Chapter 3 - The Brother Who Came Back From the Dead
“If Gabriel is alive, why did he break into our mother's bedroom instead of coming to me?”
Dante asked the question three times.
Nobody answered.
At 1:17 a.m., he stood in his father's old study, staring at the phone Vanessa had abandoned.
The screen had gone dark.
Caleb stood opposite him.
“Do you want me to trace the number?”
“I want you to find out who owns it. Preserve the phone exactly as we found it.”
Caleb nodded.
“There's something you should know first.”
Dante looked up.
“The man on the security footage didn't enter through the front gate. He used the old service tunnel beneath the greenhouse.”
Dante frowned.
“That tunnel was sealed years ago.”
“Apparently not.”
A memory surfaced.
Gabriel had loved those tunnels as a boy.
He and Dante had raced through them, pretending to be soldiers defending a castle.
Their father had forbidden them from going underground after Gabriel nearly drowned during a flood.
Only four people had known the tunnel's hidden entrance.
Antonio.
Dante.
Gabriel.
And the estate's former groundskeeper.
“Find Thomas Bennett,” Dante ordered.
Caleb hesitated.
“Thomas died last winter.”
Dante closed his eyes.
Another dead man.
Another missing answer.
Across the room, Eleanor sat beside Clara.
Her hands rested on the wooden arms of Antonio's favorite chair.
“Dante?”
He approached.
“Yes, Mom?”
“I need you to understand something about your brother.”
Dante crouched beside her.
“Tell me.”
“Gabriel came to see me after the fire.”
The words hit him like a physical blow.
“When?”
“Three weeks afterward.”
Dante stared.
“You let me bury him.”
Eleanor's face twisted.
“I didn't know what to do. He came in the middle of the night. Your father brought him through the back entrance.”
“And you never told me?”
“Gabriel begged us not to.”
“Why?”
“Because he said the people looking for him would hurt you.”
Dante stood.
For seventeen years, he had carried guilt over Gabriel's death.
The brothers had argued the morning of the fire.
Gabriel had accused Dante of becoming too much like their father.
Dante had told him to stop acting like a child.
Those had been the last words he believed he'd ever spoken to his brother.
Now he learned Gabriel had been alive.
And their parents had known.
“Did Dad make you keep quiet?” he asked.
Eleanor nodded.
“He said the less you knew, the safer you'd be.”
Dante laughed without humor.
“That's what he always said.”
Clara rose.
“Mr. Moretti, Mrs. Moretti was trying to protect you.”
Dante turned.
“Seventeen years, Clara.”
His voice cracked.
“Seventeen birthdays. Seventeen Christmases. I stood at a grave every year.”
Eleanor began crying.
Dante immediately regretted his tone.
He knelt again.
“Mom. I'm angry about the lie. I'm not angry that he's alive.”
She reached for his face.
“Your brother loved you.”
“Then why didn't he come home?”
Eleanor swallowed.
“Because he thought he had killed someone.”
The study went silent.
“What?”
“Gabriel told your father there was a man inside the warehouse when the fire started. He believed that man died because of him.”
Dante stared at her.
“Who was the man?”
“I never knew.”
Caleb's phone vibrated.
He read the message.
“Boss. We found the name Margaret Vale.”
Dante turned.
“Where?”
“She ran a private nursing agency in Connecticut. Closed it eight years ago.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes. Seventy-one. Lives outside New Haven.”
“Get the car.”
Clara stepped forward.
“I'm coming.”
Dante shook his head.
“Stay with my mother.”
“Sir, Margaret Vale is the name Mrs. Moretti has been repeating in her sleep for weeks.”
Eleanor lifted her head.
“Because Margaret called me.”
Dante froze.
“When?”
“Last month. She said Gabriel wanted to come home.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Vanessa took my telephone away the next morning. She said the calls were upsetting me.”
Dante looked toward Caleb.
“Find out every time Vanessa interfered with my mother's communications.”
Caleb nodded.
