Chapter 2 - The Camera That Was Already There
Dante unfolded Lily’s drawing and placed it on the desk.
Julian glanced at it.
“A kid drew this?”
“Emma Harper’s daughter.”
Julian leaned closer.
The red mark beneath the figure’s chin was unmistakable.
Something changed in his expression.
It lasted less than a second.
For anyone else, it would have meant nothing.
Dante had survived because he noticed seconds like that.
“You recognize him?”
“No.”
Julian straightened.
Dante studied his oldest friend.
“You looked like you did.”
“I was trying to figure out why a five-year-old is drawing threatening men.”
“She says he visits Emma at the service entrance after dark.”
Julian’s mouth hardened.
“I’ll check the cameras.”
“No.”
That answer came quickly enough to surprise him.
Dante leaned back.
“I said install another camera.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever is visiting her may know where the existing cameras point.”
Julian nodded after a pause.
“I’ll handle it.”
Dante watched him leave.
At 10:18 that night, Dante went downstairs himself.
He told nobody.
The service corridor behind the kitchens was narrow and utilitarian, nothing like the polished marble and Italian wood upstairs. Deliveries entered through reinforced steel doors. Staff lockers lined one wall.
Dante found the existing camera immediately.
It faced the entrance.
He followed its cable into the maintenance cabinet.
Then he saw something strange.
A tiny green light blinked behind a ventilation grille.
Dante removed the grille.
There was already a second camera.
One he had never authorized.
He stared at it.
Someone had secretly been watching his service entrance from inside his own building.
Dante disconnected it.
Then he called Marco Bellini, one of only three security men who did not report directly to Julian.
“Come downstairs. Alone.”
Marco arrived four minutes later.
Dante showed him the device.
Marco’s face darkened.
“That isn’t ours.”
“I know.”
“Who installed it?”
“That’s what you’re going to find out.”
Dante pocketed the camera.
“Quietly.”
The next morning Emma dropped a breakfast tray when Dante entered the staff kitchen.
A cup shattered.
“I’m sorry.”
She immediately crouched.
Dante caught her wrist before she could pick up the broken porcelain.
“You’ll cut yourself.”
Emma froze.
He released her.
“Where’s Lily?”
“School.”
“Good.”
He closed the kitchen door.
Emma’s eyes moved toward it.
“Mr. Valenti—”
“Who comes to the service entrance?”
Nobody answered.
“Lily saw him.”
Her face drained.
Dante had seen fear countless times.
Men feared pain.
They feared prison.
They feared death.
This was different.
Emma feared consequences.
“Please don’t involve yourself.”
“You work in my home. Someone enters my building without permission and threatens you. I’m already involved.”
“He doesn’t threaten me.”
“Then why are your hands shaking?”
She tucked them behind her.
Dante stepped closer.
“What does he want?”
“I can handle it.”
“Can you?”
Her eyes flashed.
For the first time since he had hired her, Emma Harper looked angry.
“I handled my husband dying. I handled discovering that he left debts I knew nothing about. I handled losing our apartment. I handled raising Lily while working fourteen-hour days. So yes, Mr. Valenti. I can handle things.”
Dante let the silence settle.
Then he asked quietly, “Does he know where Lily sleeps?”
Emma’s anger vanished.
Dante hated being right.
“Tell me his name.”
She looked toward the floor.
“Victor Sloane.”
Dante knew the name.
Not personally.
Victor Sloane ran a private debt-recovery company in Queens. Officially, his business collected delinquent loans.
Unofficially, he purchased desperate people’s debts and turned them into leverage.
“What did your husband owe him?”
“Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did you learn about it?”
“After Michael died.”
“How?”
“Victor came to the funeral.”
That answer disturbed Dante more than he expected.
“He approached you at your husband’s funeral?”
“He waited until everyone left.”
Emma swallowed.
“He showed me documents with Michael’s signature. He said debt doesn’t disappear because somebody dies.”
“Legally, that depends on—”
“He wasn’t discussing the law.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
“What does he want now?”
“I’ve been paying him.”
“On a housekeeper’s salary?”
“I work other jobs.”
“How much?”
“Everything I can.”
“And that’s not enough.”
Emma looked away.
“No.”
“What happens if you stop?”
She did not answer.
Dante already knew.
Lily.
He walked toward the window.
Manhattan stretched beneath him, towers glittering in morning sunlight.
“What was Michael Harper’s occupation?”
Emma hesitated.
“Accountant.”
“For whom?”
“A shipping company.”
Dante turned.
“Which one?”
“Atlantic Meridian Logistics.”
For the first time in the conversation, Dante felt genuine alarm.
Atlantic Meridian had not been an ordinary shipping company.
It had been one of his father’s companies.
And it had closed six years ago after federal investigators discovered financial irregularities.
“When did your husband die?”
“Fourteen months ago.”
That made no sense.
Atlantic Meridian had been dead for years.
Unless Michael had continued doing work for someone connected to it.
“Emma, did your husband ever mention my family?”
“No.”
“My father?”
“No.”
“Julian Carver?”
Her eyes lifted.
The reaction was small.
But it was there.
Dante moved toward her.
“You know that name.”
“No.”
“You do.”
Emma backed against the counter.
“I’ve heard you say it.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Her breathing quickened.
Dante softened his voice.
“What did Michael tell you?”
For several seconds she said nothing.
Then tears filled her eyes.
“The night before he died, he came home terrified.”
Dante remained perfectly still.
“He gave me a key,” Emma continued. “He told me if anything happened to him, I should take Lily and disappear.”
“What key?”
“I don’t know.”
“You still have it?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
Emma opened her mouth.
The kitchen door swung open.
Julian stood there.
Neither of them had heard him approach.
He looked from Dante to Emma.
Then smiled.
“Sorry. Am I interrupting?”
Emma’s face went white.
Dante noticed.
So did Julian.
And in that instant, Dante understood something far more dangerous than a stranger visiting the service entrance.
Emma Harper wasn’t afraid of Victor Sloane.
May you like
Not most of all.
She was afraid of the man Dante had trusted for thirteen years.
