Chapter 3 - What Her Father Had Hidden
Marin read the signature three times.
Dominic Castellano.
Samuel Holloway.
Fourteen years ago.
She looked at Dominic.
“You knew my father.”
Dominic's expression gave nothing away.
“No.”
“Your signature says otherwise.”
“That isn't my signature.”
Rafael stepped closer.
“Boss?”
Dominic handed him the document.
“Forgery.”
Marin folded her arms.
“You recognized that very quickly.”
“Because fourteen years ago I wasn't running Castellano operations.”
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-five.”
“You couldn't sign papers?”
“I could.”
“Then why are you certain?”
Dominic pointed to the crest stamped above the signature.
“That seal wasn't used until nine years ago.”
Rafael examined it.
“He's right.”
Marin stared at the paper.
“So someone created this later and backdated it.”
“Yes.”
“Why put it inside my father's box?”
Nobody answered.
Marin looked at the photograph.
Her father stood beside another man outside a warehouse.
Samuel looked younger.
Stronger.
The second man had dark hair and wore an expensive coat.
Dominic took the photograph.
His jaw tightened.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Victor Salerno.”
Marin sat down.
The dead man.
The same name whispered near the library.
The same man connected to the silver case.
Her father had known him.
Dominic turned the photograph over.
Words were written on the back.
S.H. + V.S.
Bellgrave Docks
Warehouse 18
If anything happens, find D.C.
Marin pointed.
“D.C.”
Dominic nodded.
“Dominic Castellano.”
“You still think my father didn't know you?”
“He may have known about me.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
Marin stood.
“My father died of a heart attack.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You said that.”
“What if he didn't?”
Silence.
Marin hated that silence.
“Say something.”
Rafael spoke instead.
“We need to verify the medical records.”
“Do it.”
Dominic's tone made it an order.
Marin paced across the office.
“What did Victor Salerno do?”
Dominic leaned against the desk.
“He worked for my uncle.”
“In what way?”
“He handled money.”
“That's vague.”
“It is meant to be.”
Marin stopped.
“Someone threatened my mother. Someone broke into my apartment. Someone put a forged document inside my father's lockbox. I think I've earned more than vague.”
Dominic watched her.
Then nodded.
“Victor moved money for criminal organizations across three states.”
Marin's mouth went dry.
“My father?”
“I don't know.”
“He was an accountant.”
Dominic and Rafael exchanged another look.
“Oh, come on.”
Rafael sighed.
“That would make him useful.”
Marin sat slowly.
Her father had been the quietest man she knew.
Sunday pancakes.
Bad jokes.
Cheap reading glasses.
He had collected baseball cards and complained about parking tickets.
Not crime.
Not Victor Salerno.
Not secret warehouses.
“There has to be another explanation.”
“There usually is,” Dominic said.
She looked at him.
“That sounded hopeful.”
“It wasn't.”
Rafael left to make calls.
Dominic remained.
Marin turned the signet ring around her finger.
“You know this engagement thing isn't real.”
Dominic looked at the ring.
“For now.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because normal people don't propose as a workplace disciplinary technique.”
“I didn't propose.”
“You put a ring on my finger and announced I was your future wife.”
“That's fair.”
Marin stared at him.
“Are you always like this?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Usually I'm worse.”
To her horror, Marin laughed.
Dominic smiled.
There was something dangerous about the ease of it.
Not because he frightened her.
Because he didn't.
He should have.
Everybody else in Bellgrave seemed terrified of Dominic Castellano.
Marin had seen Celeste go pale when he spoke.
Guards straightened when he entered.
Men lowered their voices around his name.
Yet Marin had spent the afternoon arguing with him.
And every time she expected anger, she found amusement.
“You should take the ring back.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“You were threatened within an hour of entering my office.”
“And?”
“Anyone watching you needs to believe you're under my protection.”
“Couldn't you tell people I'm under your protection?”
“I did.”
“You told them I'm marrying you.”
“Very clear protection.”
Marin covered her face.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“You admit it?”
“I didn't say it was ineffective.”
Rafael returned.
His expression was grim.
“We got Samuel Holloway's hospital record.”
Marin stood.
“And?”
“Official cause was myocardial infarction.”
She exhaled.
“But?”
Rafael looked at Dominic.
“There was no autopsy.”
“My father had heart problems.”
“Did he?”
Marin frowned.
“What?”
“His primary-care records show no diagnosed cardiovascular disease.”
“That can't be right.”
“He'd complained about chest pain.”
“When?”
