Chapter 4 - The Woman Vincent Couldn’t Lose
Vincent’s mother had disappeared from a protected house outside Annapolis.
No broken locks.
No blood.
No struggle.
Which meant she had either trusted whoever took her—or gone willingly.
Her name was Sofia Moretti.
Elena expected the mother of Baltimore’s most feared man to resemble him.
She didn’t.
In photographs, Sofia was small, elegant, silver-haired, and smiling.
Vincent stood inside her empty bedroom staring at a half-finished cup of tea.
Elena remained in the doorway.
“You can go,” he said.
“So can you.”
“This isn’t your problem.”
“My father is part of this.”
Vincent turned.
“That doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”
“No. It means somebody thinks our families belong to the same secret.”
Vincent looked exhausted for the first time.
Not weak.
Human.
Elena noticed a framed photograph beside the bed.
A younger Vincent stood between his parents.
He looked perhaps eighteen.
Happy.
“What happened to your father?”
Vincent followed her gaze.
“Murdered.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t do it.”
She almost smiled.
Then Vincent’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“Bring the Marlowe ledger to Pier Nine tonight.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Let me speak to my mother.”
Sofia’s voice came through.
“Vincent?”
He closed his eyes for half a second.
“Ma.”
“I’m fine.”
Then she said something strange.
“Remember your father hated red boats.”
The connection ended.
Marco looked confused.
Vincent didn’t.
“What does that mean?” Elena asked.
“My father loved red boats.”
“So she lied deliberately.”
“She gave me a warning.”
“About what?”
Vincent looked toward the window.
“Pier Nine is a trap.”
Elena folded her arms.
“You seem to collect those.”
His eyes met hers.
This time, he actually smiled.
Briefly.
It changed his entire face.
Elena hated noticing.
They didn’t go to Pier Nine.
Instead, they traced an old financial record from locker 317.
It led to a shell company called Chesapeake Meridian.
The registered accountant was Paul Henley.
Elena felt sick.
Paul had given her a job after her father died.
He had attended the funeral.
He had hugged Caleb.
He had brought lasagna to their apartment.
“He was watching us,” she whispered.
Vincent stood beside her.
“Probably.”
“For sixteen months?”
“Possibly longer.”
“Why?”
“Because your father hid something Paul never found.”
“The ledger.”
Vincent nodded.
“But it wasn’t in locker 317.”
Elena thought about her father.
His tools.
His truck.
His old belongings packed into boxes.
Then she remembered.
“The clock.”
Vincent frowned.
“What clock?”
“My father had an old ship’s clock. Brass casing. He made me promise never to sell it.”
They drove to Elena’s apartment.
The door was already open.
Vincent drew his weapon.
The living room had been destroyed.
Cushions ripped.
Cabinets emptied.
Photographs smashed.
Elena rushed toward her father’s storage box.
Empty.
“No.”
She searched frantically.
“The clock’s gone.”
Vincent inspected the broken window.
“Who knew about it?”
“Caleb.”
“Anyone else?”
Elena stopped.
“Paul.”
Vincent’s phone buzzed.
A video.
Sofia sat tied to a chair.
Beside her stood Paul Henley.
Elena felt something inside her collapse.
Paul looked directly into the camera.
“Hello, Elena.”
Her hands began trembling.
“I’m sorry about your apartment. Thomas was always too clever for his own good.”
Elena whispered, “You bastard.”
Paul continued.
“The ledger is inside the clock. Your father knew exactly what I was building. Names, payments, politicians, judges, customs officers. Twenty years of insurance.”
Vincent’s voice became ice.
“What does he want?”
Paul answered as though he could hear him.
“And Vincent, I know you’re watching. Bring yourself to Pier Nine at midnight.”
The camera moved.
A second prisoner appeared.
Caleb.
Elena screamed his name.
Paul smiled.
“Now I have something both of you love.”
The video ended.
Elena grabbed her coat.
Vincent blocked her.
“No.”
“He has Caleb.”
“And he wants you emotional.”
“I am emotional!”
“I know.”
“Then move.”
Vincent didn’t.
Elena shoved him.
Nothing.
She hit his chest.
Still nothing.
Then all the terror she had held back broke loose.
“He’s all I have left.”
Vincent caught her wrists gently.
“No.”
She looked up.
“You have yourself.”
Something in his voice stopped her.
“And tonight,” Vincent continued, “you have me.”
Neither moved.
The room became strangely quiet.
Then Marco entered.
“Boss. We found the clock.”
Elena turned.
“How?”
“Paul didn’t take it.”
Marco held up a photograph sent by one of Vincent’s men.
The brass ship’s clock sat inside Caleb’s hospital locker.
Her brother had hidden it.
Vincent looked at Elena.
“Your brother is smarter than Paul thinks.”
She wiped her eyes.
“So what now?”
Vincent took the clock.
“Now we give Paul exactly what he asked for.”
Elena stared.
“You’re going to surrender?”
“No.”
May you like
A cold smile appeared.
“I’m going to let him believe I did.”
