Chapter 4 - Someone Was Already Inside
Alessandro wouldn't let me go home alone.
I argued for four minutes.
Then he said something that ended the argument.
“If they wanted your address, Claire, they didn't want to send flowers.”
Victor drove.
Alessandro sat beside me in the back of a black SUV.
Two additional vehicles followed.
My neighborhood had never seen a convoy like it.
At my apartment building, the front door was unlocked.
It was never unlocked.
Alessandro caught my wrist.
“Stay here.”
“My mother’s things are upstairs.”
“Claire.”
“My mother’s medication is upstairs.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he looked at Victor.
“Clear it.”
Two men entered first.
We waited.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Then Victor’s voice came through Alessandro’s earpiece.
“Third floor is clear.”
We climbed the stairs.
My apartment door was open.
Nothing looked stolen.
That made it worse.
Someone had gone through my kitchen drawers.
The hospital envelopes had been placed neatly on the table.
My bedroom closet stood open.
My mother's old photo albums were scattered across the floor.
I knelt.
“No.”
A photograph had been removed.
I knew immediately which one.
My mother and father standing beside a lake in 1997.
I was three.
My father, Daniel Bennett, had disappeared when I was eight.
Mom told me he abandoned us.
I had spent twenty-six years believing her.
“What’s missing?” Alessandro asked.
“A picture of my father.”
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
But I saw it.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“Claire—”
“You hired me to tell you when people lie.”
Victor closed his eyes.
Alessandro said nothing.
“You're lying.”
I stood.
“Who was my father?”
“I don't know.”
“That one was true.”
He looked almost annoyed.
“But you recognized his name.”
Silence.
“Daniel Bennett,” I repeated.
Victor moved toward the window.
That told me everything.
“You both know it.”
Alessandro finally spoke.
“My father had a driver named Daniel Bennett.”
My knees weakened.
“What?”
“He disappeared eighteen years ago.”
Exactly when my father left.
I stared at Alessandro.
“You knew this when you hired me?”
“No.”
“When did you find out?”
“Last night.”
“Before or after you offered me the job?”
“After.”
I wanted to believe him.
I wasn't sure I did.
Victor pulled out his phone.
“I can retrieve archived personnel records.”
“Do it,” I said.
Alessandro looked at me.
“You don't give Victor orders.”
Victor was already dialing.
“Apparently she does now.”
Twenty minutes later, we were in the SUV.
Victor received the file.
Daniel Bennett had worked for Alessandro’s father, Salvatore Romano, from 1994 until 2000.
His employment ended three days after the car accident that killed Alessandro’s mother.
My mouth went dry.
“That isn't coincidence.”
“No,” Alessandro said.
“Did my father kill your mother?”
His head snapped toward me.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because my father spent years looking for Daniel.”
“Maybe because he wanted revenge.”
Alessandro stared through the windshield.
“Or because Daniel knew who actually caused the crash.”
My world tilted.
Everything my mother had told me suddenly had cracks.
We returned to Mercy General.
I entered her room alone.
Mom was awake.
“Claire?”
I closed the door.
“Dad worked for the Romanos.”
Her face lost all color.
There it was.
Confirmation.
“You knew.”
“Sweetheart—”
“You told me he sold insurance.”
“He did. Before.”
“You told me he left us.”
Her eyes filled.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
She looked toward the door.
“Is Alessandro here?”
“Yes.”
Fear crossed her face.
Not dislike.
Fear.
“Mom.”
She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength.
“Listen to me. Your father did not abandon us.”
My throat tightened.
“Then where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“You haven't seen him?”
“Not since September 2000.”
The same month Alessandro's mother died.
Mom began crying.
“Daniel came home that night covered in blood.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He said there had been an accident. He kept saying, ‘They weren't supposed to be in the car.’”
“Who?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
She swallowed.
“He gave me a key.”
“What key?”
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
“Rosie’s.”
I stared.
“The diner?”
“Under booth seven.”
My blood went cold.
Booth seven.
Alessandro’s booth.
“What does it open?”
“I don't know.”
Mom looked at me with twenty-six years of terror in her eyes.
“Your father told me that if a Romano ever came asking about Daniel Bennett, I was supposed to give them the key.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because the last thing your father said before he disappeared was that one of the Romanos had betrayed the family.”
The door opened.
Alessandro stood there.
He had heard enough.
“Which Romano?” he asked.
Mom stared at him.
“I don't know.”
Then her monitor alarm sounded.
Nurses rushed inside.
I was pushed into the corridor.
Alessandro caught me before my knees buckled.
For once, I didn't fight him.
At 1:08 a.m., my mother stabilized.
At 1:34, Alessandro and I drove to Rosie’s.
Rosa met us with a crowbar.
We lifted booth seven from the floor.
Underneath was a small metal compartment.
Inside lay an old brass key.
And a Polaroid photograph.
Alessandro picked it up.
His face went white.
The photograph showed his mother standing beside my father.
Alive.
Three days after the date she supposedly died.
On the back, Daniel Bennett had written:
Salvatore lied about the crash. Elena survived.
May you like
And beneath it:
Ask Victor what happened next.
