Chapter 2 - The Man Who Finally Broke
Arthur read the letter 7 times.
By the eighth, the words had stopped looking like sentences.
They had become wounds.
He remained on the floor beside Norah's bed, one knee against the dusty rug, the letter shaking between hands that had once remained steady while men died in front of him.
She let Arthur hate her because his hatred kept him alive.
His eyes stopped there every time.
Three years.
One thousand ninety-five nights.
Arthur remembered every cruel thing he had said about her.
Every time Vincent had raised a glass and called Norah a treacherous woman.
Every time Arthur had allowed it.
His stomach turned.
Then came the memory that destroyed what remained of his composure.
Norah falling onto the stone steps.
Her palm striking the ground.
Rain running over her face.
Arthur telling her he would cut her throat if she returned.
And she had still looked back at him before disappearing through the gates.
Not with hatred.
With love.
Arthur's breath broke.
The letter slipped from his fingers.
He covered his mouth with one hand, exactly as though he could physically hold the grief inside.
It did not work.
A sound escaped him.
Low.
Raw.
Almost animal.
Arthur Costello bent forward until his forehead touched the edge of Norah's bed.
For the first time since he was 13 years old, he cried.
Not quietly.
His shoulders shook.
He gripped the blanket she had left behind 3 years ago and pressed it against his face, searching irrationally for a trace of the woman he had condemned.
"I'm sorry."
No answer.
"I'm sorry, baby."
Only the wind answered from beyond the windows.
Arthur stayed there for nearly 20 minutes.
Then something inside him changed.
Grief remained.
But beneath it, something colder opened its eyes.
Vincent.
Arthur stood.
He folded Norah's letter carefully along its original creases and placed it inside his jacket, directly over his heart.
His phone rang.
The screen showed Vincent's name.
Arthur stared at it.
For one terrible second, his thumb hovered over the answer button while every instinct demanded that he summon Vincent to the estate and put a bullet through his skull.
Then he remembered Norah's warning.
Half the crew is already on Vincent's payroll.
Arthur answered.
"Yeah?"
"Boss, sorry to bother you. Marino agreed to tomorrow night."
Arthur looked at his reflection in Norah's dusty mirror.
His face was wet.
His eyes were red.
But his voice became perfectly calm.
"Good."
"You okay?"
Arthur almost smiled.
"Never better."
Silence.
Then Vincent laughed.
"That's what I like to hear."
Arthur ended the call.
At 1:17 a.m., he drove alone to Clara's house.
His sister opened the door wearing pajamas beneath a wool cardigan.
"Arthur?"
She immediately frowned.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"You look terrible."
"I need to ask you about the night Norah left."
Clara went still.
Arthur saw it.
A tiny reaction.
But enough.
"You know something."
"Arthur—"
"What do you know?"
Clara looked upstairs toward the rooms where her husband and daughter slept.
Then she stepped onto the porch and quietly closed the door.
"Two days after Norah disappeared, I received an envelope."
Arthur's heartbeat changed.
"What envelope?"
"There was no return address."
"What was inside?"
Clara hesitated.
"A photograph of Sophie walking home from kindergarten."
Arthur's face emptied.
"And a note."
"What did it say?"
Clara swallowed.
"Your sister-in-law bought you 3 years. Don't waste them."
Arthur stared at her.
"You never told me?"
"I tried."
"When?"
"The next morning. I came to the estate."
Arthur remembered.
Vincent had told him Clara canceled.
"I never saw you."
"Vincent stopped me at the gate."
Arthur closed his eyes.
Of course.
"He said you were drunk and armed. He said you'd ordered everyone to stop mentioning Norah."
Clara's voice cracked.
"He told me if I cared about you, I should let her stay dead to us."
Arthur opened his eyes.
"She's alive."
Clara stared.
"You know that?"
"No."
The word nearly killed him.
"I need to find her."
Clara's expression changed.
Not relief.
Fear.
"Arthur..."
"What?"
"There's something else."
She disappeared inside.
When she returned, she carried a small wooden box.
Inside lay a silver necklace.
Norah's necklace.
Arthur had given it to her on their first anniversary.
His thumb touched the pendant.
"Where did you get this?"
"It arrived 8 months after she disappeared."
Arthur stopped breathing.
"There was a note."
Clara handed him a folded scrap of paper.
He opened it.
Only 6 words had been written.
Tell Arthur I kept my promise.
Arthur turned the paper over.
Nothing.
"Why wouldn't she come home?"
Clara whispered the question.
Arthur knew.
"Because she thought Vincent was still watching you."
He looked toward the street.
A dark sedan sat approximately 70 yards away.
Its headlights were off.
Arthur's gaze hardened.
"Clara."
"Yes?"
"Take Sophie and Daniel upstairs. Lock the bedroom."
"Why?"
"Now."
Something in his voice made her obey.
Arthur stepped off the porch.
The sedan's engine started.
Arthur walked faster.
The car accelerated.
He reached beneath his coat.
Too late.
The sedan disappeared around the corner.
Arthur did not chase it.
Instead, he memorized the plate.
Then he made one phone call.
Not to Vincent.
To Anthony Russo, an aging accountant who had served Arthur's father and despised Vincent.
Anthony answered on the fourth ring.
"Arthur?"
"I need you to quietly audit every account Vincent has touched for the last 4 years."
A pause.
"How quietly?"
"If he finds out, people die."
Another pause.
Then Anthony's voice lowered.
"When do you need it?"
"Yesterday."
Arthur returned to his car.
He placed Norah's necklace around his fist.
For 3 years, he had believed she abandoned him.
Now he understood something worse.
Norah had spent those years protecting him from a distance.
And someone was still watching Clara.
Which meant Vincent's plan was not finished.
Arthur started the engine.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Arthur's blood turned cold.
It showed him standing outside Clara's house less than 30 seconds earlier.
Below it was one message.
Some graves should stay closed.
Arthur stared at the photograph.
Then another message arrived.
This one contained an address.
May you like
And 4 words.
If you want Norah.
