Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN DOMINIC THOUGHT HE KNEW
Dominic had spent forty-three years believing his mother hated Adrian Voss.
By sunset, he wasn't sure he knew her at all.
Grace sat across from him in the armored SUV as they raced north.
No one spoke.
The photograph lay between them.
Young Margaret.
Adrian Voss.
Hands intertwined.
Dominic picked it up again.
“How old was she?”
Grace asked.
“Twenty-eight.”
“Were your parents married?”
“Yes.”
Grace said nothing.
Dominic understood what she was thinking.
Affair.
Betrayal.
Possibly worse.
“My father worshipped her.”
“People can love each other and still keep terrible secrets.”
Dominic looked at Grace.
“Speaking from experience?”
“My father lied to me my whole life.”
“He was protecting you.”
“That doesn't make the lie disappear.”
Dominic looked out the window.
“You're defending him.”
“I'm trying to understand him.”
“There's a difference?”
“Yes.”
Dominic wished he understood that difference better.
Lake Geneva security footage showed Margaret leaving through a garden gate at 11:08 a.m.
Alone.
She met the missing guard near the boathouse.
Then both vanished beyond camera range.
No struggle.
No weapon.
No obvious threat.
Grace watched the footage three times.
“Pause.”
Marco stopped it.
“Go back.”
He rewound.
Margaret passed beneath the garden arch.
Grace pointed.
“Her left hand.”
Dominic leaned closer.
Margaret was making a small repeated movement.
Two fingers touching her wrist.
“What is that?”
Grace looked at Dominic.
“I don't know.”
Helen did.
She had joined them in the security room.
“It's a signal.”
Everyone turned.
Helen swallowed.
“Daniel taught me that.”
Dominic stared.
“What does it mean?”
Helen touched two fingers to her wrist.
“I'm being watched.”
Dominic was moving before she finished.
“She's being forced.”
“Not exactly,” Helen said.
He stopped.
“What?”
“There were different signals.”
Helen demonstrated another.
“Danger.”
Another.
“Follow.”
Then the wrist.
“This one means: do not react.”
Grace understood.
“Margaret knew cameras were watching.”
“Yes.”
Dominic turned to Marco.
“Missing guard?”
“Anthony Russo. Twelve years with us.”
“Family?”
“Wife. Two sons.”
“Bring them somewhere safe.”
Marco nodded.
Grace watched Dominic.
“You think someone threatened his family.”
“Yes.”
“Then Margaret may have gone to protect them.”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
“Or because she knows where Adrian Voss is.”
A search began across southern Wisconsin and northern Illinois.
No result.
At 8:43 p.m., Grace's phone rang.
Unknown number.
Dominic motioned for silence.
Grace answered.
“Hello?”
Margaret.
“Grace?”
She sounded calm.
Too calm.
“Margaret, where are you?”
“I need you to listen.”
Dominic moved closer.
Grace put the call on speaker.
Margaret continued.
“Dominic is there.”
It wasn't a question.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Dominic spoke.
“Mom, tell me where you are.”
“No.”
“Are you being held?”
A pause.
“Yes and no.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“That's not an answer.”
“It's the only one I can give.”
Grace heard a faint sound in the background.
Train.
Horn.
Then bells.
“Margaret,” Grace said, “are you near tracks?”
Silence.
Dominic looked at Marco.
Marco immediately started tracing.
Margaret whispered.
“Smart girl.”
Then another voice came over the phone.
Male.
Old.
“Hello, Dominic.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
The voice continued.
“You've grown into your father's face.”
Grace looked at him.
“Adrian?”
The man laughed softly.
“Daniel's daughter. Of course.”
Dominic grabbed the phone.
“If you hurt her—”
“Still impatient.”
“Where is my mother?”
“With me.”
“Why?”
“Because we have unfinished history.”
Grace could hear Margaret breathing.
Alive.
Calm.
Adrian continued.
“Bring Daniel's key.”
“We already opened the box.”
“Not that key.”
Everyone looked at Grace.
She frowned.
“There was only one.”
Adrian laughed again.
“Daniel always did enjoy hiding truth inside truth.”
Dominic's voice became deadly quiet.
“What do you want?”
“The second key.”
“We don't have it.”
