Chapter 14 - The Night the Music Almost Died
Dante’s proposal stopped.
The theater emptied under police supervision.
Elena removed the ring from the sheet music but did not put it on.
“Hold this thought,” she told Dante.
“I intend to.”
Victor had escaped after a transport vehicle was struck at an intersection.
Two accomplices were arrested.
Victor disappeared.
Ruiz believed he would flee.
Elena did not.
“He’ll come here.”
“Why?” Dante asked.
“Because he hates what this place means.”
Victor had spent twenty-two years trying to erase Arthur.
The reopened theater proved he failed.
Police secured the building.
Hours passed.
Nothing.
At 2:13 a.m., an alarm sounded in the basement.
Smoke.
Elena ran toward the stage.
Dante grabbed her.
“Outside.”
“The manuscripts!”
“Outside.”
Fire spread beneath the orchestra pit.
Sprinklers activated.
Police searched the building.
Victor had entered through the old tunnel.
Elena realized where he was going.
Arthur’s archive.
She broke away from Dante.
“Elena!”
She reached the archive room.
Victor stood inside.
He held a gasoline can.
“You should have stayed a maid,” he said.
Elena stopped.
“You should have stayed in custody.”
He laughed.
The years had finally stripped away his polished calm.
“You think you won?”
“No.”
That surprised him.
Elena looked around at Arthur’s manuscripts.
“You still think this is about winning.”
“It always is.”
“That’s why you lost.”
Victor’s face tightened.
He lifted a lighter.
Dante appeared behind Elena.
“Put it down.”
Victor held the flame near the papers.
“One step and Arthur disappears.”
Elena looked at the manuscripts.
For years she would have done anything to save them.
Then she understood.
Arthur was not paper.
Not a theater.
Not a concerto.
Not evidence.
He was in Elena.
Claire.
The children Elena taught.
The music already heard.
“You can burn them,” she said.
Victor stared.
Dante stared too.
Elena stepped forward.
“You can burn every page.”
Victor’s hand trembled.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“You fought for this.”
“I fought for the truth.”
She looked him directly in the eyes.
“And everybody knows it now.”
Sirens screamed outside.
Victor’s power had always depended on other people being afraid of what he could take.
Elena was finished being afraid.
Victor threw the lighter.
Dante moved.
The flame hit gasoline.
Fire flashed across the floor.
Dante pulled Elena backward.
Victor ran toward the tunnel.
Ruiz’s officers intercepted him.
He fought.
He lost.
Again.
Fire crews contained the blaze before it reached the main archive.
Some manuscripts were damaged.
Most survived.
Victor Calder was returned to custody in restraints.
This time federal marshals handled transport.
No private contractors.
No compromised officers.
By sunrise, Elena sat on the theater steps wrapped in a blanket.
Dante brought coffee.
“You ran toward a fire.”
“Yes.”
“I specifically told you to go outside.”
“Yes.”
“You are impossible.”
“You challenged me to an impossible concerto.”
“That was my first mistake.”
“Your first?”
“Relevant mistake.”
She smiled.
He sat.
The ring remained in Elena’s pocket.
Dante did not mention it.
That made her love him more.
“You’re not going to ask again?”
“Not today.”
“Why?”
“Because last time I attempted it, a fugitive interrupted.”
“Fair.”
“And because I don’t want an answer given while you’re exhausted, traumatized or surrounded by firefighters.”
“Surprisingly mature.”
“I’m evolving.”
Elena leaned against him.
The sun rose over the city.
For the first time, Victor Calder was no longer a shadow waiting around the corner.
He was simply an old man in custody.
The trial began three months later.
Victor was convicted on multiple federal and state charges.
Samuel testified.
Marco testified.
Claire testified.
Sebastian testified.
Elena did too.
She looked directly at Victor while describing her father.
Not the legend.
The man.
The impatient teacher.
The terrible cook.
The stubborn musician.
The father who lied because he was afraid.
The father who loved her.
Victor received a sentence that ensured he would spend the rest of his life in prison.
Outside the courthouse reporters shouted questions.
Elena ignored them.
Dante waited beside a car.
“No piano challenge?”
“Retired.”
“Marriage challenge?”
“Also retired.”
She raised an eyebrow.
He opened the car door.
“I’m learning consent.”
“Excellent development.”
That evening they returned to the theater.
The repaired stage smelled faintly of new wood.
Elena sat at the piano.
Dante stood beside her.
She took the ring from her pocket.
His expression changed.
“You kept it.”
“Yes.”
“That feels promising.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
She placed the ring in his palm.
Then held out her left hand.
Dante stared.
“Are you proposing to yourself?”
“I’m speeding things up.”
He laughed.
Then he became serious.
“Elena Vale.”
“Yes?”
He began to kneel.
She smiled.
And just before his knee touched the stage, the theater doors opened behind them.
Claire stood there holding a sealed package.
“Elena,” she whispered. “This arrived today.”
May you like
The return address contained only two words.
ARTHUR VALE.
