Chapter 2 - The Name Everyone Feared
Penny stared at the photograph until her own bedroom stopped looking familiar.
"That's impossible."
Lorenzo enlarged the image.
"How old is it?"
"I don't know."
"Look carefully."
Her stomach turned.
The blanket was blue.
She had thrown that blanket away three months earlier.
"Months," she whispered.
Marco locked the office door.
Penny noticed.
"Why are you locking us in?"
"To control who enters," Lorenzo said.
"That isn't comforting."
"It wasn't intended to be."
He handed her phone back.
"Do you have somewhere else to stay?"
"My friend Rachel's."
"No."
Penny blinked.
"You don't get to decide that."
"You're right."
The immediate agreement surprised her.
Lorenzo continued.
"But whoever sent this knows your apartment. If they know your friends, going to Rachel could put her in danger."
Penny hated that he was right.
"Then a hotel."
"Possible."
Marco shook his head.
"Not under her name."
Penny looked between them.
"What exactly are you people?"
Lorenzo's expression almost became a smile.
"Tonight isn't the night for my biography."
"You walked into my anniversary dinner, everyone panicked when you said your name, and now somebody is sending me photographs from inside my bedroom. I think we're past normal introductions."
Fair.
Lorenzo sat opposite her.
"The Moretti family owns legitimate businesses."
Marco coughed.
Lorenzo glanced at him.
"Among other things."
Penny almost laughed.
She didn't.
"You mean organized crime."
"I mean my surname comes with history."
"That's a very expensive way of saying yes."
This time Lorenzo did smile.
Briefly.
Then it vanished.
"The important question is why someone put that memory card beneath your glass."
Penny looked at it.
"I didn't."
"I believe you."
"Derek?"
"Possibly."
"But?"
"But Derek looked genuinely frightened when I found it."
"You can tell?"
"I've had practice."
Marco interrupted.
"Car's ready."
Penny stood.
"Where am I going?"
"Somewhere secure."
She stared at Lorenzo.
"No."
He didn't argue.
"Then choose."
That stopped her.
Derek never asked her to choose.
Lorenzo apparently understood what the word meant.
Penny thought.
"A hotel."
"Fine."
"One I choose."
"Fine."
"And I get my own room."
"Obviously."
Marco looked amused.
Lorenzo ignored him.
Twenty minutes later Penny entered a suite under a name she didn't recognize.
Marco remained downstairs.
Lorenzo stopped at the door.
"Lock this after me."
"You're leaving?"
"You asked for your own room."
Something inside Penny unexpectedly tightened.
Fear, she told herself.
Only fear.
"What about the memory card?"
"I'll find out what's on it."
"And you'll tell me?"
"If it concerns you."
"No."
Lorenzo paused.
"If you discover anything connected to me, you tell me. I spent two years having someone decide what I was allowed to know."
The sentence surprised both of them.
Lorenzo nodded.
"Agreed."
He left.
Penny locked the door.
Then the deadbolt.
Then the chain.
She showered for almost an hour.
The bruise on her wrist darkened beneath hot water.
When she finally climbed into bed, sleep refused to come.
At 3:17 a.m., someone knocked.
Penny sat upright.
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
She reached for her phone.
Lorenzo had given her a number.
She called.
He answered immediately.
"Yes?"
"Someone's outside."
"Don't open it."
"I'm not stupid."
"I didn't say you were."
The handle moved.
Penny backed away.
"Lorenzo."
"I'm coming."
The handle stopped.
A piece of paper slid beneath the door.
Footsteps retreated.
Penny waited.
Seconds later she heard running in the hallway.
Then Marco shouting.
Then silence.
Lorenzo arrived.
Penny opened the door only after recognizing his voice.
Marco stood behind him holding the folded paper with gloved fingers.
"What does it say?" Penny asked.
Lorenzo unfolded it.
His face changed.
"Tell me."
He handed it to her.
It wasn't a threat.
It was an old photograph.
A younger Lorenzo stood beside a dark-haired woman.
Behind them was a warehouse.
Penny recognized the woman.
Her knees weakened.
"No."
Lorenzo caught her elbow.
"You know her?"
Penny stared at the photograph.
"That's my mother."
Lorenzo released her slowly.
"What's her name?"
"Elaine Brooks."
His face went utterly still.
Penny noticed.
"You knew her."
Lorenzo didn't answer.
"Lorenzo."
"Her name wasn't Elaine."
Penny felt the room tilt.
"What?"
"Not when I knew her."
He turned the photograph over.
Someone had written a date.
November 14, 1998.
And underneath:
MORETTI OWES BROOKS THE TRUTH.
Penny looked up.
"My mother died when I was twelve."
Lorenzo stared at the handwriting.
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
He met her eyes.
"Because I saw Elaine Brooks six months ago."
May you like
Penny's heart stopped.
Then someone knocked from inside the adjoining room.
