Chapter 2 - The Man Who Sold Her Name
Damian’s armored sedan had barely left the hotel when Emma called Paul Mercer.
He answered on the second ring.
“Emma?”
His voice sounded concerned.
Too concerned.
“Where are you?”
She looked at Damian.
He shook his head once.
Emma ignored him.
“At the gala.”
“Thank God. I heard there was an incident.”
“How?”
A pause.
Small.
But Emma heard it.
“The news.”
“It happened six minutes ago.”
Another pause.
Damian watched her.
Emma understood.
“You told someone about my audit.”
“What?”
“You told someone what I found.”
“Emma, you sound upset.”
“Answer me.”
“Of course I didn’t.”
Damian held out his hand for the phone.
Emma refused.
“Who is Warren Pike?”
Mercer went silent.
There it was.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“Paul?”
“Listen to me carefully. Do not speak to Moretti.”
Emma looked directly at Damian.
“Why?”
“Because Damian Moretti is dangerous.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Where are you?”
The urgency was different now.
Mercer was not worried about her.
He wanted her location.
Emma disconnected.
Damian looked out the window.
“Well?”
“He lied.”
“About which part?”
“All of it.”
Mateo sat in the front passenger seat.
“We’re five minutes from Mrs. Hayes’s house.”
Emma leaned forward.
“Faster.”
The sedan accelerated.
Her mother, Margaret Hayes, lived in the same modest brick house where Emma had grown up. After Daniel died, Margaret had refused to move.
Too many memories, she always said.
Emma had never understood how memories could make loneliness easier.
Now she wondered whether her mother had stayed for another reason.
Damian’s phone rang.
Mateo answered his own at the same moment.
Both men listened.
Mateo turned.
“House is dark. Front door open.”
Emma reached for the handle.
Damian caught her wrist.
“The car is moving.”
“Then stop it.”
“Emma.”
“My mother is in there.”
“And whoever wants you knows exactly how you’ll react.”
She pulled free.
“Then they know me better than you do.”
The car stopped.
Emma was out before Damian could answer.
She ran toward the house.
“Mom!”
No response.
Damian caught up.
Mateo and two men spread around the property.
Emma reached the front door.
Damian moved ahead of her.
“Stay behind me.”
“You don’t get to—”
“Tonight I do.”
Something in his voice stopped her.
He entered.
The living room was empty.
A lamp had been knocked over.
Emma saw her mother’s glasses on the carpet.
“Mom?”
Kitchen.
Empty.
Back door.
Locked.
Damian examined the floor.
“No forced entry.”
“She knew whoever came.”
They climbed upstairs.
Emma’s childhood bedroom was untouched.
Her mother’s room was empty.
Then Emma heard something.
A faint buzzing.
Her mother’s phone.
Inside the bathroom.
Emma opened the door.
The phone lay in the sink.
A message was displayed.
SHE LIED ABOUT YOUR FATHER.
Emma stared.
“What does that mean?”
Damian did not answer.
“Damian.”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him.
“You’re lying.”
His jaw tightened.
“Not about this.”
Mateo called from downstairs.
They hurried back.
On the dining table sat a white envelope.
Emma’s name was written across it.
Her mother’s handwriting.
Emma opened it.
Inside was a key.
And a note.
Emma,
If anyone ever asks about 417, go to Union Station. Locker 231. Trust no one connected to Ashford and Cole.
And Emma—
Daniel did not die in an accident.
Her hands began trembling.
Damian read over her shoulder.
“Locker 231,” he said.
Emma turned.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew something about my father.”
“My father investigated his death.”
“Why?”
Damian hesitated.
That hesitation frightened her more than the answer.
“Because your father was working for mine.”
Emma stared at him.
“No.”
“He was tracing money.”
“My father hated organized crime.”
“That may be why he agreed.”
Emma backed away.
“My father was not one of your people.”
“I didn’t say he was.”
“You said he worked for your father.”
“As an accountant. Secretly.”
The word accountant seemed suddenly poisonous.
“What happened?”
“My father discovered someone was stealing from both legitimate and illegal Moretti operations. Daniel traced the money.”
“To 417?”
“To a network.”
“Who?”
“My father never found out.”
“Because?”
“Daniel died first.”
Emma closed her eyes.
Seventeen years.
Her mother had known.
She had lied every day for seventeen years.
A sound came from the porch.
Mateo drew his weapon.
Damian pushed Emma behind him.
The front door opened.
Margaret Hayes stepped inside.
“Emma?”
Emma ran to her.
Her mother looked unharmed.
“Mom!”
Margaret embraced her.
Then she saw Damian.
Every trace of relief vanished.
“You.”
Damian stared at her.
“You know me?”
“No.”
“You looked at me like you did.”
Margaret’s eyes moved toward Emma.
“Why is he here?”
Emma held up the note.
“Where were you?”
Her mother went pale.
“You found that?”
“Someone sent me a picture of you. Your door was open. Your phone was upstairs. What happened?”
Margaret sat slowly.
“A man came.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“He took you?”
“No. He told me to leave.”
“And you did?”
“He said you would come here if I stayed.”
Emma frowned.
“He wanted the house empty?”
Margaret looked toward the staircase.
Damian understood first.
“He wasn’t taking her.”
He turned toward Mateo.
“He was searching.”
Everyone went still.
“For what?” Emma asked.
Margaret’s face answered before her mouth did.
Damian looked at the key in Emma’s hand.
“Locker 231.”
Margaret stood.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“Destroy the key.”
“Why?”
“Because your father died protecting what’s inside.”
Emma’s throat tightened.
“Then I deserve to know.”
“No, you deserve to live.”
Damian stepped forward.
“Margaret, what did Daniel find?”
Her mother looked at him for a long moment.
“Something your father should have destroyed.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed.
“My father?”
“You think the Morettis were being robbed.”
“Weren’t they?”
Margaret gave a bitter laugh.
“Daniel discovered something worse.”
“What?”
She looked at Emma.
“The charity money wasn’t going into the Moretti organization.”
Emma waited.
“It was coming out.”
Damian’s expression changed.
Margaret continued.
“Your father was secretly moving millions into legitimate charities.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if he was trying to escape.”
“Escape what?”
Margaret looked toward the dark window.
Before she could answer, headlights swept across the wall.
A black sedan stopped outside.
Mateo moved to the curtain.
“Three men.”
Damian reached for Emma.
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
A voice came through the door.
“Emma Hayes?”
She froze.
May you like
It was Paul Mercer.
And he was not alone.
