Chapter 7 - The Truth About Her Parents
Lark had spent seventeen years believing her parents died because a drunk driver crossed the center line.
By sunrise, she knew that story might have been manufactured.
Auntie Bee sat at Nero's dining table with both hands wrapped around a mug.
Lark stood across from her.
“You knew?”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“For seventeen years?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Don't.”
Bee flinched.
Lark immediately regretted her tone.
But she couldn't stop.
“You don't get to call seventeen years of lying protection.”
Nero stood near the doorway.
For once, he didn't interfere.
Bee wiped her eyes.
“Your mother worked in payroll at the Meridian. Your father worked maintenance.”
Lark sat.
She had known those jobs.
Not what came with them.
“Your mother discovered deductions from employee accounts,” Bee continued. “Small ones at first. Then she found the trust.”
“The same trust?”
“Yes.”
“She told Alessandro?”
“He already suspected Salvatore.”
Bee reached into her purse and removed an old gold ring.
Lark recognized it instantly.
Her mother's wedding ring.
Bee twisted the interior band.
A tiny piece released.
Inside was a narrow brass key.
Lark stared.
“Alessandro gave this to me the night before he died. He said if anything happened, I should give it to your mother.”
“But Mom died too.”
“Two days later.”
Nero stepped forward.
“Two days?”
Lark looked at him.
His father had died Tuesday.
Her parents Thursday.
Two supposedly unrelated accidents.
They weren't unrelated anymore.
Bee's voice trembled.
“Your parents were going to meet a federal agent. They never arrived.”
“Why didn't you tell police?”
“I did.”
“What?”
“I gave a statement. The detective told me I was grieving and imagining connections.”
“Name?”
Bee remembered.
“Walter Crane.”
Lark's blood went cold.
“Crane?”
Nero's expression changed.
“His father.”
The pieces began locking together.
Crane hadn't accidentally become floor manager.
His family had been involved from the beginning.
The key opened a private deposit box at an old credit union that had since been absorbed by another bank.
Inside were photographs, payroll files, and a sealed envelope.
Lark opened it.
Her mother's handwriting.
For Lark, when she's old enough.
She couldn't breathe.
Nero quietly stepped away to give her privacy.
She unfolded the letter.
Her mother wrote that she and Lark's father had discovered employees were being exploited through shell companies.
They planned to help Alessandro expose it.
She also wrote about Lark.
Her laugh.
Her stubbornness.
The way she sang incorrectly to every song on the radio.
Then the final paragraph:
If anything happens to us, never let anyone convince you that kindness is weakness. Cruel people depend on good people becoming afraid.
Lark covered her mouth.
Nero stood beside her.
She leaned against him before deciding whether she wanted to.
His arms closed around her.
No words.
She cried against the chest of a man she'd met while he was covered in dirt beside a dumpster.
Life had a strange sense of humor.
Later, they examined the remaining documents.
One photograph showed Salvatore meeting Walter Crane.
Another showed Julian.
A third showed an unknown man handing cash to the mechanic from Alessandro's crash.
On the back, Lark's father had written a license plate.
Dominic ran it.
The vehicle had belonged to a security company.
Current owner?
Aaron Pike.
The Meridian security chief.
They had enough to approach federal authorities.
But Nero wanted one more thing.
A living witness.
Crane.
Dominic located him at a private warehouse near the edge of town.
Nero wanted to go alone.
Lark laughed at him.
“Absolutely not.”
“This isn't an audit.”
“I noticed.”
“It's dangerous.”
“Someone murdered my parents.”
“That is precisely why—”
“You don't get to decide which truths I'm strong enough to face.”
Nero stopped.
Lark stepped closer.
“You tested me because you wanted to know what I'd do when helping somebody cost me something.”
Her eyes burned.
“Now you know.”
He stared at her.
“Yes.”
“So stop asking me to become someone else because you're afraid.”
That struck deeper than she intended.
Nero finally nodded.
They went together.
The warehouse was empty.
Almost.
Crane sat in a chair beneath a single hanging light.
His hands were tied.
His mouth was bleeding.
Lark stopped.
“This is a trap.”
Nero reached for his weapon.
A speaker crackled overhead.
Salvatore's voice filled the warehouse.
“Hello, nephew.”
Nero's jaw clenched.
Crane struggled.
“Get me out!”
Salvatore continued.
“You've always been too sentimental, Nero. Your father had the same defect.”
“Show yourself.”
“No.”
“Coward.”
“Survivor.”
Lark scanned the rafters.
Cameras.
Salvatore was watching remotely.
Then Crane screamed.
“There's a bomb!”
Dominic looked underneath the chair.
His face changed.
“Move!”
A timer showed ninety seconds.
Crane sobbed.
“They left me!”
Nero started toward him.
Dominic grabbed his arm.
“We don't have time.”
Nero looked at Crane.
The man who fired Lark.
Helped frame her.
Possibly participated in covering up two murders.
Then Nero looked at Lark.
She already knew what choice he was considering.
“Save him.”
Nero stared.
“He'd leave you.”
“I know.”
“He tried to destroy you.”
“I know.”
“Lark—”
“We don't become them.”
That decided it.
Dominic cut the restraints.
They dragged Crane outside.
The warehouse exploded seconds after they cleared the doors.
The blast threw them onto the pavement.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Crane began laughing.
Not because anything was funny.
Because he was alive.
He looked at Lark.
“You saved me.”
She stood painfully.
“Don't make me regret it.”
Crane began crying.
“I'll tell you everything.”
Nero crouched beside him.
“Start with Salvatore.”
Crane swallowed.
“He ordered the payroll theft.”
“Julian?”
“Covered the accounts.”
“My father?”
Crane closed his eyes.
“My father helped arrange the crash.”
Nero went completely still.
“And Lark's parents?”
Crane looked at her.
“Yes.”
Her knees nearly failed.
“Who ordered it?”
“Salvatore.”
Lark closed her eyes.
Nero's hand found hers.
Crane continued.
“But that's not the worst part.”
Nero looked at him.
“What is?”
Crane's face twisted with fear.
“Salvatore isn't trying to steal the Meridian anymore.”
“Then what is he doing?”
“He's selling it.”
“To whom?”
Crane shook his head.
“Not selling the casino.”
He looked directly at Nero.
“Selling everything underneath it.”
Nero frowned.
“What underneath it?”
May you like
Crane whispered:
“The tunnels.”
