Chapter 2 - The Rope Around Roman Duca
Clara stared at the screen.
ELI ELLIS.
Her husband had been dead for three years.
Roman saw the name.
“Who is Eli?”
“My husband.”
Roman looked at her.
Clara swallowed.
“He died.”
The phone continued ringing.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
Not recorded breathing.
Someone was there.
“Who is this?”
A distorted voice whispered two words.
“Wine cellar.”
The call ended.
Clara’s face went white.
Roman took the phone.
“Your husband’s number?”
“Yes.”
“How did he die?”
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Before you worked here?”
“Yes.”
Roman looked toward Maisie.
The little girl had returned to Mrs. Bellini’s arms.
Something cold moved through him.
Coincidences existed.
Roman simply did not trust them.
“Come inside.”
Clara shook her head.
“You received a message telling you to bring me to the wine cellar.”
Roman’s gaze sharpened.
“How did you know?”
“You looked at your phone like you wanted to break it.”
Despite everything, Roman almost smiled.
“Stay close to me.”
They entered through the kitchen.
Roman’s men were beginning to gather, but he trusted none of them enough to explain.
He ordered the mansion locked down.
Nobody left.
Nobody entered except emergency personnel.
Then he called his family attorney, Gabriel Shaw, and told him to come immediately.
“Why him?” Clara asked.
“Because Gabriel hates everybody equally.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“It is in my family.”
Roman changed into dry clothes while a private doctor examined the bruises around his wrists and found traces of a sedative in his blood.
Clara sat outside with Maisie.
The child colored quietly.
Yellow flames.
A black square.
A tall stick figure.
Another figure beside the door.
Clara stared.
“Sweetheart, who is that?”
Maisie pointed at the figure beside the door.
“Man.”
“What man?”
“The man before smoke.”
Clara’s stomach tightened.
“You saw somebody at the shed?”
Maisie nodded.
“Did you know him?”
The toddler thought hard.
“Shiny shoes.”
Clara looked at the drawing.
“Anything else?”
Maisie drew three circles.
Then she lost interest and reached for a cracker.
Roman appeared in the doorway.
His expression was controlled.
The fury beneath it was not.
“The sedative was in my coffee.”
Clara stood.
“Who brought it?”
“My cousin Adrian.”
“The cuff link.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are we still wondering who did it?”
“Because Adrian is many things. Careless isn’t one of them.”
Roman explained.
Adrian DeCaro had worked beside him for eleven years. He knew every camera on the estate. Every guard rotation. Every emergency route.
If Adrian planned to murder Roman, leaving a personalized cuff link beside his body would be absurd.
“It could have been planted,” Clara said.
“That’s what I think.”
“By Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
Roman looked at Maisie’s drawing.
“What’s that?”
Clara explained.
Roman crouched beside the child.
“Maisie.”
She looked up.
“Did the shiny-shoe man have hair?”
“Yep.”
“What color?”
She pointed at Roman’s.
“Dark?”
She nodded.
“That eliminates half my staff.”
Maisie smiled.
Roman pointed at the circles.
“What are those?”
“Buttons.”
“On his shirt?”
She shook her head.
“Hand.”
Roman frowned.
Clara understood first.
“A ring?”
Maisie nodded.
“Three?”
“Three shiny.”
Roman stood.
He knew only one man who regularly wore three rings.
Daniel Voss.
But knowing was not proving.
They went downstairs.
The wine cellar occupied the oldest section of the mansion.
Roman opened the steel door.
Clara hesitated.
“If someone told us to come here, walking in seems stupid.”
“It is.”
“And we’re doing it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever planned today already knows we’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Roman looked at her.
“You ran into a burning building with a garden knife.”
“That was fear.”
“What do you do when you’re brave?”
“I’ll let you know.”
They descended.
Rows of bottles disappeared into darkness.
At the back wall, Roman stopped.
A bottle rack had been moved.
Scratches marked the floor.
