Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE
Elena was out of the townhouse before Dante finished the call.
His driver opened the car door, but she barely noticed. Her hands shook so badly that she had to try three times to unlock her phone. The hospital’s number rang unanswered. She called the nurses’ station, then the pediatric cardiac unit, then the emergency desk.
“Your brother is safe,” Dante said from the seat across from her. “My people are already there.”
“Your people?” Elena snapped. “You don’t get to put your people around my brother.”
“Someone attempted to move him under false authorization. I can either help you find out who, or I can leave you to handle it alone.”
“I don’t know you.”
“No,” he said. “But someone knows you well enough to imitate your signature.”
The car raced through the wet streets. Dante made two calls, each brief and quiet. He did not bark orders or threaten anyone. Somehow, that made Elena more nervous.
At the hospital, a security supervisor met them beside the elevators. Toby was still in his room, pale but awake, his small hand curled around a stuffed dinosaur. A nurse stood beside his bed. Two men in dark suits waited outside the door.
Elena rushed to Toby. “I’m here, sweetheart.”
“You’re late,” he whispered, trying to smile.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You look like you ran all the way from Queens.”
“I practically did.”
She kissed his forehead and checked the monitor herself, though she barely understood its numbers. Only when Toby relaxed back against his pillow did she turn on the security supervisor.
“Who tried to move him?”
“A man presented a transfer order and a copy of your identification,” the supervisor explained. “He claimed you had arranged a private surgical team. Our system flagged the request because the receiving facility couldn’t be verified.”
“Did you see him?”
“We have him on camera. He left before we could detain him.”
Dante watched the footage on a tablet. The man wore a surgical mask and a delivery jacket. He kept his head angled away from the cameras, but his left hand was visible as he signed the paperwork.
A narrow gold ring circled his little finger. Its face bore a tiny black compass.
Dante’s expression hardened.
“You recognize him,” Elena said.
“I recognize the ring.”
“Who wears it?”
“People who work for my uncle, Raffaele.”
Elena stared at him. “Your own family tried to take my brother?”
“I said the ring belongs to people who work for him. I haven’t said Raffaele ordered this.”
“But you’re already making excuses.”
Dante accepted the accusation without argument. “You’re right to ask questions.”
A doctor arrived with a clipboard. Toby’s surgery could not be moved without risking his condition, and the team wanted the forged paperwork documented before the next morning. Elena signed a statement with a hand that had finally stopped trembling.
When the doctor left, Toby looked from Elena to Dante.
“Is he your boss?” he asked.
“No,” Elena answered.
Dante pulled a chair toward the bed. “Definitely not.”
“Are you a cop?”
“No.”
“Are you a bad guy?”
Elena held her breath. Dante looked at the boy for a long moment.
“I’ve done things I’m not proud of,” he said. “And I’m trying to stop some of them from happening again.”
Toby considered this. “That sounds like what my teacher says when someone breaks a window.”
Despite herself, Elena laughed. The sound surprised her. Dante’s eyes lifted to her face, and the room briefly felt less dangerous.
Then a nurse handed Elena a sealed envelope that had been left at the reception desk. Her name was written on it in her mother’s handwriting.
Inside was a single photograph and a note.
*If Dante Vancel ever finds you, do not let him take you to the house by the river. Ask him what happened on October 14. Ask him why he came too late.*
Elena read it twice.
“What happened on October 14?” she asked.
Dante had gone very still.
“That was the night your mother disappeared,” he said.
“Then tell me the truth.”
Before he could answer, a crash sounded from the corridor. The lights flickered. One of the guards shouted that the stairwell door had been forced open.
Dante stepped between Elena and Toby’s bed, his entire manner changing in an instant.
“Get the boy behind the nurses’ station,” he ordered. “Now.”
Elena clutched the note. From the corridor came the unmistakable sound of running footsteps—and then a voice she recognized from the Velvet Lounge.
May you like
Greg, her manager, called her name.
“Miss Vance,” he shouted. “You need to come with me. I know what happened to your mother.”
