Chapter 2 - The Debt Written in Blood
The first thing Anna noticed was that the driver had locked the doors.
The second was the pistol beneath his jacket.
She set the Scotch on the center console.
"Unlock the car."
Elias looked at her.
"Anna—"
"Now."
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Elias leaned forward.
"Marco. Unlock the doors."
A soft click broke the silence.
Anna reached for the handle.
"You can leave," Elias said. "But before you do, there's something you should know about your father's death."
Her hand stopped.
Outside, rain crawled down the tinted windows, turning Boston's streetlights into streaks of gold.
"My father died of pancreatic cancer."
"I know."
"Then don't use him to frighten me."
"I'm not."
Elias reached inside his coat.
Anna stiffened.
He withdrew a folded photograph.
He placed it between them.
It showed her father, Thomas Harding, standing outside the bakery beside a younger Elias. Thomas had one arm around the man's shoulders. Both were smiling.
Anna picked it up.
Her father looked healthy. Younger. Happy.
The photograph had been taken at least fifteen years earlier.
"Where did you get this?"
"Your father gave it to me."
"Why?"
"Because he saved my life."
Anna looked up.
Elias removed his sunglasses, revealing dark eyes that seemed older than the rest of his face.
"When I was twenty-two, I made a decision that should have gotten me killed. I refused to carry out an order against an innocent family. The men who gave that order weren't forgiving."
"What kind of order?"
Elias watched her carefully.
"The kind you don't discuss in a bakery."
Anna felt her stomach tighten.
"You're a criminal."
"I've been called worse."
"That's not an answer."
"No," he admitted. "It isn't."
Marco glanced at them through the rearview mirror.
Elias continued.
"Your father found me bleeding behind his delivery entrance. Two gunshot wounds. No identification. He should have called the police and walked away."
"But he didn't."
"He carried me upstairs, called a doctor he trusted, and let me recover in his apartment."
Anna looked at the photograph again.
Thomas had never told her this story.
"He hid you?"
"For eleven days."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he believed a man deserved the chance to become better than his worst decision."
Elias's voice changed slightly.
It was the first warmth Anna had heard from him.
"Your father was the only person who helped me without asking what he could get in return."
Anna swallowed.
"And now you think buying me a drink settles the debt?"
"No."
Elias took a second document from his coat.
It was a photocopy of a bank transfer.
Anna recognized her father's business account number.
The transaction was dated seven months earlier.
$480,000.
Transferred to an unfamiliar holding company.
"What's this?"
"Money removed from Harding's Bakery before your father entered hospice."
Anna stared.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"We never had that much money."
"You did."
Elias pointed to the date.
"Your father refinanced the building eighteen months ago. He was told the money would pay for equipment upgrades and medical expenses."
Anna remembered the arguments.
Her father had complained that the bakery's finances no longer made sense. Beatrice had insisted he was confused because of his medication.
"Beatrice handled the accounts," Anna whispered.
"Exactly."
Elias leaned back.
"Three weeks before your father's death, he contacted me. He believed someone was stealing from the business."
"Then why didn't you stop her?"
The question came out sharper than Anna intended.
For the first time, Elias looked away.
"Because I arrived too late."
Silence filled the car.
Anna studied the transaction.
"Where did the money go?"
"SunCorp Developers."
Her eyes widened.
"The company buying our building?"
"The same."
Anna felt something cold settle beneath her ribs.
"Beatrice stole our money and used it to buy our property?"
"That's one possibility. We haven't established the full chain."
"Then what have you established?"
Elias's expression hardened.
"That SunCorp is connected to a man named Victor Sloane."
Marco's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Anna noticed.
"Who is he?"
"A man who launders money through real estate, intimidates business owners, and makes problems disappear."
"Why would he want our bakery?"
"That's what I intend to find out."
Anna stared through the windshield.
Her entire life had collapsed in less than an hour.
And now a stranger was telling her that her father's death might be connected to organized crime.
She wanted to scream.
Instead, she asked the only question that mattered.
"Can I get the bakery back?"
Elias considered her.
"Possibly. But not by threatening your stepmother."
"What do you suggest?"
"An attorney. A forensic accountant. And proof."
Anna gave a humorless laugh.
"I have thirty-two dollars."
"Then consider my help an old debt."
"I don't want charity."
"Good. I'm not offering charity."
He handed her a business card.
There was no company name.
Only a telephone number.
"I can arrange somewhere safe for you to stay tonight. Tomorrow, you meet an independent attorney. She works for you, not me."
Anna turned the card over.
"What's the catch?"
"You're going to have to trust someone."
"I barely know you."
"Then don't trust me yet."
The honesty surprised her.
"Trust the documents."
Marco's phone vibrated.
He answered through the car's hands-free system.
A man's voice filled the cabin.
"Boss, we've got a problem."
Elias's expression changed.
"What happened?"
"Someone entered Harding's Bakery ten minutes after the girl left."
Anna leaned forward.
"Beatrice?"
"No, sir. Two men. They disabled the security cameras and went straight upstairs."
Anna's heart slammed against her ribs.
"My apartment."
The voice continued.
"They're searching the bedroom."
Elias reached for his phone.
"Get surveillance on both exits. Nobody engages unless there's an immediate threat."
Anna grabbed his sleeve.
"My father's things are up there."
"I know."
"His journals. His photographs. Everything."
Elias turned toward her.
"Anna, listen carefully. Did your father leave you anything unusual before he died?"
She shook her head.
Then stopped.
Three days before his death, Thomas had pressed a small brass key into her palm.
He had been weak, barely able to speak.
"Keep this somewhere safe, sweetheart."
She had assumed it belonged to an old storage cabinet.
She had attached it to her necklace.
Her hand moved instinctively toward her collar.
Elias noticed.
"What is it?"
Anna pulled the chain from beneath her shirt.
The little brass key glinted beneath the car's interior light.
"My father gave me this."
Elias went completely still.
"Where did he say it belonged?"
"He didn't."
Elias took out his phone.
"Marco. Drive."
"Where, boss?"
"Back to the bakery."
Anna stared at him.
"Why?"
Elias looked at the key again.
"Because your father once told me that if anything happened to him, the truth would be waiting behind a door only his daughter could open."
Anna's fingers tightened around the brass.
"And what truth is that?"
May you like
Elias's jaw flexed.
"The truth about why someone wanted him dead."