“This wasn’t like that yesterday.”
Together they pulled the rack aside.
Behind it was a narrow metal door.
Roman stared.
He had lived in the mansion since childhood.
He had never seen it.
There was no handle.
Only a keypad.
Clara noticed four faint fingerprints.
“Try Maisie’s birthday.”
Roman looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because whoever called me used Eli’s number. Whoever this is knows about my family.”
Roman entered the date.
Red light.
Wrong.
Clara thought.
Then she remembered something.
“The day Eli died.”
Roman entered it.
Green.
The lock clicked.
Neither spoke.
Roman opened the door.
A small room waited beyond.
No wine.
No furniture.
Just filing cabinets.
Photographs covered one wall.
Roman stepped inside.
His breath stopped.
There were pictures of him.
Hundreds.
Meetings.
Restaurants.
Funerals.
Airports.
His bedroom balcony.
Then Clara saw herself.
A photograph showed her walking Maisie to preschool.
Another showed her buying groceries.
Another showed her entering the Duca mansion on the day she had applied for work.
“That was two years ago.”
Roman looked at the date.
Someone had been watching Clara before she ever worked for him.
She backed away.
“No.”
Roman opened the nearest cabinet.
Inside were employee files.
Not official personnel files.
Private investigations.
Bank records.
Medical records.
Family histories.
Clara found hers.
ELLIS, CLARA.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
The first page contained a photograph of Eli.
Underneath was a typed sentence.
SUBJECT POSSESSES FINANCIAL EVIDENCE CONNECTING DUCA ACCOUNTS TO INTERNAL DIVERSION.
Clara read it twice.
“I don’t understand.”
Roman did.
Money had been disappearing from several legitimate Duca businesses for years.
Small amounts at first.
Then millions.
Roman had suspected an internal theft but had never found the source.
Clara turned the page.
A surveillance photograph showed Eli meeting someone in a parking garage.
The date was two days before his death.
Roman recognized the other man.
Adrian DeCaro.
Clara looked at him.
“You said Adrian was in Chicago.”
“He was supposed to be.”
“Was he involved with my husband?”
“I didn’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if I knew your husband had evidence about stolen money, I wouldn’t have hired his widow to clean my house two years later without knowing who she was.”
That made brutal sense.
Clara hated it.
Roman opened another folder.
DANIEL VOSS.
Empty.
Every folder contained pages.
Daniel’s contained nothing.
Roman’s jaw tightened.
Someone had removed it.
Footsteps sounded outside.
Roman switched off the light.
He pulled Clara behind the door.
The footsteps descended.
Slowly.
One step.
Another.
Someone entered the wine cellar.
Roman waited.
The hidden room door moved.
A hand appeared.
Roman grabbed the wrist and dragged the intruder inside.
Clara gasped.
It was Adrian.
His expensive suit was dirty.
Blood marked his temple.
“Roman.”
Roman shoved him against the wall.
“Give me one reason.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Your cuff link was beside me.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because Daniel took it from my apartment.”
Roman tightened his grip.
Adrian looked at Clara.
Then at her file.
His face collapsed.
“Oh God.”
Clara stepped forward.
“You knew my husband.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He came to me because he discovered something.”
“What?”
Adrian looked at Roman.
“The money wasn’t being stolen from you.”
Roman frowned.
Adrian continued.
“It was being moved in your name.”
“By whom?”
Before Adrian could answer, the cellar lights died.
A metallic click came from the stairs.
Roman pushed Clara down.
A bullet shattered a bottle above them.
Glass rained across the floor.
Roman pulled Adrian behind the stone wall.
Clara covered her mouth.
Footsteps retreated upstairs.
Roman waited.
Then emergency lights flickered on.
Adrian was staring at the broken bottle.
Something had been taped beneath it.
A small black key.
Clara picked it up.
A paper tag hung from the ring.
May you like
On it was one handwritten word.
ELI.