“And put two guards outside this room.”
Dante leaned down and kissed Eleanor's forehead.
“I'll find him.”
She caught his wrist.
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“If Gabriel has done something terrible, listen to him before you judge him.”
Dante squeezed her hand.
“I promise.”
Two hours later, Dante and Caleb arrived at a modest house on a quiet Connecticut road.
A porch light glowed above the entrance.
Margaret Vale answered after the third knock.
She was small, gray-haired, and wearing a blue cardigan.
When she saw Dante, her expression changed.
“You look just like Antonio.”
“Mrs. Vale?”
She glanced past him.
“Did anyone follow you?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
Caleb surveyed the street.
“We took precautions.”
Margaret stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Her living room smelled of tea and furniture polish.
Photographs covered the mantel.
Dante noticed one showing a young man standing beside Margaret at a lakeside cabin.
His heart lurched.
“That's Gabriel.”
Margaret followed his gaze.
“Yes.”
“When was it taken?”
“Eleven years ago.”
Dante touched the frame.
His brother was older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably alive.
“Where is he now?”
Margaret sat slowly.
“I don't know.”
Dante turned.
“Mrs. Vale, please.”
“I helped him for years. But he stopped contacting me after Antonio died.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed Richard Sterling had found us.”
Dante sat opposite her.
“Tell me what happened at the warehouse.”
Margaret stared at her hands.
“Gabriel discovered that Bellweather Holdings was being used to move money through false shipping invoices. He copied the records.”
“Records of what?”
“Bribes. Stolen assets. Payments to people who were supposed to be dead.”
Dante felt his stomach tighten.
“Who started the fire?”
“Gabriel believed Richard did.”
“Believed?”
Margaret looked up.
“He never saw who struck the match.”
Dante leaned forward.
“What happened to the man inside?”
Margaret hesitated.
“His name was Daniel Cross. He was an accountant working for Richard.”
“Did he die?”
“Yes.”
Dante closed his eyes.
“Gabriel thought he caused it?”
“He had locked Daniel in an office to stop him destroying the evidence. Then the fire spread.”
The room fell silent.
Margaret wiped her eyes.
“Your brother spent years believing he was responsible.”
Dante spoke quietly.
“Where did he go?”
“Different places. Different names. Antonio paid for his protection until his death.”
“And after that?”
“Someone else took over.”
“Who?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I never learned.”
A car passed outside.
Its headlights briefly swept across the curtains.
Margaret stiffened.
“There's something else.”
She reached beneath her chair and removed a sealed envelope.
“Gabriel told me to give this to you if the Sterling family ever tried to take your mother's home.”
Dante opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Richard Sterling standing beside a young Vanessa.
Behind them was the warehouse where Gabriel supposedly died.
The date was printed on the back.
The morning of the fire.
Vanessa had been fifteen.
Dante stared.
“She's known about Gabriel all along.”
Margaret nodded.
“Her father brought her to the warehouse that day.”
“Why?”
Margaret's voice trembled.
“Because she saw something he didn't want anyone else to see.”
Suddenly, Caleb's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Boss. We have a problem.”
“What happened?”
“Someone entered the estate through the service tunnel again.”
Dante stood.
“My mother?”
“She's safe. Clara's with her.”
“Then what?”
Caleb listened.
Then looked directly at Dante.
“The intruder left a message on your father's desk.”
“What message?”
Caleb turned on the speaker.
A guard's frightened voice filled the room.
“Mr. Moretti, somebody carved five words into the wood.”
Dante's pulse hammered.
“Read them.”
The guard swallowed.
“ASK DANTE WHO LOCKED THE DOOR.”
Margaret suddenly covered her mouth.
Dante looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She began shaking.
“Oh, God.”
“Mrs. Vale?”
She whispered:
“Your brother didn't lock Daniel Cross inside that warehouse.”
Dante went still.
“Then who did?”
May you like
Margaret stared at him with tears in her eyes.
“Gabriel always believed it was you.”
