Chapter 3 - Midnight at the Abandoned Theater
At 11:57 p.m., Elena stood beside Luca inside an abandoned Chicago theater.
The stolen portrait sat alone beneath the stage light.
Nobody else was visible.
"Stay behind me," Luca whispered.
"No."
"Elena."
"You brought me because the message demanded it."
"I brought you because you climbed into my car before I could stop you."
"Details."
Luca almost looked amused.
Almost.
Then the theater speakers crackled.
A woman's voice filled the darkness.
"Luca."
He froze.
Elena looked toward him.
Whatever blood remained in his face vanished.
The voice continued.
"You've grown into your father's eyes."
Luca stared into the dark balcony.
"Show yourself."
Nothing.
"Show yourself!"
The stage lights flickered on.
An old projector activated.
A woman appeared on the screen.
Not live.
Recorded.
She was older than the portrait.
Perhaps fifty.
Dark hair threaded with gray.
Same eyes.
Same mouth.
Isabella.
Luca stumbled one step forward.
Elena reached for his arm without thinking.
He didn't pull away.
On the screen, Isabella looked directly into the camera.
"If you're seeing this, Luca, then Elena Brooks finished the portrait."
Elena's pulse jumped.
Isabella knew her name.
Years ago.
Impossible.
The recording continued.
"Margaret promised me that one day her granddaughter would become an artist."
Elena covered her mouth.
Her grandmother.
Luca turned toward her.
She could only shake her head.
"I don't understand."
Isabella continued.
"I hoped I would be alive when this happened. If I'm not, the portrait contains what you need."
Luca looked toward the canvas.
"The frame," Elena whispered.
She ran onto the stage.
Luca followed.
Together they removed the canvas from the easel.
Elena turned it over.
The stretcher bars looked ordinary.
Then she noticed one corner.
A tiny symbol burned into the wood.
An "M."
Her grandmother's mark.
Elena pressed the joint.
It opened.
Inside was a small brass key.
Luca stared at it.
The recording continued.
"That key opens box 317 at Union Central Depository."
Thomas's voice suddenly came through the speakers.
"Don't move."
Elena turned.
Thomas emerged from backstage.
He held a gun.
Luca immediately stepped in front of her.
"You."
Thomas's expression was exhausted.
"I'm sorry."
Elena stared.
"You set this up?"
"Some of it."
"Someone shot my studio!"
"Not me."
"Someone tried to kill you."
"Also not me."
Luca's voice became dangerous.
"Put the gun down."
Thomas shook his head.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because the wrong people are already inside your organization."
Marco's warning suddenly made sense.
The car accident.
The broken security.
Someone always knew where they were.
"Who?" Luca demanded.
Thomas looked toward the dark balcony.
Before he could answer, a gunshot cracked.
Thomas fell.
Elena screamed.
Luca dragged her behind the easel.
More shots erupted.
The theater exploded into chaos.
Luca fired toward the balcony.
"Stay down!"
Elena crawled toward Thomas.
Blood spread across his coat.
He was still breathing.
"Thomas."
His eyes opened.
"Key."
"I have it."
"Don't trust..."
His voice failed.
"Don't trust who?"
He gripped her wrist.
"The brother."
Then his hand fell.
Elena stared at him.
Brother?
Luca had reached the side stairs.
Two armed men appeared above.
He fired once.
One disappeared.
The other retreated.
Elena looked toward the exit.
A black SUV crashed through the side doors.
Marco jumped out with three men.
"Move!"
Luca grabbed Elena.
They rushed toward the vehicle.
Someone fired from backstage.
The portrait fell.
Elena twisted away.
"The painting!"
"Leave it!"
"No!"
She ran back.
Luca cursed and followed.
Elena grabbed the canvas.
Another shot hit the easel.
Wood exploded.
Luca covered her body with his.
For one breathless second, they were pressed together on the stage.
His arm around her.
Her face against his chest.
His heartbeat as wild as hers.
"Are you insane?" he demanded.
"Apparently."
"I could have lost you."
The words came too quickly.
They both heard them.
Luca's expression changed.
So did Elena's.
Then Marco shouted.
"Now!"
They escaped.
Thomas survived.
Barely.
The bullet had passed below his collarbone.
Doctors operated secretly at Luca's estate.
By dawn, he remained unconscious.
Elena sat in the kitchen with a blanket around her shoulders.
Luca entered wearing a clean black shirt.
There was dried blood on his knuckles.
