Chapter 4 - The Name Her Mother Took to the GraveDaniel.
For two days, the name consumed Chloe.
Daniel who?
Her mother had no brother named Daniel.
No close friend.
No coworker Chloe remembered.
No neighbor.
Nothing.
Dominic moved Chloe to a secured brownstone in Back Bay.
She objected to the phrase “moved.”
“I am staying temporarily.”
Dominic looked at the suitcase Leo had retrieved from her apartment.
“You have more luggage than I do.”
“I own three pairs of jeans.”
“Four.”
“Why do you know that?”
“I saw Leo carry the bag.”
“Still creepy.”
The brownstone belonged to Dominic.
Or one of his companies.
Chloe stopped asking.
The place had four bedrooms, a kitchen larger than her apartment, a rooftop terrace, and two armed men downstairs.
She chose the smallest bedroom.
Dominic noticed.
“Why that one?”
“It feels normal.”
“It is a closet.”
“It has a queen bed.”
“Exactly.”
Rich people were exhausting.
Dominic did not stay there.
At least not initially.
He visited daily.
Always with information.
Never enough.
The shooter, Aaron Pike, survived surgery but died twelve hours later after someone somehow administered a lethal dose of medication in a guarded hospital room.
The security camera outside his room had malfunctioned.
Dominic did not believe in malfunctioning cameras.
Neither did Chloe anymore.
Then they found Daniel.
Or thought they did.
A search through Elaine Bennett’s old records revealed Daniel Mercer.
Former investigative reporter.
Boston Globe.
Retired seven years earlier.
Chloe recognized the name only after seeing his photograph.
“He came to our house once.”
“When?” Dominic asked.
“I was maybe sixteen.”
“What happened?”
“My mother made me go upstairs.”
“Did you?”
“Obviously not.”
Dominic’s mouth twitched.
“I listened from the stairs.”
“What did you hear?”
“Arguing.”
“About?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
Her childhood home.
Her mother’s voice.
A man saying something about records.
Then Elaine crying.
“I remember him saying, ‘You cannot bury this forever.’”
Dominic’s eyes sharpened.
“What did your mother say?”
“Something like, ‘I have a daughter.’”
Silence.
Dominic leaned back.
“That matters.”
“Everything apparently matters now.”
They drove to Daniel Mercer’s home in Gloucester.
No answer.
The mailbox overflowed.
Dominic’s men entered first.
The house was empty.
Dust suggested nobody had lived there for weeks.
In the office, Chloe found newspaper clippings covering one wall.
Hospitals.
Construction contracts.
Charities.
Organized crime investigations.
One name appeared repeatedly.
St. Vincent’s Foundation.
“What is that?” Chloe asked.
Dominic’s expression darkened.
“A charitable medical foundation.”
“Connected to your family?”
“Not officially.”
“Unofficially?”
“My father donated to it.”
Chloe looked at him.
“You said Bellucci?”
“They donated too.”
“So two rival crime families were funding the same charity?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds healthy.”
“It sounds like laundering.”
They found Daniel’s notebook inside a locked drawer.
Page after page referenced shell companies.
Hospital procurement contracts.
Fake vendors.
Millions diverted through St. Vincent’s Foundation over twenty years.
Then Chloe saw a name.
ELAINE BENNETT — BOOKS.
Her mother.
“What does books mean?”
Dominic took the notebook.
“Accounting records.”
“She was a librarian.”
“Was she always?”
Chloe started answering.
Then stopped.
Before Chloe was born, Elaine had worked as an administrative clerk.
At a hospital.
Chloe remembered only because her mother once joked that the smell of antiseptic had convinced her to change careers.
“What hospital?” Dominic asked.
Chloe already knew.
“St. Vincent’s.”
The old hospital had closed fifteen years earlier.
Her mother had worked there.
Elaine had seen something.
Maybe copied something.
Maybe helped Daniel investigate it.
And someone had remembered.
Dominic’s phone rang.
Leo.
“We have company.”
Dominic moved immediately.
“Where?”
“Two vehicles. Four, maybe six men.”
Dominic grabbed Chloe’s hand.
“Back door.”
She ran with him.
The first bullet broke a window before they reached the kitchen.
Chloe screamed.
Dominic pulled her down.
“Stay behind me.”
“You know I hate that sentence.”
“Complain later.”
They escaped through a rear garden.
Leo met them at the alley.
Gunfire echoed.
Dominic pushed Chloe into an SUV.
He climbed beside her.
The vehicle accelerated.
Chloe breathed hard.
“You knew this could happen.”
“I knew it was possible.”
“You brought me anyway.”
“You insisted.”
“Don’t use my own independence against me.”
Dominic almost smiled.
Then the windshield exploded.
The driver swerved.
A second vehicle slammed into them.
Metal screamed.
Chloe’s head struck the window.
The world turned sideways.
When she opened her eyes, smoke filled the SUV.
“Dominic?”
No answer.
“Dominic!”
He was slumped beside her.
Blood ran from his temple.
Outside, men approached.
Chloe heard footsteps.
She tried the door.
Jammed.
Dominic stirred.
“Chloe.”
“We need to move.”
He looked through the shattered window.
His expression sharpened instantly.
“Down.”
A bullet tore through the vehicle.
Dominic covered her with his body.
Leo fired from somewhere outside.
The rear door opened.
A stranger grabbed Chloe.
She screamed.
Dominic caught the man’s wrist.
The struggle was brutal and fast.
A gun discharged.
The attacker fell.
Dominic dragged Chloe from the SUV.
They ran into an alley.
His hand remained around hers.
Not pulling hard.
Holding.
“Can you run?”
“Yes.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“So are you.”
“Mine is prettier.”
She stared at him.
“Are you flirting during a gunfight?”
“Apparently.”
Chloe almost laughed.
Then Dominic shoved her behind a brick wall.
Another burst of gunfire.
His face changed.
“Stay.”
“Where are you going?”
“Leo.”
“No.”
“Chloe.”
She grabbed his jacket.
“Every time you leave, somebody shoots something.”
He looked at her hand.
Then her face.
For one suspended second, they were inches apart.
Adrenaline.
Fear.
Something else.
Dominic touched her cheek.
His thumb came away bloody.
“You saved me once.”
His voice was low.
“I’m not letting this kill you.”
Before Chloe could answer, Leo appeared.
“Move!”
They escaped.
Hours later, inside another safe house, Dominic received a call.
Daniel Mercer had been found.
Dead.
His body had been recovered from Boston Harbor.
But police found something in his coat.
A storage-unit key.
May you like
And written across the plastic tag were two words:
CHLOE BENNETT.
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