Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH NO FAMILY PHOTOS
The Kane estate did not look like a mafia mansion.
That disappointed Lucia.
She had apparently imagined gargoyles.
Maybe a moat.
Possibly a dungeon.
Instead, the property outside Lake Forest looked like an extremely expensive home belonging to people who considered seven bathrooms reasonable.
Stone exterior.
Tall windows.
Oak trees.
A pool covered for winter.
Security cameras hidden well enough that ordinary visitors probably never noticed them.
I noticed.
There were twelve before we reached the front door.
“You expect us to live here?”
“Temporarily,” Marco said.
“No.”
Lucia pressed her face against the car window.
“There’s a swing!”
“Still no.”
Marco looked tired.
“Your apartment has been compromised.”
“Then put guards outside.”
“They already got inside.”
“So replace the lock.”
“The man who entered your home works for somebody willing to attack Dario inside Kane headquarters.”
I hated when logic belonged to other people.
Lucia looked at me.
“Can we stay until they find my music box?”
I closed my eyes.
“Two nights.”
Marco wisely did not smile.
Dario arrived six hours later.
Against medical advice.
Dr. Whitmore called him several things over the phone.
Most were probably not in medical textbooks.
Dario came through the door using a cane, Marco on one side and a nurse on the other.
Lucia stared.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Dario paused.
“Apparently.”
“The doctor said your brain got hurt.”
“Also true.”
“You should listen to doctors.”
He looked at me.
“Does she always do this?”
“Yes.”
Lucia pointed toward the couch.
“Sit.”
To my surprise, Dario obeyed.
That was our first evening at Kane House.
It felt wrong calling it a home.
There were no family pictures.
No magnets on the refrigerator.
No shoes by the stairs.
No framed school art.
Everything was beautiful.
Nothing looked lived in.
I found myself wondering how a man could own thirty rooms and still have nowhere that looked safe enough to sleep.
Lucia solved the problem within two hours.
She left crayons on the kitchen island.
A stuffed rabbit on Dario’s couch.
One sock beside the staircase.
By dinner, Kane House looked slightly less like a museum.
Dario watched her color.
“What are you drawing?”
“You.”
He frowned.
“Why am I purple?”
“You look angry.”
“Angry is red.”
“Purple is grumpy.”
I covered my mouth.
Marco coughed suspiciously into his fist.
Dario studied the picture.
“Who is that?”
“Mommy.”
I was apparently yellow.
“And that?”
“Me.”
Pink.
“And the dog?”
“We don’t have one.”
“Then why draw one?”
“So Mommy knows we need one.”
I pointed at her.
“Manipulation.”
Dario nodded solemnly.
“She’s good.”
“You are not helping.”
For five minutes, the room felt normal.
That frightened me almost more than danger.
Normal makes you forget where you are.
After Lucia went upstairs with the housekeeper to choose a guest room, I sat across from Dario.
“Why don’t you have pictures?”
He looked around.
“Pictures?”
“Family.”
“I don’t have much family worth framing.”
“Vincent?”
His expression changed.
“My cousin.”
“Marco told me.”
“Marco talks too much.”
From the doorway Marco said, “First time anyone has accused me of that.”
I looked at Dario.
“You think Vincent killed Mateo?”
“I think Vincent knows who did.”
“Difference?”
“A significant one.”
“How?”
“Vincent prefers other people to get their hands dirty.”
I hated how casually he said it.
“What happens now?”
“We find the music box.”
“And if the evidence is gone?”
“We find another way.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Dario looked almost amused.
“No?”
“You do not get to make me part of your war.”
“You became part of it when Mateo died.”
“My husband became part of it when you asked him to investigate your company.”
His expression hardened.
“Yes.”
“I am not him.”
“I know.”
“Lucia definitely isn’t.”
“I know.”
“Then keep us out.”
Dario leaned back carefully.
“If you leave this house tonight, the people who searched your apartment will follow you.”
I stood.
“Is that a threat?”