"Thomas?"
"Alive."
"Did you find the shooters?"
"One."
"And?"
"Dead before we could question him."
Elena looked down.
"Thomas said something."
Luca stopped.
"What?"
"He said, 'Don't trust the brother.'"
Luca remained completely still.
"You have a brother?"
"A half brother."
"Where is he?"
"Chicago."
"Name?"
"Adrian."
The way Luca spoke it told Elena enough.
"You don't trust him."
"I've trusted Adrian with almost everything."
"That isn't what I asked."
Luca poured coffee.
"He's my father's son from another relationship."
"Older?"
"Three years younger."
"Does he work for you?"
"He runs Moretti Development."
Elena stared.
"The company buying my block."
Luca slowly looked toward her.
The same thought passed between them.
Adrian had selected the neighborhood.
Adrian knew about Elena.
Adrian knew Luca's schedule.
Adrian knew which studio stood at the center of the project.
"Call him," Elena said.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if he's innocent, I warn him somebody is framing him."
"And if he's guilty?"
"I warn him we're suspicious."
"So what do we do?"
Luca picked up the brass key.
"We open box 317."
Union Central Depository operated behind three layers of private security.
Luca arrived with only Elena and Marco.
The key opened a narrow steel box.
Inside were no diamonds.
No money.
Just documents.
Hundreds of pages.
And an old cassette tape.
Marco found a player.
They listened.
Isabella's voice filled the small room.
She named judges.
Politicians.
Police officers.
Construction executives.
Then she named Carlo Moretti.
Luca's father.
Elena watched Luca absorb every word.
Finally came another name.
Adrian Moretti's mother.
Celeste Rinaldi.
Luca closed his eyes.
Isabella explained that Celeste had discovered the evidence and threatened to expose Isabella.
Carlo responded by arranging Isabella's disappearance.
But Isabella escaped before he could kill her.
The recording ended with one final sentence.
"If Luca ever finds this, tell him I stayed away because Carlo threatened the person I loved most."
Luca's mouth tightened.
"You."
Elena whispered it.
"He threatened you."
Marco turned toward Luca.
"There's more."
Beneath the tape was a photograph.
Isabella.
Older.
Standing beside another woman.
Elena recognized that second woman instantly.
Her grandmother Margaret.
On the back, a date had been written.
Twelve years after Isabella's supposed death.
Two years before Margaret died.
Elena sat down.
"My grandmother knew she was alive."
Luca stared at the photograph.
"Where?"
A handwritten address appeared beneath the date.
A rural property outside Galena, Illinois.
They drove there before noon.
The farmhouse had been abandoned.
Dust covered everything.
But someone had lived there once.
Elena found paintings upstairs.
Dozens.
Every one signed by Isabella Moretti.
Luca stood among them as though surrounded by ghosts.
Then Elena noticed a newer canvas.
The paint couldn't have been more than a few years old.
A portrait of Luca.
Not from life.
Copied from newspaper photographs.
Beneath it was another portrait.
Elena.
She stepped backward.
"Why would she paint me?"
Luca stared.
"She knew who you were."
Elena's phone buzzed.
A Chicago news alert appeared.
MORETTI DEVELOPMENT CEO ADRIAN MORETTI ANNOUNCES EMERGENCY PRESS CONFERENCE.
Marco cursed.
They turned on the farmhouse television.
Adrian appeared behind a podium.
Handsome.
Immaculate.
Calm.
"Luca Moretti," he announced, "has become emotionally unstable and dangerous."
Elena stared.
Adrian continued.
He accused Luca of kidnapping Elena Brooks after she refused a property sale.
He claimed Luca had threatened competing businesses.
He announced that Moretti Development's board had voted to remove Luca from all executive authority.
Then Adrian looked directly into the camera.
"And Ms. Brooks, if you're watching, please know that the city is looking for you."
Police lights suddenly appeared outside the farmhouse.
Luca moved toward the window.
Marco drew his weapon.
Elena looked at the portrait Isabella had painted of her.
There was something written beneath the frame.
She pulled it loose.
A single line.
WHEN ADRIAN COMES FOR LUCA, ASK HIM WHO IS BURIED UNDER ST. ANNE'S.
Elena looked toward Luca.
Outside, police doors slammed.
Then a familiar voice called through a loudspeaker.
"Luca Moretti, come outside with your hands where we can see them."
Luca recognized the voice.
May you like
So did Marco.
It belonged to Adrian.
