Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN DEARI COULD NOT LOSE
The damaged flash drive became their only lead.
Kalista worked on it for two days.
Deari rarely left the house.
Neither mentioned why.
They told themselves it was security.
Leonardo knew better.
On the third evening, he watched Deari make Kalista tea and nearly choked.
“What?” Deari asked.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I have known you twenty-four years.”
“And?”
“I once saw you make your own coffee and assumed society was collapsing.”
Kalista smiled.
Deari ignored him.
The recovered data finally produced eleven seconds of audio.
Thomas’s voice.
“The person helping Long is someone Deari trusts because he believes blood makes betrayal impossible.”
Then static.
Kalista looked at Leonardo.
Leonardo looked at Deari.
“There aren’t many of us left.”
Deari’s family had once been large.
His father, Antonio, had three sons.
Deari was the eldest.
Leonardo was his younger brother.
The third, Gabriel, had died nine years earlier in a warehouse fire.
Their father died four years after that.
Kalista stared at the family tree Leonardo had drawn.
“Blood makes betrayal impossible.”
She circled Gabriel.
“What if Thomas wasn’t talking about Leonardo?”
Deari frowned.
“Gabriel is dead.”
“Did you see his body?”
Deari’s expression changed.
Leonardo answered.
“There wasn’t enough left to identify visually.”
“Dental records?”
“Confirmed.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
Deari stood.
“The family dentist.”
Kalista waited.
Deari looked at Leonardo.
“Dr. Mercer.”
Leonardo went pale.
“Mercer disappeared six months after Gabriel died.”
They pulled the old files.
The warehouse fire had killed three men.
Gabriel Castellano.
A security guard.
And an unidentified employee.
But Kalista noticed something.
“The unidentified body had no dental comparison.”
Deari stared at the report.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting someone wanted you to believe Gabriel died.”
Deari’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Valdemar Long spoke.
“I hear the dead have begun talking.”
Deari’s eyes hardened.
“What do you want?”
“The woman.”
“No.”
“Still?”
“Especially now.”
Valdemar laughed.
“You have always had one weakness, Deari.”
“I wasn’t aware we knew each other well enough for psychological analysis.”
“You mistake protecting people for controlling outcomes.”
Deari glanced toward Kalista.
Valdemar continued.
“Ask yourself why she reached your club.”
The call ended.
Kalista froze.
Deari looked at her.
“What?”
“He’s right.”
“About what?”
“I didn’t choose the Cobalt Room.”
Deari’s face changed.
Kalista remembered the night.
The alley.
The footsteps.
The streets she had taken.
“I thought I was escaping.”
She walked toward the map.
“But they were driving me.”
She traced her route.
Every turn had pushed her closer to Randolph Street.
“They wanted me to reach you.”
Leonardo frowned.
“Why?”
The answer came from outside.
A rifle cracked.
The window exploded.
Deari slammed Kalista to the floor.
A second shot struck the wall.
Leonardo killed the lights.
Deari dragged Kalista toward the hallway.
Then she gasped.
Blood covered Deari’s shirt.
“Deari.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shot.”
The bullet had grazed his shoulder, cutting deeply.
He refused to stop.
They reached the basement garage.
Leonardo drove while Kalista pressed gauze against Deari’s wound.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Her hands shook.
Deari looked at her.
“Kalista.”
“What?”
“I’m not dying.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. Aris complains too much. Death would be quieter.”
She stared at him.
Then, against every reasonable instinct, she laughed.
It became half a sob.
Deari touched her face.
The gesture was so gentle that she stopped breathing.
“I’m all right.”
Their eyes held.
Leonardo watched through the mirror and deliberately looked away.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at Deari.
“The shooter was captured.”
“Who?”
Leonardo swallowed.
“He says Gabriel hired him.”
Deari’s hand dropped from Kalista’s face.
For nine years, Deari Castellano had mourned his youngest brother.
May you like
Now he had to consider something far worse.
Gabriel might never have been dead.
