Chapter 2 - The Man Who Came for Her
Emma did not open the door.
Not immediately.
Her heartbeat seemed to move into her throat.
On the other side of the glass stood the father of the frightened girl on the couch.
And behind him stood the man Sofia had just connected to the silver bracelet.
“Emma?”
Vincent Moretti’s voice carried through the door.
Sofia whispered, “Daddy.”
Emma looked at the little girl.
“Do you trust your father?”
Sofia nodded without hesitation.
“Do you trust your uncle?”
Silence.
That frightened Emma more than any answer.
She turned back to the entrance.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Yes.”
“I’m opening the door.”
“Good.”
“But only you come inside.”
Tom made a strangled sound behind her.
Vincent’s expression did not change.
The men behind him did.
One shifted his weight.
Another looked toward Carlo.
Vincent never looked away from Emma.
“Open the door.”
“Do you agree?”
A long pause.
“Yes.”
Emma unlocked it.
Cold air rushed inside.
Vincent entered alone.
He was taller than Emma expected.
Dark hair swept back from his forehead.
Snow had collected on the shoulders of his charcoal overcoat.
His face looked composed until he saw Sofia.
Then something cracked.
Not dramatically.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes reddened.
He crossed the room in five long steps.
“Daddy.”
Sofia threw aside the blanket.
Vincent dropped to one knee.
She wrapped both arms around his neck.
For several seconds he did not speak.
He only held her.
Emma looked away.
She had spent enough years watching exhausted parents pick children up from restaurants to recognize what she was seeing.
Not a crime boss.
Not a dangerous man.
A father who had spent two days wondering whether his child was alive.
“Are you hurt?” Vincent asked.
“No.”
“Did anyone touch you?”
Sofia shook her head.
“Did anyone threaten you?”
“They yelled.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
He looked at Emma.
“Who found her?”
“I did.”
“Where?”
“Outside the employee entrance.”
“How long ago?”
“About forty minutes.”
His eyes moved over Emma’s uniform.
Her damp shoes.
Her frayed sleeve.
Then the blankets around Sofia.
“You treated her for exposure?”
“I warmed her slowly. No hot bath. Warm liquids. Dry clothes. Her breathing is normal, but she needs a doctor.”
Vincent looked surprised.
“You medical?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
“My mother was a nurse.”
He nodded.
“Thank you.”
Two words.
Nothing dramatic.
Yet Tom stared as if Vincent had just handed Emma a crown.
Emma folded her arms.
“There’s more.”
Vincent’s attention sharpened.
She showed him the bracelet.
The effect was immediate.
His eyes became empty.
Not confused.
Recognizing.
“Where did you get that?”
“Caught inside her coat.”
Vincent took it.
His thumb moved over the letters.
V.M.C.
He said nothing.
Emma glanced at the doorway.
Carlo Moretti stood outside with two other men.
His face was half hidden by reflected light on the glass.
“Does it belong to him?” Emma asked.
Vincent followed her gaze.
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
Emma noticed.
“So what do the initials mean?”
Vincent’s eyes returned to her.
“You’ve done enough.”
Emma almost laughed.
“Your daughter was kidnapped and showed up outside my workplace wearing evidence she says is connected to her uncle.”
Vincent stood.
The softness he had shown Sofia disappeared.
“This is not your concern.”
“It became my concern when she begged me not to let them find her.”
Vincent’s jaw flexed.
“Who did she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t assume.”
Emma stepped closer.
“I’m not assuming anything.”
That was a lie.
She was assuming quite a lot.
But she had learned from years of waiting tables that powerful men often revealed more when someone refused to act impressed by them.
Vincent studied her.
“You’re not afraid of me.”
“I’m a waitress with eighty-three dollars in the bank and a landlord threatening late fees. I don’t have enough energy left to be afraid of strangers.”
Tom stared at her in horror.
Vincent’s mouth almost moved.
Almost a smile.
It vanished before it formed.
Sofia tugged his sleeve.
“Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“Emma saved me.”
“I know.”
“She gave me her socks.”
Vincent looked down.
Emma suddenly wished the floor would open.
The child was wearing her only clean spare socks.
Vincent noticed.
Of course he did.
“I’ll replace them.”
Emma blinked.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I wasn’t making a joke.”
“Neither was I.”
Sofia smiled for the first time.
The tension shifted.
Then Carlo knocked on the glass.
Vincent turned.
The softness left his face again.
He walked toward the door.
Emma caught his sleeve.
Every man outside moved.
Vincent looked down at her hand.
Emma released him.
“Before he comes in,” she said, “you need to see this.”
She showed him the photograph.
Vincent took it.
His expression changed more than it had with the bracelet.
“Where did she get this?”
“Sofia had it.”
He flipped the photograph over.
His eyes landed on the initials.
V.M.C.
“What are they?” Emma asked.
Vincent looked at Sofia.
The girl was watching him.
“Nothing.”
Sofia shook her head.
“Daddy.”
Vincent closed his eyes briefly.
Emma knew that look.
Adults used it when deciding whether a child knew enough truth to become dangerous.
“Tell me,” she said.
Vincent lowered his voice.
“Vivian Moretti Carter.”
Emma’s chest tightened.
“Who is that?”
“My sister.”
“And?”
“Carlo’s wife.”
Emma looked toward the door.
Carlo was married to Vincent’s sister.
“Carter,” Emma repeated.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“Yes.”
“My last name is Carter.”
“I heard you.”
“That’s a common name.”
“It is.”
Emma did not like his tone.