“Then find it.”
The call ended.
Grace looked at her mother.
Helen had gone pale.
“What?”
Grace asked.
“I know what he means.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“What second key?”
Helen whispered.
“Grace's necklace.”
Grace touched her throat.
Empty.
She hadn't worn it since the hotel.
“My necklace?”
“The silver cross Dad gave me?”
Helen nodded.
“It wasn't a cross originally.”
Grace stared.
“What?”
“Daniel had it made around something.”
Grace remembered.
A small silver cross she'd worn since thirteen.
It was probably at her apartment.
Dominic called a guard.
Ten minutes later, the necklace arrived with Grace's recovered belongings.
Marco examined it.
“The center is thicker.”
He used a small tool.
The silver casing opened.
Inside was a tiny brass key.
Grace stared.
“My father put that around my neck when I was thirteen.”
Helen looked devastated.
“He thought no one would search a child.”
Dominic took a breath.
“What's it open?”
No one knew.
Then Margaret's old friend did.
Rosa Bellini had worked for the DeLuca family for almost fifty years.
When she saw the key, she started crying.
“Antonio's study.”
Dominic frowned.
“My father's old desk?”
“No.”
Rosa shook her head.
“The room beneath it.”
Dominic stared.
“There is no room beneath it.”
Rosa looked at him.
“That is what your father wanted everyone to believe.”
The DeLuca estate in Highland Park had been locked since Antonio's death.
They arrived after midnight.
Dominic led Grace through the dark study.
Old photographs covered the walls.
Antonio DeLuca looked astonishingly like his son.
Grace found herself wondering how many ghosts Dominic lived with.
Rosa pointed toward the desk.
“Keyhole beneath the right drawer.”
Dominic found it.
Grace inserted the hidden key.
Click.
A section of bookcase moved.
Behind it, stairs descended underground.
Marco turned on a flashlight.
“Stay behind me.”
The chamber smelled like dust and old paper.
Boxes lined the walls.
A steel cabinet stood at the center.
Dominic opened it.
Documents.
Ledgers.
Photographs.
Recordings.
Grace picked up a folder.
STERLING.
Inside were payments made to Charles Sterling.
Judges.
Police commanders.
City officials.
Dominic flipped through them.
“This could have destroyed half of Chicago.”
“That may be why people are killing for it,” Grace said.
Then she noticed a tape recorder.
One cassette was already inside.
Dominic pressed play.
Antonio's voice filled the room.
“If you're hearing this, then I am dead.”
Dominic froze.
The recording continued.
“There is one truth I could never face while alive.”
Grace looked at him.
Antonio spoke of Adrian.
Of betrayal.
Of believing false evidence.
Then Margaret.
Dominic's face slowly changed.
“My wife loved Adrian before she married me.”
Silence.
Dominic's eyes closed.
Antonio continued.
“I knew.”
Grace stared.
Antonio had known.
“He tried to leave Chicago because of her. I stopped him. Pride made enemies of men who had once been brothers.”
Dominic sank into a chair.
Grace said nothing.
The recording continued.
“The Sterlings exploited that weakness.”
Then came the sentence that shattered everything.
“Dominic is my son in every way that matters.”
Dominic's head snapped up.
Grace's stomach dropped.
Antonio's voice trembled through thirty years of silence.
“But blood may tell another story.”
Dominic stopped the tape.
No one moved.
Grace whispered.
“Dominic…”
He walked away.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The implication was unbearable.
Adrian Voss might be Dominic's biological father.
Then footsteps sounded upstairs.
Marco immediately drew his weapon.
“Company.”
Lights flashed through the windows.
Cars.
Many.
Dominic straightened.
Grace moved beside him.
“Who?”
Marco checked the security feed.
His expression hardened.
“Federal agents.”
“What?”
The front door shook.
A voice shouted.
“FEDERAL WARRANT!”
Dominic cursed.
Then Grace heard another sound.
Not upstairs.
Behind them.
A slow mechanical click.
A red light appeared inside the underground chamber.
Countdown.
00:59.
00:58.
00:57.
Grace stared.
“Dominic…”
Marco's face went white.
“Bomb.”
May you like
The steel door slammed shut behind them.
And locked.
