Chapter 8 - VINCENT MORETTI
Midnight came with rain.
Of course it did.
It felt as if every terrible thing in my life now happened under Chicago rain.
Detective Santos refused to hand over the original ledgers.
Adrian’s attorney got him released after investigators confirmed the potassium vial had been planted.
By 11:30 p.m., he stood beside me in an unmarked police command van.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Santos said to him.
“My daughter was targeted.”
“This operation is not yours.”
“My mother was murdered by the same man who has Lucia.”
Santos stared at him.
“That still doesn’t make you law enforcement.”
“No.”
Adrian looked toward me.
“It makes me invested.”
I held a decoy case containing photocopies.
A tracker had been sewn inside.
The meeting point was an abandoned railway depot.
Santos wanted me wired.
Adrian hated the idea.
I did it anyway.
At 11:58, I stepped from the car.
Alone.
At least that was how it looked.
“Lucia!”
My voice echoed through the depot.
A light came on.
Lucia sat in a chair fifty feet away.
Her hands were tied in front of her.
Alive.
“Isa!”
I nearly ran to her.
A man stepped from behind a pillar.
Silver hair.
Expensive black coat.
Scar above the eyebrow.
Vincent Moretti looked like an older version of Dante.
He smiled.
“Elena’s daughter.”
“My name is Isabella.”
“I know exactly who you are.”
“Let Lucia go.”
“The ledgers.”
“Her first.”
He laughed.
“You sound like Daniel.”
My stomach turned.
“You knew him well?”
“He was my brother.”
“And you betrayed him.”
His smile disappeared.
“You know nothing.”
“I heard his recording.”
That landed.
Vincent’s face hardened.
“What recording?”
“He knew you were an informant.”
“He misunderstood.”
“He said you sold people out to federal agents, then warned them before raids.”
Vincent approached slowly.
“Your father was idealistic.”
“My father was murdered.”
“By your mother.”
I swallowed.
He smiled again.
“So Elena finally admitted it.”
“You spent twenty-eight years blaming the wrong family.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“Enzo created the situation that killed Daniel.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“To me it is.”
“Then why Sofia?”
His expression changed.
“She became curious.”
“She discovered you were alive.”
“Yes.”
“And you killed her.”
Vincent shrugged.
The casual gesture made my skin crawl.
“She had a child.”
“So?”
“She was Emma’s mother.”
“That made her careless.”
My fists tightened.
“Karen said Dante threatened her.”
“Dante did many things because I told him they were necessary.”
“Does he know you killed Sofia?”
Vincent smiled.
“No.”
There it was.
Dante had been raised inside a lie.
Used the same way Karen had been used.
Used the same way I had been used.
“Where is Dante?”
Vincent’s eyes flickered.
“Nearby.”
“Why isn’t he standing beside you?”
No answer.
“He heard what I said about Daniel.”
Vincent moved closer.
“You talk too much.”
“And you’re losing him.”
He grabbed my arm.
“Case.”
“Lucia.”
Vincent looked toward my sister.
“Untie her.”
A masked man obeyed.
Lucia stood.
“Walk.”
She started toward me.
Ten feet.
Twenty.
Then a gunshot exploded.
Vincent’s masked guard collapsed.
Lucia screamed.
Dante stepped from the darkness holding a pistol.
“Dad.”
Vincent stared at him.
Everything stopped.
“Dante.”
“Did you kill Sofia?”
Vincent’s expression became almost fatherly.
“Son, not now.”
“Did you?”
“Put the gun down.”
“You told me Adrian killed Uncle Daniel.”
“Enzo caused his death.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“I did what was necessary.”
Dante looked shattered.
“You told me we were avenging him.”
“We are.”
“You made me threaten a child.”
“You did what had to be done.”
“You told me Emma would never be hurt.”
“She survived.”
Dante’s voice broke.
“She almost froze to death.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Do not become weak now.”
That word changed something.
Weak.
I had heard men like Vincent use it before.
Weak meant compassionate.
Weak meant human.
Dante lowered the gun slightly.
Then Vincent pulled his own.
Adrian appeared from behind a freight car.
“Drop it.”
Vincent smiled.
“Adrian.”
Adrian’s gun was aimed at his chest.
“My mother.”
Vincent laughed softly.
“Caterina?”
“You killed her.”
“She was already dying.”
Adrian’s face changed.
