Chapter 2 - THE NIGHT ALESSANDRA DIDN’T DRIVE AWAY
Police arrived at 10:26 p.m.
By then, Victor had stopped pretending he was insulted.
He wanted an attorney.
Marco wanted immunity.
Thomas looked like a man waiting to be sentenced by God.
And Uncle Dominic had not moved from his chair.
Detective Lena Ortiz took control of my office.
“Mr. Moretti, nobody watches the tape again until digital forensics makes a copy.”
I stared at the paused image of my sister lying on the corridor floor.
“Fine.”
Ortiz looked at me.
“That includes you.”
“I said fine.”
She held my gaze.
Most people around me backed down eventually.
Ortiz didn’t.
I respected her immediately.
They separated everyone.
I sat in the library with Elena.
Sophie had fallen asleep in her mother’s lap.
“Elena.”
She looked at me.
“Why did Alessandra trust you?”
Her eyes filled.
“She was kind to me.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
She looked toward Sophie.
“She knew I was pregnant.”
I frowned.
“Sophie is four.”
“Yes.”
“You weren’t pregnant eight years ago.”
Elena swallowed.
“Not with Sophie.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“I lost the baby.”
I said nothing.
“She sat with me at the hospital.”
Alessandra.
Of course.
“She paid the bill?”
“Yes.”
That sounded like her too.
“She told me something that day.”
“What?”
“That rich families survive by deciding which truths are too expensive to admit.”
I stared.
“Did she say what truth?”
“Not then.”
Elena rocked Sophie gently.
“A week before she died, she asked whether I knew how to use the security recorder.”
“What recorder?”
“The backup system.”
I went still.
“What backup system?”
Elena looked surprised.
“The old analog one.”
I stared.
“Thomas said every camera ran through the digital security system.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Mr. William installed an analog backup years before.”
My father.
He trusted technology even less than he trusted people.
“Where?”
“Maintenance basement.”
That was why the tape existed.
Thomas had wiped the digital records.
Someone forgot the old system.
I asked:
“Did Alessandra know?”
“Yes.”
“Did she make the cassette herself?”
“I think so.”
“Why give it to you before anything happened?”
“She said she had copied several nights already.”
My pulse changed.
“Several?”
Elena nodded.
“This was only one tape.”
There were more.
Detective Ortiz came in.
“Elena Bellini?”
“Yes?”
“I need your statement.”
Elena stood.
Sophie woke.
“No.”
She clung to her mother.
I looked at Ortiz.
“Interview her here.”
Ortiz hesitated.
Then nodded.
Elena told the story.
Alessandra had approached her the afternoon of October 12.
She looked frightened.
She carried three tapes.
Not one.
Three.
Elena was supposed to hide them separately.
“One behind the boiler room wall.”
“One in the gardening shed.”
“And the third?”
Elena looked ashamed.
“I gave it to Victor.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“He found me after the funeral.”
She explained.
Victor told her I was emotionally unstable.
That I had attacked a reporter.
That revealing conspiracy theories about Alessandra could destroy me.
Then he offered money.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
She looked down.
“He threatened my husband.”
I knew Elena had been widowed.
“He died six years ago.”
“Yes.”
“What did Victor threaten?”
“Immigration trouble.”
Her husband had entered the country illegally before later gaining status.
Victor had access to people who could make trouble.
“I gave him the tape.”
“Which one?”
“The gardening shed.”
My chest tightened.
“One still exists behind the boiler?”
“I don’t know.”
Ortiz immediately sent officers downstairs.
Ten minutes later, they returned.
Nothing.
The hiding place had been opened years ago.
Someone had found it.
We were left with the tape Sophie delivered.
The tape Elena had hidden somewhere else?
I looked at her.
“Where was this one?”
She smiled faintly.
“Sophie found it.”
“What?”
“In my room.”
Elena had hidden it inside an old suitcase.
Sophie had opened it looking for a costume.
Then brought the tape to her mother.
“That’s why you gave it to her tonight.”
Elena nodded.
“I was afraid if I carried it, someone would stop me again.”
A four-year-old had succeeded where adults failed.
Ortiz received a call.
She stepped aside.
Then returned.
“We located the old case file.”
“And?”
“Alessandra’s blood alcohol level was point-one-two.”
I stared.
Marco said she wasn’t drunk.
Ortiz continued.
“But the sample chain of custody has irregularities.”
“What kind?”
“The blood vial was logged at 2:18 a.m.”
“So?”
“The body wasn’t recovered until 6:40.”
Everything stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes.”
Unless the sample belonged to someone else.
Or someone prepared it before Alessandra died.
Ortiz continued.
“There’s more.”
The medical examiner listed no sedatives.
But the toxicology lab’s internal archive showed a canceled test for benzodiazepines.
“Who canceled it?”
“The request came from the Moretti family legal office.”
I knew exactly who had controlled that office.
Uncle Dominic.
I stood.
Ortiz raised a hand.
“Stay here.”
“That man sat at my table.”
“And he is being questioned.”
“My sister died.”
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You know a case.”
My voice dropped.
“I buried her.”
Ortiz didn’t react defensively.
“Then help me build something that survives court.”
That stopped me.
She was right.
Rage could destroy evidence faster than any accomplice.
I sat.
Across the hall, Marco finally agreed to talk.
Ortiz let me observe from behind glass.
Marco looked exhausted.
“Alessandra found financial records.”
“What records?” Ortiz asked.
“Moretti Maritime.”
My family shipping company.
“She thought someone was using our vessels for undeclared cargo.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“Cash.”
Money laundering.
“How much?”
“Hundreds of millions.”
Ortiz asked:
“Who?”
Marco looked toward the mirrored glass.
At me.
Then answered:
“Dominic.”
My uncle.
No surprise now.
“And Victor?”
“He handled offshore accounts.”
“Thomas?”
“He altered estate security logs.”
“What was your role?”
Marco started crying.
“I followed Alessandra.”
“Why?”
“Dominic told me she was stealing company records.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“What happened October 12?”
Marco explained.
Alessandra confronted Dominic at dinner.
Quietly.
She threatened to go to Luca.
Dominic asked for time.
Victor offered her wine.
Thomas poured it.
Marco thought it was only wine.
Twenty minutes later, Alessandra couldn’t stand.
“What happened then?”
“Dominic said we had to get her out before Luca came home.”
My stomach twisted.
I had been at a charity event in Manhattan.
“Why?”
“He said Luca would call police.”
Correct.
“So what did you do?”
Marco stared at the table.
“We carried her to the garage.”
Alive.
My sister was alive.
“And the car?”
“Thomas drove.”
I stared.
“What?”
Ortiz leaned forward.
“Thomas drove Alessandra’s car?”
Marco nodded.
“And Alessandra?”
“In the passenger seat.”
“Who followed?”
“Victor and Dominic.”
“Where?”
Marco started shaking.
“The old quarry road.”
That was where Alessandra’s car had been found.
Ortiz asked:
“What happened there?”
Marco covered his face.
“I didn’t go.”
“Why?”
“I panicked.”
He looked up.
“I went back to the estate.”
“Then how do you know she died?”
“I don’t.”
My heart stopped.
Ortiz froze.
“What?”
Marco whispered:
“I never saw her body.”
I stepped toward the glass.
Ortiz asked:
“But Luca buried her.”
Marco nodded.
“The casket was closed.”
My blood went cold.
The funeral home said accident trauma had made viewing impossible.
My uncle arranged everything.
Victor handled identification documents.
I stared through the glass.
“What are you saying?” Ortiz asked.
May you like
Marco looked directly at the mirror.
“I’m saying I don’t know if Alessandra was in that coffin.”
