Chapter 3 - Phase Two
Marcus drew his weapon.
Dominic turned.
Darkness swallowed half the storage room as the overhead lights went out.
“Stay behind me,” Marcus said.
Dominic ignored him.
Footsteps moved beyond the shelving.
One person.
Maybe two.
Marcus raised his flashlight.
“Police have been notified,” Dominic called.
It was a lie.
The footsteps stopped.
Then came the smell.
Smoke.
Marcus cursed.
“Fire.”
Flames appeared near the records room.
Someone wasn't there to kill Dominic.
They were there to destroy evidence.
Dominic grabbed Antonio's container and his own.
“Out.”
They moved toward the emergency exit.
Locked.
Marcus slammed against it.
Nothing.
Smoke thickened.
Dominic looked around.
His father had died because someone believed evidence could disappear.
He refused to let the same thing happen again.
Marcus fired at the lock.
Once.
Twice.
The door opened.
They stumbled into the freezing night.
Behind them, the storage building burned.
Dominic immediately called Detective Lena Ortiz, a Chicago homicide investigator he trusted precisely because she had never accepted his money.
She arrived twenty minutes later with fire crews.
When Dominic handed her Antonio's sample, she stared at him.
“If this is real…”
“It is.”
“You don't know that.”
“Test it.”
“And yours?”
“Test that too.”
Ortiz looked at the burning building.
“Someone knew you were coming.”
“Yes.”
“Who knew the address?”
“Three people.”
“Names?”
“Me. Marcus. And the woman who called.”
Ortiz looked at Marcus.
Marcus didn't react.
Dominic did.
He trusted Marcus.
Had trusted him for fifteen years.
But trust was exactly what had killed Antonio.
By sunrise, preliminary toxicology from the hospital pills arrived.
They contained Dominic's prescribed medication.
And something else.
A powerful compound capable of triggering fatal cardiac arrhythmia in certain concentrations.
Mercer disappeared before police could question him again.
Crane vanished too.
By noon, warrants were issued.
Dominic went to see Natalie.
She was sitting in a temporary foster intake center drawing with a broken green crayon.
When she saw him, she stood so quickly the chair fell over.
“You came back.”
“I promised.”
She ran toward him.
Then stopped herself.
As if children like her weren't supposed to hug men like him.
Dominic opened his arms.
Natalie ran the remaining distance.
Something inside Dominic broke quietly.
He hadn't been hugged without expectation in years.
Natalie stepped back.
“Did you find your dad's thing?”
“Yes.”
“Was I right?”
Dominic didn't want to burden her.
But he wouldn't lie.
“Yes.”
She looked sad rather than proud.
“I'm sorry.”
Those two words hit harder than anything else that morning.
Dominic sat beside her.
“You saved my life.”
Natalie shook her head.
“I just told you.”
“Sometimes telling is the hardest part.”
She resumed drawing.
Dominic looked down.
Three stick figures.
A little girl.
A tall man.
An older man above them in what appeared to be clouds.
“Who's that?”
Natalie pointed.
“You.”
Then herself.
Then the third figure.
“Your dad.”
Dominic swallowed.
“What are we doing?”
“Not being alone.”
Dominic looked away.
His phone rang.
Ortiz.
“We got the first results on Antonio.”
Dominic stood.
“What did you find?”
“The same compound.”
He closed his eyes.
Eight years.
His father hadn't died naturally.
He had been murdered.
“There's more,” Ortiz said.
“Tell me.”
“The compound wasn't experimental. It came from a controlled pharmaceutical research program.”
“Whose?”
“Mercer was involved.”
Dominic wasn't surprised.
“But he wasn't running it.”
“Who was?”
Ortiz paused.
“Your father funded it.”
Dominic opened his eyes.
“What?”
“Antonio Moretti invested nearly twelve million dollars through a medical foundation.”
“My father didn't invest in pharmaceuticals.”
“Apparently he did.”
Dominic looked through the glass toward Natalie.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
“Find out.”
“We're trying.”
Ortiz hesitated.
“Dominic, there were other deaths.”
“How many?”
“At least six.”
The room seemed colder.
“All at Street Grace?”
“Yes.”
“Same compound?”
“Possibly.”
“Who were they?”
“Businessmen. A judge. An accountant. Two hospital donors.”
Dominic understood.
Not random patients.
People with power.
People whose deaths benefited someone.
“Send me the names.”
“I shouldn't.”
“Lena.”
“I'll send them.”
The list arrived.
Dominic recognized five names.
The sixth stopped him.
Samuel Foster.
Natalie's last name.
He looked through the glass.
Natalie was still drawing.
Dominic returned to her.
“What's your father's name?”
Natalie froze.
“Why?”
“I need to know.”
She put down the crayon.
“Sam.”
“Samuel?”
She nodded.
“What happened to him?”
“Aunt Rebecca said he left.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Dominic sat slowly.
“Did he ever come to Street Grace?”
Natalie thought.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“He got sick.”
Dominic's stomach tightened.
“What kind of sick?”
“His heart.”
Same hospital.
Same story.
Same compound.
Dominic called Ortiz.
“Samuel Foster had a daughter.”
Silence.
Then Ortiz understood.
“Oh God.”
Natalie looked between them.
“What's wrong?”
Dominic ended the call.
He wasn't ready to tell her.
Not yet.
That evening, police searched Mercer's home.
Empty.
Crane's apartment was empty too.
But investigators found financial records connecting both men to a shell corporation.
Dominic recognized its name immediately.
Bellwether Holdings.
His father's former company had done business with Bellwether for years.
Only one person had managed those contracts.
Dominic's uncle.
Victor Moretti.
Antonio's younger brother.
The man who had helped raise Dominic after Antonio died.
Dominic stared at the document.
Then his phone rang.
Victor.
Dominic answered.
“Uncle.”
“Dominic, thank God. I heard someone tried to poison you.”
“Who told you?”
Silence.
The information wasn't public.
Dominic's expression changed.
Victor recovered quickly.
“Everyone is talking.”
“No. They're not.”
Another pause.
“Where are you?”
Victor asked.
Dominic looked through the foster-center window at Natalie.
“Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“About my father?”
The line went quiet.
Then Victor said something Dominic would remember forever.
“Bring the girl.”
Dominic's blood went cold.
“How do you know about Natalie?”
Victor hung up.
Three seconds later, Natalie screamed from the room behind him.
Dominic spun around.
Her chair was empty.
May you like
The window was open.
And her broken green crayon was lying on the floor.
