Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO CAME BACKClara’s first instinct was denial.
“You’re mistaken.”
Lorenzo ended the call.
“My people don’t mistake Salerno vehicles.”
“I haven’t spoken to anyone from that firm in four years.”
“Someone apparently remembers you.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“That doesn’t mean they know you don’t.”
Clara grabbed her purse.
“I need to get Mia.”
Lorenzo stepped between her and the door.
“You’re not going home alone.”
She stared at him.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Mr. Duca—”
“Lorenzo.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Neither was anyone else.
Twenty minutes later, Clara sat inside the back of a black armored SUV beside Lorenzo while another vehicle followed.
She hated everything about it.
The tinted windows.
The silent driver.
The gun beneath Lorenzo’s jacket.
The fact that a life she had spent years avoiding seemed to have found her anyway.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Lorenzo asked.
Clara watched Chicago pass beyond the glass.
“Nothing that matters.”
“Someone following you matters.”
“I mean about Mia.”
He said nothing.
Clara finally looked at him.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“What am I thinking?”
“That her father was connected to Salerno.”
“Was he?”
Her silence answered.
Lorenzo’s jaw hardened.
“Name.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“I said no.”
Most people regretted defying Lorenzo immediately.
Clara only looked exhausted.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Then explain.”
“My daughter has had three peaceful years.”
“And now she may not have a fourth unless you tell me who is hunting you.”
The words were harsh.
The truth behind them was harsher.
Clara closed her eyes.
“His name was Daniel Mercer.”
Lorenzo went still.
He knew that name too.
Daniel Mercer had been one of Victor Salerno’s financial couriers.
Officially, he was a junior investment analyst.
Unofficially, he moved cash between shell companies.
He had vanished around the time Halpern & Pierce collapsed.
“I thought Mercer was dead,” Lorenzo said.
“So did I.”
“You were together?”
“For almost a year.”
“Did you know what he did?”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“I thought he was an accountant.”
Lorenzo almost smiled at the bitter absurdity.
“Apparently Chicago has dangerous accountants.”
Clara ignored him.
“When I got pregnant, Daniel started acting strange. He said we had to leave Illinois. He said people were watching us. Then one morning he disappeared.”
“No call?”
“One.”
She turned toward Lorenzo.
“He called from an unknown number and told me never to look for him. He said if anyone asked, I should say the baby wasn’t his.”
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
“What else?”
“He said he had taken something from a dangerous man.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
The SUV slowed outside Clara’s apartment.
Two of Lorenzo’s men entered the building first.
Another checked the alley.
Mia was safe upstairs with the sitter.
When Clara opened the apartment door, the little girl ran toward her.
“Mommy!”
Clara dropped to her knees.
Mia wrapped both arms around her.
Then she noticed Lorenzo.
Her eyes lit up.
“Mr. Five Minutes!”
One security guard coughed suspiciously.
Lorenzo glared over his shoulder.
Mia tugged his coat.
“You came to my house.”
“So it appears.”
“We have cereal.”
“An impressive offer.”
Clara almost laughed despite herself.
Then Lorenzo saw something taped to the refrigerator.
A preschool drawing.
Three figures.
Clara.
Mia.
And a tall man wearing a black suit.
Above him, in crooked purple crayon, was the word LORENZO.
His chest tightened.
“Who’s that?” he asked unnecessarily.
Mia smiled.
“You.”
Clara looked mortified.
“She draws everyone.”
“I see.”
“She drew the mailman yesterday.”
Mia shook her head.
“No. I drew his truck.”
Lorenzo looked at Clara.
She looked away.
A security guard entered from the bedroom.
“House is clear.”
Another appeared from the hallway holding an envelope.
“This was outside the rear window.”
Clara’s face drained.
Lorenzo took it.
Inside was a photograph.
Clara and Mia leaving preschool.
Taken two days earlier.
Written across the back:
WHERE IS DANIEL’S KEY?
Clara’s knees nearly gave out.
Lorenzo caught her elbow.
“What key?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“I am thinking!”
Mia looked frightened.
Lorenzo lowered his voice immediately.
“Not here.”
He handed the picture to Vincent.
“Pack what they need.”
Clara stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re coming to my estate.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“I’m not moving into your house because someone left a photograph.”
“Someone photographed your child.”
That ended the argument.
Twenty minutes later, Clara packed a small suitcase while Mia proudly showed Lorenzo her toys.
“This is Mr. Buttons.”
“We’ve met.”
“He doesn’t like thunderstorms.”
“Understandable.”
“This is Princess Pickle.”
Lorenzo looked at a stuffed green dinosaur wearing a plastic crown.
“That’s a dinosaur.”
“She’s a princess.”
“Of course.”
Clara watched from the bedroom doorway.
The most feared man she had ever met was sitting on her worn carpet listening to a three-year-old explain dinosaur royalty.
Something about it terrified her more than the photograph.
Because Lorenzo was becoming real.
Not an employer.
Not a dangerous name whispered by employees.
A man.
And men could be lost.
At the estate, Mia was given a guest room larger than Clara’s entire apartment.
She jumped on the bed exactly once before Clara caught her.
“No jumping.”
“But it’s bouncy.”
“No.”
Lorenzo appeared in the doorway.
“It can survive.”
Clara looked at him.
“That’s not the point.”
Mia jumped again.
Lorenzo nearly smiled.
Then Vincent arrived.
The expression vanished.
“We identified the man who delivered the envelope.”
“Salerno?”
“Indirectly.”
Vincent handed him a tablet.
A grainy surveillance image showed a man in a baseball cap.
Clara came closer.
She stared at the image.
Then the blood left her face.
Lorenzo noticed.
“You know him.”
Clara whispered, “No.”
“Clara.”
Her hand covered her mouth.
The man looked older.
Thinner.
A scar crossed his jaw.
But Clara knew those eyes.
She had once loved those eyes.
“Daniel.”
Lorenzo looked again at the photograph.
Daniel Mercer.
Alive.
Watching his daughter from across a street.
Mia tugged Clara’s sleeve.
“Mommy?”
Clara turned quickly.
“Baby, go pick pajamas with Mrs. Russo.”
The housekeeper led Mia away.
When they were alone, Lorenzo asked the question Clara feared most.
“Why would Mia’s father threaten her own mother?”
Clara stared at Daniel’s photograph.
“I don’t think he did.”
“How can you know?”
“Because I know his handwriting.”
She turned the threatening photograph over.
“That message isn’t Daniel’s.”
Lorenzo’s eyes sharpened.
“Then Daniel isn’t threatening you.”
“No.”
May you like
Clara looked toward the hallway where her daughter had disappeared.
“He’s trying to warn me.”
Related Stories