“What happened to Vivian?”
Vincent stared at the photograph.
“She died eleven years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Sofia suddenly spoke.
“Uncle Carlo said she didn’t.”
Everyone turned.
Vincent crouched again.
“What did you say?”
Sofia’s small hands twisted in the blanket.
“When they had me in the cabin.”
Vincent became very still.
“Carlo was there?”
Sofia shook her head.
“No. The other man.”
“What other man?”
“The one with the cut.”
“Where?”
She touched her cheek.
Vincent looked toward one of his men outside.
The man had a scar.
Emma saw it too.
But Sofia immediately said, “Not him.”
Vincent exhaled.
“What did the man say?”
“He talked on the phone.”
“With who?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Sofia squeezed her eyes shut.
Emma sat beside her.
“You don’t have to remember all at once.”
Vincent looked at Emma.
She ignored him.
Sofia leaned against her.
“He said… he said the Moretti girl had what Vivian hid.”
Vincent’s face went gray.
Emma looked at the initials again.
“What did Vivian hide?”
Vincent stood.
“No more.”
“Vincent—”
He turned sharply.
It was the first time Emma had used his first name.
He seemed surprised.
“You need to leave this alone.”
“How exactly?”
“You go home.”
“After your daughter was kidnapped outside the same region where I work?”
“Yes.”
“And the bracelet has my last name on it?”
“Those initials are not about you.”
“Then prove it.”
Carlo knocked again.
This time harder.
Vincent unlocked the door.
Carlo entered.
He looked relieved.
“Sofia.”
The girl shrank behind Emma.
Vincent saw it.
So did everyone else.
Carlo stopped.
His expression changed.
“Sofia?”
She stared at the floor.
Carlo looked at Vincent.
“What happened?”
Vincent held up the bracelet.
Carlo’s face emptied.
Only for a second.
But Emma saw it.
Vincent did too.
“Where did you find that?”
Carlo asked.
Vincent’s voice became quiet.
“Why do you recognize it?”
Carlo looked at Sofia.
Then at Emma.
“I don’t.”
“You just asked where we found it.”
“I saw the initials.”
“What do they stand for?”
Carlo’s mouth tightened.
“You know.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Tom slowly backed toward the office.
Carlo looked around the lounge.
“This is not the place.”
“Then we’ll leave.”
Vincent reached for Sofia.
The girl clung to Emma.
Everyone froze.
“Sofia,” Vincent said gently.
“I want Emma.”
Vincent looked at Emma.
She shook her head.
“No.”
Sofia’s grip tightened.
“Please.”
Vincent considered something.
Then said, “You’re coming with us.”
Emma laughed once.
“No, I’m not.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“Then it’s definitely no.”
Carlo stepped forward.
“Vincent, we don’t need outsiders.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Interesting choice of word.”
Carlo stopped.
Vincent turned back to Emma.
“My daughter trusts you.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m getting into a black SUV with four men who make my manager look like he’s about to faint.”
Tom said, “I’m fine.”
No one believed him.
Vincent reached inside his coat.
Emma tensed.
He pulled out a business card.
Nothing on it except a name and telephone number.
“Call this.”
“Who is it?”
“Dr. Reynolds. Pediatric specialist. He’s at my house now.”
“You have a doctor waiting?”
“For two days.”
That silenced her.
Vincent looked at Sofia.
“My daughter needs medical attention. She refuses to leave without you.”
Emma looked at the little girl.
Sofia’s eyes had become heavy.
She was exhausted.
Possibly still hypothermic.
Emma hated every part of the decision.
“I ride with her.”
“Yes.”
“No guns near me.”
Carlo actually laughed.
Vincent did not.
“No visible weapons.”
“That was not what I said.”
“It’s what I can promise.”
Emma stared at him.
“Fantastic.”
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting in the rear of Vincent Moretti’s SUV with Sofia asleep against her shoulder.
Vincent sat across from them.
Snow moved past the windows.
No one spoke.
Emma watched the dark road.
Then Sofia shifted.
Something fell from inside her coat.
A tiny brass key.
Vincent reached for it.
Emma was faster.
She picked it up.
A number was stamped into the metal.
Vincent stared at it.
“Where did she get that?”
Emma turned the key over.
There was dried red paint on one side.
Vincent leaned closer.
His face changed.
“What?”
Emma asked.
He did not answer.
“What is 317?”
Vincent looked out the window.
Then he said, “A locker.”
“Where?”
No answer.
“Vincent.”
He looked at her.
“Union Station.”
Emma’s stomach tightened.
“And what’s in it?”
“I don’t know.”
The SUV slowed.
Vincent glanced toward the driver.
“Why are we stopping?”
The driver looked into the mirror.
“Roadblock.”
Vincent straightened.
There should not have been one.
A black vehicle sat sideways across the mountain road.
No police lights.
No markings.
No emergency crew.
Then Vincent’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Carlo.
Vincent answered.
“What?”
Emma watched his face.
Whatever Carlo said made all the warmth leave it.
Vincent slowly turned toward Sofia.
Then toward the brass key in Emma’s hand.
“Say that again.”
Silence.
Vincent ended the call.
“What happened?” Emma asked.
He looked at the blocked road ahead.
Then at her.
“Carlo says Sofia was never supposed to have that key.”
Headlights appeared behind them.
Another vehicle stopped.
The Moretti SUV was trapped.
Vincent reached beneath his coat.
Emma grabbed Sofia.
May you like
The driver whispered one sentence.
“They found us.”