His eyes snapped toward mine.
“No.”
“Sounds like one.”
“It’s a warning.”
“I spent eight years married to a man who never once told me where I could go.”
Dario became still.
“I’m not telling you where you can go.”
“You’re telling me I can’t leave.”
“I’m telling you what waits outside the gate.”
“That’s convenient.”
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then reached for his phone.
“Marco.”
“Yes?”
“Arrange a car.”
Marco frowned.
“For Mrs. Reyes?”
“And Lucia.”
I hadn’t expected that.
Dario looked at me.
“You want to leave, leave.”
I waited.
“No guards forcing you back. No locked gates.”
His voice softened.
“But take two security vehicles. I’m asking, not ordering.”
That mattered.
More than I wanted it to.
I sat again.
“One week.”
Dario nodded.
“One week.”
The front doors opened thirty minutes later.
A tall man entered without waiting to be announced.
He had Dario’s eyes.
Not the same face.
But the resemblance was enough.
Mid-forties.
Dark blond hair.
Expensive camel coat.
Smile designed to make people feel chosen.
“Look who finally decided dying was inconvenient.”
Dario did not smile.
“Vincent.”
There he was.
Vincent Kane.
He crossed the room and embraced Dario carefully.
“You scared the hell out of everyone.”
“I’m touched.”
“You look terrible.”
“You look expensive.”
Vincent laughed.
Then noticed me.
“And this must be Elena Reyes.”
Every instinct in my body woke up.
I had never met him.
“How do you know my name?”
His smile barely changed.
“Marco informed the family we had guests.”
Marco stood near the hallway.
His expression revealed nothing.
Vincent looked toward the stairs.
“And Lucia?”
My blood went cold.
Dario’s voice changed instantly.
“Why do you know her name?”
Vincent spread his hands.
“Relax. Security briefed me.”
“No,” Marco said.
Silence.
Vincent turned.
Marco continued.
“I said Mrs. Reyes and her daughter.”
The smile vanished for half a second.
There.
Tiny.
But real.
Then footsteps sounded upstairs.
Lucia appeared.
“Mom?”
“Stay there.”
She stopped.
Vincent looked at her.
Something strange crossed his face.
Recognition?
Fear?
Lucia stared back.
Then she pointed.
“You.”
Vincent blinked.
“Me?”
Her face tightened.
“You were at the hospital.”
Nobody moved.
Vincent laughed softly.
“I visited Dario.”
Lucia shook her head.
“No.”
She walked down three steps.
“You were downstairs.”
Dario’s expression turned to ice.
“When?”
Lucia thought.
“When Mommy was working.”
She pointed at Vincent’s right hand.
“Your ring.”
We all looked.
Silver.
A wolf’s head engraved into dark metal.
“You dropped it by the elevator.”
Vincent slipped his hand into his pocket.
“Lots of people have rings.”
Lucia frowned.
“The man who took my music box had one too.”
Everything stopped.
Vincent’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But Dario saw it.
I saw it.
Marco saw it.
Dario stood despite the pain.
“Marco.”
Vincent laughed.
“Come on.”
“Search him.”
The friendliness vanished.
“Dario.”
“Search him.”
Marco moved.
Vincent stepped back.
Two security men entered.
For several seconds, nobody breathed.
Then Vincent slowly removed his hand from his pocket.
“No need.”
He placed something on the table.
A small silver key.
I recognized the pink plastic charm attached to it.
Lucia’s music box key.
My daughter screamed.
“That’s mine!”
I looked at Vincent.
“How did you get that?”
He looked at Dario instead.
“You’re making a mistake.”
Dario’s face became terrifyingly calm.
“Where is the box?”
Vincent smiled.
“You really don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“The garage.”
Dario went pale.
Vincent leaned closer.
“I wasn’t the man who attacked you.”
Then he glanced toward Lucia.
“I was the man trying to keep him from finishing the job.”
Dario’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
May you like
Vincent answered with one word.
“Your father.”
