. Dominic didn't know?”
Dominic looked at her.
She continued.
“If Daddy thought Mr. Dominic was bad, wouldn't he say not to trust him?”
Simple.
Obvious.
Paulo had believed Dominic was being deceived.
That narrowed the circle.
Dominic listed everyone who had possessed long-term access.
His father.
His sister.
Mrs. Bianchi.
Several executives.
And one man named Victor Hale.
Dominic's oldest business partner.
Victor had known Dominic since childhood.
He had helped build the shipping company.
He had also signed the official paperwork after Paulo's accident.
I looked at Dominic.
“You never mentioned him.”
“He retired.”
“When?”
Dominic's face changed.
“Four years ago.”
The same month Paulo died.
Victor lived outside Boston.
Dominic called him.
No answer.
We drove there.
His house was empty.
No furniture.
No photographs.
Only one object remained.
A framed newspaper clipping about Paulo's fatal accident.
On the back was an address.
A private medical clinic.
We arrived after dark.
The clinic had closed years earlier.
Inside, we found archived admission books.
One entry stopped my heart.
PAULO REVA.
Admitted two hours after his supposed fatal accident.
Transferred the following morning.
Destination withheld.
I couldn't breathe.
Paulo had survived the crash.
Someone had taken him somewhere.
Dominic found another name.
EVELYN FERRERO.
Same clinic.
Same transfer code.
Different year.
Both had been moved through the same hidden system.
“Victor,” Dominic said.
For the first time, I heard genuine fury in his voice.
But there was another signature approving both transfers.
Margaret Vale.
The woman with the silver bracelet.
We had two people.
Victor and Margaret.
One organization.
And perhaps two prisoners who had disappeared years apart.
Then Dominic's phone received a message.
A photograph.
Paulo.
Older.
Alive.
Holding today's newspaper.
I nearly dropped the phone.
Under the photograph:
BRING DOMINIC TO PIER 9.
COME ALONE.
Dominic stared at the image.
Then another message arrived.
This one contained Lucia's name.
And our current location.
Someone was watching us.
I turned toward the clinic window.
Across the street, a black sedan started its engine.
The passenger window lowered.
A woman wearing a silver bracelet looked directly at me.
May you like
She smiled.
Then she raised one finger to her lips.
