Chapter 4 - Dock Nineteen
The original order pad was not in Harper's locker.
She had taken it home.
Which meant whoever had broken into her apartment might already possess it.
“Then we're too late,” Vincent said.
“Maybe not.”
Harper explained her system.
Every server developed shortcuts. Harper tore completed pages from her pad at the end of each shift and shoved them into her apron until laundry day.
Tuesday's apron was still at the Brass Rail.
Vincent refused to let her return.
Harper went anyway.
He came with her.
The restaurant was closed.
Simon had vanished, and the owner claimed a “maintenance emergency.”
Vincent's men entered first.
Harper headed for the staff room.
Her apron hung exactly where she had left it.
She reached into the pocket.
Paper.
She unfolded the ticket.
Three ribeyes.
Macallan.
Vodka tonic.
Beer.
And squeezed into the margin:
DOCK 19 THURS 2AM.
Vincent stared at it.
“Thursday was yesterday.”
Harper's disappointment showed.
Then Vincent turned the ticket over.
A number had bled through from another note.
His face hardened.
“What?”
“That isn't a date.”
“What is it?”
“A shipping container.”
Dock 19 led them to the waterfront.
Harper remained in the SUV under protest while Vincent and his men searched.
Forty minutes later, he returned carrying a metal lockbox.
Inside were ledgers, photographs, and a flash drive.
Proof that Anthony Rossi had been diverting money for nearly 4 years.
But there was something worse.
Payments to a man named Detective Paul Mercer.
A police officer.
Harper felt sick.
“So we can't go to the police.”
“Not yet.”
Vincent looked through the photographs.
One showed Anthony meeting Simon.
Another showed the gray-suited man.
The final photograph made Vincent stop.
Harper leaned closer.
A much younger Vincent stood outside a hospital beside his mother.
The photograph was 15 years old.
Someone had circled Teresa Rossi's face.
Vincent's hands tightened.
“My mother's death was ruled an accident.”
“What happened?”
“Her car went off a bridge.”
Harper understood immediately.
“You don't think it was an accident anymore.”
Vincent said nothing.
That night he drank alone in his study.
Harper found him at 2:00 a.m.
She should have left.
Instead, she sat across from him.
“My mother used to say grief is love with nowhere to go,” Harper said.
Vincent looked at her.
“That sounds painful.”
“She was annoying like that.”
He laughed quietly.
It was the first real laugh Harper had heard from him.
She smiled.
The room changed.
Neither moved.
Vincent's eyes dropped briefly toward her mouth.
Harper noticed.
So did he.
He looked away first.
“You should sleep.”
“Probably.”
She stood.
“Harper.”
She turned.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For sitting down.”
The words struck her harder than they should have.
Everyone avoided Vincent Rossi.
Everyone feared him.
Yet beneath the reputation was a man who seemed almost startled when someone chose to stay.
The following afternoon, Harper visited her mother.
Evelyn immediately asked about Vincent.
“He's complicated.”
“Everyone worth knowing is complicated.”
“He's dangerous.”
“So is your blood pressure when you're angry.”
“Mom.”
Evelyn smiled.
Then she became serious.
“Does he scare you?”
Harper thought carefully.
“No.”
“Does the world around him scare you?”
“Yes.”
“Those are different questions.”
Harper knew that.
She wished she didn't.
When she returned to Vincent's estate, the front gates were open.
Too open.
One guard lay unconscious beside the driveway.
Harper's stomach dropped.
She ran inside.
Furniture had been overturned.
A lamp burned against the carpet.
Then she heard a gunshot.
Harper ducked behind a wall.
Footsteps approached.
A man appeared.
Gray Suit.
He smiled.
“You've caused an extraordinary amount of trouble for a waitress.”
Harper grabbed the nearest object.
A bronze sculpture.
“Come closer and find out how much.”
He raised his weapon.
Before he could fire, Vincent slammed into him from the side.
The gun skidded across the floor.
They fought brutally.
Harper grabbed the weapon and aimed it with shaking hands.
“Stop!”
Gray Suit froze.
Vincent didn't.
He struck him again.
“Vincent!”
He stopped.
Harper's hands trembled.
Vincent looked at her.
Then at the gun.
“Put it down.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes.”
“You don't know that.”
His expression shifted.
Even terrified, she was thinking.
He moved toward her carefully.
“Give it to me.”
Harper did.
Gray Suit laughed from the floor.
“You're protecting the wrong Rossi, sweetheart.”
Vincent turned.
The man spat blood.
“Ask him why his mother really died.”
Vincent went still.
“What did you say?”
The man smiled.
“Anthony wasn't the one who ordered it.”
Silence.
May you like
Then he looked directly at Vincent.
“Your father did.”