“Cancer would have taken her.”
“So you decided to help?”
“She overheard things she shouldn’t.”
Adrian’s finger tightened on the trigger.
I stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Isabella.”
“If you shoot him, he becomes another secret buried by your family.”
Vincent smiled.
“She’s smart.”
“Shut up.”
I looked at Adrian.
“Let Santos arrest him.”
Vincent suddenly grabbed Lucia.
His gun pressed against her ribs.
Everything happened at once.
“Back!”
I froze.
Lucia’s face went white.
“Drop your weapons,” Vincent ordered.
Dante lowered his first.
Adrian didn’t.
“Adrian,” I whispered.
He slowly placed his weapon on the ground.
Vincent dragged Lucia backward.
“Case.”
I shoved it toward him.
He kicked it open.
Photocopies.
His face twisted.
“You stupid—”
Police lights exploded outside.
Santos shouted through a loudspeaker.
“VINCENT MORETTI! DROP THE WEAPON!”
Vincent pulled Lucia toward a side exit.
I ran.
“Take me!”
He stopped.
“What?”
“You need Daniel’s records. You need me to access anything connected to him.”
“Isa, no!” Lucia cried.
I kept walking.
“Let her go.”
Vincent stared.
I reached him.
He shoved Lucia away and grabbed me instead.
Exactly what I wanted.
Lucia ran toward Adrian.
Vincent dragged me through the exit.
Rain hit my face.
A car waited.
He shoved me inside.
We accelerated before police could block the road.
My heart pounded.
I had no weapon.
No plan beyond getting Lucia free.
Vincent ripped the wire from beneath my shirt.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find this?”
He crushed it beneath his shoe.
“Where are we going?”
“To see your mother.”
My blood chilled.
“Why?”
“Because Elena owes me twenty-eight years.”
We drove to an old house near Lake Michigan.
Elena was not there.
Instead, the house contained photographs.
My childhood.
Lucia’s childhood.
School pictures.
Graduation.
My first nursing-home job.
Vincent had watched us for years.
“You’re sick.”
“I was careful.”
“You stalked children.”
“I protected an investment.”
“What investment?”
“You.”
He opened a drawer.
Inside was another photograph.
Daniel holding me as a newborn.
Beside him stood Vincent.
On the back Daniel had written:
If anything happens to me, protect Isabella.
I looked up.
Vincent’s face was different now.
“He trusted you.”
“He did.”
“And you turned me into bait.”
His eyes hardened.
“Your father chose strangers over family.”
“No. He chose truth over criminals.”
Vincent slapped the table.
“You know nothing about family!”
A door opened behind us.
Dante stood there.
Vincent sighed.
“You always were sentimental.”
Dante’s gun shook.
“Let her go.”
“She’s the reason all of this can still be fixed.”
“No.”
“You want to throw away everything?”
“You killed Aunt Caterina.”
“Yes.”
“You killed Sofia.”
Vincent’s silence answered.
Dante swallowed hard.
“And you tried to kill Lucia.”
“She was leverage.”
Dante’s eyes filled.
“You made me become you.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“I made you strong.”
Dante lowered his gun.
For one terrible second, I thought he had surrendered.
Then he said:
“No.”
Police sirens approached.
Vincent spun toward the window.
Dante grabbed me and shoved me behind a wall.
A gun fired.
Dante jerked backward.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
“Dante!”
Vincent aimed again.
Adrian crashed through the rear door.
He hit Vincent hard enough to send the gun across the floor.
The two men went down.
Santos entered seconds later.
“POLICE!”
Vincent reached for the weapon.
Santos fired once.
Vincent collapsed.
Alive.
Wounded.
Still conscious.
Handcuffs clicked around his wrists.
Adrian stood over him.
Vincent laughed weakly.
“You think this ends with me?”
Adrian’s face went cold.
“Yes.”
Vincent looked past him.
At me.
“No.”
His smile returned.
“Daniel’s ledger has one final name.”
My stomach tightened.
“What name?”
Vincent coughed.
“The person who ordered Elena’s death thirteen years ago.”
“My mother survived.”
“I know.”
“Who ordered it?”
Santos pulled Vincent upright.
He leaned close enough that only I could hear.
“It wasn’t me.”
Then he whispered the name.
I stopped breathing.
May you like
Because the person he named had been standing beside us almost from the beginning.
Detective Maria Santos.
