Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ENEMY
We reached Victor's house just before dawn.
Police lights painted the wet street red and blue.
The front windows were blackened.
The living room had burned badly.
But the fire department had contained the damage.
Dante stood beside the police tape.
He said nothing.
I watched him stare at the house.
“You think he's dead.”
“I don't know.”
“But you believe he knew about me.”
“Yes.”
“And he protected me.”
“I believe so.”
Bell approached.
“We found no body.”
Dante's shoulders lowered slightly.
“Anything else?”
Bell handed him a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a silver watch.
The same scratched glass.
Dante looked at it.
“His?”
“No.”
Bell shook his head.
“It was found on the kitchen floor.”
Dante stared.
“It belonged to my father.”
I felt a chill.
“Then someone wanted you to know they were here.”
Bell nodded.
“Exactly.”
We entered the house.
The smell of smoke was heavy.
A photograph lay on the floor.
Dante picked it up.
It showed Victor as a teenager.
Beside him stood Dante's father.
And behind them was a young Isabella.
On the back was a date.
The same week Isabella disappeared.
Dante turned to his sister.
“You knew Victor.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you wouldn't have believed me.”
“Try me.”
She looked at him.
“You hated him.”
Dante said nothing.
“You blamed Victor for the night I disappeared.”
“I was seventeen.”
“You were angry.”
“I thought he betrayed us.”
“He did.”
Dante's eyes hardened.
Isabella continued.
“But not the way you thought.”
She explained.
Victor had been ordered to take Isabella to the train station.
Instead, he helped her escape.
He gave her money.
A coat.
And the brass key to Dante's old locker.
Then he returned to their father and lied.
Their father believed Isabella was dead.
Victor spent the next twenty-two years working for Dante.
Not because he was loyal to crime.
Because he was trying to keep the secret buried.
“To protect me?” I asked.
“To protect you from the people who wanted your father's ledger.”
Dante looked at the burned house.
“Where is he?”
A voice answered from behind us.
“Probably somewhere safe.”
Everyone turned.
Victor stood in the doorway.
His face was bruised.
One sleeve was burned.
But he was alive.
Dante walked toward him.
“You've got five seconds.”
Victor smiled weakly.
“Still impatient.”
Dante grabbed his coat.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my daughter was alive.”
Victor looked at me.
“I knew the child survived.”
“Not who she became?”
“No.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Victor's expression changed.
“Because every person who knew the whole story eventually became a target.”
Dante released him.
“Who attacked Harper?”
Victor looked toward Isabella.
Then at me.
“Your father's old partners.”
“But they're dead.”
“Some are.”
He pulled a folded paper from inside his jacket.
“Some changed names.”
Bell opened it.
A list.
Six names.
Two were still active businessmen.
One was a retired judge.
One was a former police commander.
And the last name made Bell go silent.
“That's impossible.”
Dante looked.
“What?”
Bell pointed.
“Your mother.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Her name was on the list.
But beside it was one word.
WITNESS.
Dante looked at me.
“Your mother wasn't part of the organization.”
Victor shook his head.
“She was a witness against them.”
“To what?”
“The ledger.”
I stared.
“She knew where it was?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Victor looked at me.
“She hid it inside the one place no one would search.”
My necklace felt suddenly heavy.
“The pendant?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Your mother's paintings.”
I remembered them.
Boxes in the attic.
Paintings she had never allowed anyone to touch.
Dante looked at Bell.
“We need to go.”
Victor stopped him.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because someone is waiting for you to search the house.”
“Whose house?”
Victor looked at me.
May you like
“Your mother's.”
My blood went cold.
