Chapter 2 - The Story Beneath the Bed
Joseph's gaze fell immediately on the photograph.
Not Leonardo.
Not Gemma.
The photograph.
For half a second, the estate manager looked frightened.
Then his expression emptied.
“Mr. Leonardo. Your physical therapist is waiting.”
“My appointment is tomorrow.”
Joseph did not blink.
“Schedule changed.”
“No one told me.”
“I am telling you now.”
Gemma watched him.
Joseph's eyes flicked once toward the blind corner.
He knew.
Perhaps not what they were doing there.
But he knew where the cameras couldn't see.
Leonardo slipped the photograph beneath his blanket.
“I'll be there in ten minutes.”
Joseph hesitated.
Then left.
Gemma waited until his footsteps disappeared.
“The man in the picture was Joseph.”
“Yes.”
“You said only three people knew about the other car.”
“I said three people knew about the blind spot.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
Leonardo raised one finger.
“Matteo.”
A second.
“And the man who installed the cameras.”
Gemma looked toward the door.
“Joseph?”
Leonardo shook his head.
“Joseph recommended him.”
That afternoon, Gemma did something she had promised herself she would never do.
She lied.
When Joseph asked whether Leonardo had shown her anything unusual, Gemma said no.
She hated how easily it came.
Joseph studied her for several seconds.
Then nodded.
“Good.”
At seven, Gemma found Matteo waiting in the kitchen.
It was the first time she had met him face-to-face.
He was taller than Leonardo, though perhaps that was only because she had never seen Leonardo standing. The resemblance between the twins was unsettling.
Matteo's gaze moved over her like a security scanner.
“Ms. Riley.”
“Mr. Ferraro.”
“You leave tea.”
Gemma blinked.
“That isn't prohibited.”
“I didn't say it was.”
“Then we're doing well.”
Matteo almost smiled.
Almost.
“My brother speaks to you.”
“Sometimes.”
“What does he say?”
Gemma wiped her hands.
“You have eleven cameras. You probably know.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“Those cameras exist for his protection.”
“Okay.”
“You disapprove.”
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't need to.”
Gemma looked toward the ceiling.
“Do they record sound?”
“Yes.”
“Then I should probably compliment your suit.”
Matteo stared at her.
Gemma returned to the dishes.
Behind her, he said, “If you ever put my brother in danger, no locked door in New York will keep you safe from me.”
Gemma turned.
There was no theatrical menace in his face.
That made the warning worse.
She calmly nodded.
“Understood.”
Then she handed him a dish towel.
“You're blocking the drawer.”
Matteo looked down at the towel.
No one in his organization had handed him a dish towel in years.
He moved.
Gemma took the spoons.
Neither noticed Joseph standing in the hallway.
That night Leonardo gave Gemma another chapter.
Michael Vale had begun investigating his own accident.
The fictional detective discovered that the road camera recording had disappeared.
The responding officer retired three months later.
The tow-company employee vanished.
And someone had paid the hospital to alter the time Michael's blood was drawn.
Gemma finished reading.
“How much is real?”
Leonardo answered quietly.
“All of it.”
“Why write it as fiction?”
“Because nobody searches a novel for evidence.”
Gemma looked at the tablet.
“You're building a case.”
“For seven years.”
“Against Joseph?”
Leonardo's eyes darkened.
“I don't know.”
The following week changed everything.
Gemma began watching the watchers.
Joseph entered Leonardo's wing whenever the tablet appeared.
A guard named Russo switched shifts whenever Leonardo had therapy.
Twice, Gemma found objects in slightly different positions after returning from lunch.
Someone was searching.
She started leaving harmless decoys.
A grocery receipt beneath the mattress.
An old birthday card inside the desk.
A blank flash drive in a shoe.
The flash drive disappeared.
That confirmed it.
Someone believed Leonardo possessed evidence.
On Friday night, Gemma found him awake at 1:40.
“You're supposed to be gone,” he said.
“Missed the bus.”
“There was another.”
“I missed that too.”
“You're a terrible liar.”
“So I've been told.”
Leonardo was holding the photograph.
Gemma sat nearby.
“Why hasn't Matteo come here?”
Leonardo stared at the black sedan.
“Because he was driving.”
“You said someone convinced him the accident was his fault.”
“He remembers losing control.”
“That's not the same as causing it.”
“He thinks it is.”
“What do you remember?”
Leonardo closed his eyes.
“Headlights.”
His breathing changed.
“A horn.”
Gemma waited.
“Matteo shouting my name.”
His fingers tightened.
“And then?”
“Someone hit us from behind.”
Gemma leaned forward.
“The sedan?”
“Yes.”
“Then Matteo didn't cause it.”
“He doesn't remember the impact.”
“Why?”
“His blood test showed alcohol and sedatives.”
“Was he drinking?”
“One glass of whiskey.”
“Sedatives?”
“Never.”
Gemma felt the pieces moving.
“Someone drugged him.”
Leonardo looked at her.
“That is what I've spent seven years trying to prove.”
At 2:03, the lights flickered.
At 2:09, one camera turned slightly.
Gemma saw it.
“Leonardo.”
“I know.”
At 2:12, his tablet received a message.
NO MORE STORIES.
Gemma's pulse jumped.
“Who knows about the manuscript?”
“No one.”
“I do.”
“You weren't here seven years ago.”
At 2:15, another message appeared.
ASK YOUR BROTHER WHAT HE DID AT 2:17.
Leonardo went still.
Gemma looked toward the camera.
At 2:16, the lens above them went dark.
One minute later, Leonardo's hidden phone rang.
The number was blocked.
He answered.
Neither spoke.
Then a distorted voice whispered two words.
“Hello, Leo.”
Leonardo dropped the phone.
Gemma picked it up.
The call had ended.
But a photograph had arrived.
It showed Gemma entering the Ferraro estate six weeks earlier.
Taken from across the street.
Beneath it was a new message.
SHE WASN'T AN ACCIDENTAL HIRE.
Gemma stared at the screen.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
THIS TIME, ASK GEMMA WHY SHE REALLY CAME TO THIS HOUSE.