“A week before he died.”
Rafael held out a copied report.
“The emergency room treated him for severe anxiety.”
Marin remembered.
Her father had been nervous that week.
Looking out windows.
Checking locks twice.
She had been twenty-one.
She thought he was worried about money.
“What happened the night he died?”
Marin closed her eyes.
“He called me.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“What did he say?”
“I was at college. He asked if I still had the little brass key he'd given me.”
“The key in the box?”
“No.”
She opened her eyes.
“A different key.”
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
Marin remembered an old necklace.
Her father had given it to her for her eighteenth birthday.
A brass key hung beneath a silver pendant.
“I wore it for years.”
“And now?”
“In my jewelry box.”
“At your apartment?”
“Yes.”
Rafael cursed.
Dominic immediately pulled out his phone.
“Send two teams.”
Marin grabbed her coat.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“My father's key.”
“Which makes you the one person I don't want walking into an unsecured apartment.”
“I know where it is.”
“Tell Rafael.”
“No.”
Dominic stared.
Marin held his gaze.
“I've been treated like something other people can move around my entire life. Too big. Too loud. Too poor. Too inconvenient. I'm not becoming luggage because you're scary.”
One corner of Dominic's mouth moved.
“You think I'm scary?”
“That is not the important part.”
“It was my favorite part.”
“Dominic.”
He sighed.
“Stay between me and Rafael.”
They drove into Bellgrave in three black SUVs.
Marin's apartment occupied the second floor above a bakery.
The front door had been forced open.
Drawers were emptied.
Clothes covered the floor.
Her mattress had been sliced.
Marin stopped in the bedroom.
Someone had searched everything.
Dominic stood beside her.
“Where?”
She pointed to a wooden jewelry box on the dresser.
Open.
Empty.
“No.”
She rushed forward.
The pendant was gone.
Dominic's men searched.
Nothing.
Marin pressed both hands against the dresser.
“They took it.”
Dominic looked around.
“Maybe.”
“What does that mean?”
“You said you wore it for years.”
“Yes.”
“When did you stop?”
Marin thought.
After her father died, wearing the key made her sad.
She had eventually hidden it somewhere safer.
Then she remembered.
“The cookbook.”
“What?”
“My father wrote recipes.”
She ran to the kitchen.
Books had been thrown across the floor.
Marin searched.
One blue binder remained wedged behind the refrigerator.
She pulled it free.
Inside the back cover was a tiny taped envelope.
She tore it open.
The brass key fell into her palm.
Dominic smiled.
“Your father was cautious.”
“He was terrified.”
Marin turned the key over.
A number was engraved.
Rafael entered.
“Boss, we found something downstairs.”
“What?”
“A man watching the building.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him up.”
Marin waited.
Two guards dragged a thin man into the apartment.
He looked at Dominic.
Then at Marin.
His face changed.
“Samuel's daughter.”
Marin stepped forward.
“You knew my father?”
The man laughed nervously.
“Everybody knew Samuel.”
“Who are you?”
“Someone who remembers what he stole.”
Dominic moved closer.
“What did Samuel steal?”
The man looked at Marin.
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Victor's insurance policy.”
Rafael grabbed his shoulder.
“Where is Victor?”
The man smiled.
Then his eyes settled on the key in Marin's hand.
His smile vanished.
“Oh, God.”
Marin tightened her fingers.
“What?”
“You found it.”
“What does 1817 open?”
The man backed toward the wall.
Dominic caught him.
“Answer her.”
“Not what.”
The man swallowed.
“Where.”
Dominic stared.
“Where?”
“Bellgrave Central Station.”
Marin's heartbeat quickened.
“Locker 1817?”
The man shook his head.
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looked directly at Marin.
“Platform eighteen. Train seventeen.”
Rafael frowned.
“There hasn't been a train seventeen in years.”
The man's face went pale.
“Exactly.”
Dominic grabbed his jacket.
“What is there?”
Before the man could answer, a red laser dot appeared on his chest.
Marin saw it first.
“Dominic!”
Glass exploded.
The man collapsed.
Dominic pulled Marin behind the kitchen island.
Guards shouted.
Another shot shattered the window.
Marin clutched the brass key.
The wounded man crawled toward her.
Blood darkened his shirt.
He grabbed her wrist.
“Your father didn't die because of Victor.”
Marin stared down.
“Who killed him?”
His lips trembled.
He whispered one word.
“Castellano.”
May you like
Then the kitchen door slowly opened behind Dominic.
Someone stepped inside.
