Chapter 1 - The Table Nobody Wanted
Tessa Whitlock raised both hands in front of the feared man and signed, “My name is Tessa.”
Salvatore Marquetti looked past her at the silver tray.
A folded white card had been tucked beneath his plate.
Three words were written across it.
SHE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
This was no longer a joke.
Tessa did not see the card immediately.
She was still watching Salvatore’s face.
Until that moment, she had expected nothing more dangerous than humiliation.
Brett Callahan had made sure of that.
For almost a year, Brett had enjoyed finding small ways to remind Tessa where she stood at Bellamy’s. He gave the best tables to Carla. He scheduled Tessa for closing shifts after doubles. He corrected her in front of customers for mistakes she had not made and smiled afterward as though cruelty became harmless when delivered politely.
Tonight was supposed to be another game.
Table Seven.
Salvatore Marquetti.
The customer no server wanted.
Tessa knew the rumors. Everyone did.
Men supposedly disappeared after crossing him. Businesses changed ownership after meetings with him. Police detectives sometimes sat outside buildings connected to his companies and drove away without entering.
But the rumor Bellamy’s employees loved most was simpler.
Salvatore was deaf.
Some employees claimed he only pretended.
Others believed he refused to communicate because frightening people amused him.
Brett believed sending Tessa into his private dining room would produce entertainment.
Instead, she had signed to him.
And Salvatore had answered.
You sign?
My brother is hard of hearing, Tessa replied with her hands. I learned for him.
Something shifted behind Salvatore’s eyes.
Most people shout, he signed.
Tessa smiled.
I try not to shout at customers unless they deserve it.
The corner of his mouth moved.
Outside the partially open service door, Brett’s grin disappeared.
“What the hell is she doing?” he whispered.
Carla stared through the gap. “Is that sign language?”
Owen nodded slowly.
Nobody laughed.
Inside, Salvatore finally lowered his gaze.
That was when he noticed the card beneath his plate.
His expression changed.
Tessa caught it immediately.
“What is it?”
Salvatore pulled the card free.
She saw the message.
SHE KNOWS TOO MUCH.
Tessa’s stomach tightened.
“Is that yours?”
He shook his head.
Then he looked toward the door.
His earlier warmth vanished.
Salvatore was frightening when silent, Tessa realized, but not because silence itself was frightening.
It was because he paid attention.
He noticed everything.
The position of the door.
The shadows behind the frosted glass.
The reflection of someone moving in the polished wine cooler.
The slight tremble in Tessa’s fingers.
Who brought this plate? he signed.
Tessa hesitated.
She had carried it in, but it had already been prepared on the service tray.
I did.
His eyes hardened.
Tessa understood the implication.
I didn’t put that there.
I know.
The certainty surprised her.
How?
Salvatore glanced at her hands.
Because you didn’t know it was there.
Tessa swallowed.
Outside, someone moved away from the door.
Salvatore saw the shadow.
He stood.
At six-foot-three, dressed entirely in black, he seemed to fill the room. Tessa instinctively stepped backward.
His expression changed when he noticed.
Not softer exactly.
Careful.
He signed, I won’t hurt you.
“I didn’t think you would.”
That was only partly true.
He studied her.
Then he picked up the card using his napkin instead of his bare fingers.
That detail frightened her more than anything else.
“You think it matters?”
Yes.
“Why?”
Salvatore looked toward the door again.
Because the message isn’t for me.
Tessa stared at him.
He turned the card around.
On the back was another sentence.
THE GIRL’S BROTHER IS NEXT.
The blood drained from Tessa’s face.
Danny.
She grabbed her phone.
Three missed calls.
All from her younger brother.
Her fingers suddenly felt numb.
She called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
“Tessa?”
She turned.
Brett stood in the doorway.
His face had lost its amusement.
“What’s taking so long?”
Tessa held up the card.
“Who touched this table?”
Brett blinked.
“What?”
“Before I came in. Who set this table?”
“How would I know?”
“You’re the floor manager.”
His eyes moved toward Salvatore.
For half a second, something appeared in Brett’s face.
Recognition.
Then it disappeared.
Salvatore saw it too.
He moved around the table.
Brett stepped back.
“Hey, man, whatever this is—”
Salvatore stopped directly in front of him.
He did not speak.
He did not need to.
Brett’s mouth closed.
Tessa hurried past them and called Danny again.
This time someone answered.
“Danny?”
Silence.
She froze.
Danny could speak. He simply preferred texting or signing when he was tired.
“Danny?”
A sound came through the phone.
Breathing.
Then the call ended.
Tessa stared at the screen.
A text arrived immediately.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
She opened it.
There was a photograph.
Danny was standing outside his trade school carrying his backpack.
The picture had been taken less than an hour earlier.
Beneath it was one sentence.
STOP TALKING TO MARQUETTI.
Tessa looked up.
Salvatore was watching her.
She showed him the screen.
For the first time that evening, genuine fear entered his eyes.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for her.
He took out his phone and typed rapidly.
Within seconds, two men entered through the private entrance.
They were dressed like businessmen, but neither moved like one.
Salvatore showed them Danny’s photograph.
One man immediately left.
Tessa stepped toward Salvatore.
“You know who did this.”
He looked at her.
She signed deliberately.
Tell me.
His jaw tightened.
Not here.
“Why not?”
Because someone inside this restaurant is watching us.
Tessa glanced toward Brett.
He was gone.
So was Carla.
The service hallway beyond the door stood empty.
Salvatore picked up the threatening card.
Then another sound came from Tessa’s phone.
A new message.
This one was from Danny.
She opened it so quickly she nearly dropped the phone.
Tess, don’t come home.
Her breath stopped.
Another message appeared.
There’s a man inside our apartment.
Then a third.
Tessa stared at the screen.
It contained only two words.
He knows.
She typed back.
WHO?
The typing indicator appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then Danny sent a photograph.
Tessa opened it.
The image showed a man standing inside her apartment.
Only his back was visible.
He wore a black Bellamy’s vest.
Tessa slowly lifted her eyes toward the restaurant hallway.
At the far end, the employees-only door began to open.
May you like
Someone was coming through.
And he was wearing Brett Callahan’s name tag.
