Chapter 6
My mother wanted the board meeting canceled.
Elena Park said canceling it would give Anthony exactly what he wanted.
“If Vincent fails to appear, the board can vote without him.”
“Then let them vote,” my mother said. “No company is worth my daughter’s life.”
Vincent nodded.
“She is right.”
Elena stared at him.
“Anthony gains control of the company, the trust, the security division, and every record connected to his crimes.”
“Then we fight him another way.”
“With what money? Which lawyers? Which investigators? Once he controls the trust, he will bury us in court.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do,” I said.
My mother turned toward me.
“No.”
“He wants me at the meeting because he thinks I know something.”
“You are not going.”
“What if Dr. Harris is still alive?”
“That is not your responsibility.”
“He can prove you didn’t poison Vincent.”
My mother’s eyes filled.
“And if Anthony takes you?”
“He won’t.”
“You cannot promise that.”
Frank stepped forward.
“We can secure the building.”
Detective Cole shook her head.
“Anthony owns half the guards.”
“Then I will bring my own people.”
“No private army,” Elena said. “We need a legal, public event with cameras and independent witnesses.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Sofia, what do you remember about your backpack?”
“Schoolbooks. Pencils. My lunch container.”
“Anything connected to the mansion?”
I thought carefully.
Then I remembered.
“The tablet.”
Everyone turned toward me.
“What tablet?” Detective Cole asked.
“Not medicine. My school tablet.”
My teacher had assigned us a video project about jobs in our community.
I had filmed my mother folding linens at the mansion.
I had also filmed the kitchen, the hallways, and part of the sitting room before Anthony ordered me to stop.
“Where is it now?” Frank asked.
“In the backpack.”
My mother covered her face.
“What did you record?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.”
“Anthony thinks it recorded something,” Vincent said.
That explained the threat.
He did not simply want me at the meeting.
He wanted the password.
“What is the password?” Detective Cole asked.
I hesitated.
“Do not say it here,” Frank warned.
Detective Cole frowned.
“This floor is protected.”
“So was Vincent’s mansion.”
He was right.
I wrote the password on a piece of paper and gave it to Detective Cole.
She contacted the school district.
An hour later, a technology administrator called.
My tablet automatically uploaded school projects to a cloud account whenever it connected to Wi-Fi.
There was one unfinished video from the mansion.
The police downloaded it.
We watched it on Elena’s laptop.
The video began with my mother laughing as she folded a white sheet.
She looked happy.
I had forgotten that part.
Then the camera turned toward the hallway.
I had carried the tablet against my chest, but I never stopped recording.
The picture tilted sideways.
Voices came from Vincent’s study.
Anthony and Dr. Harris.
“The dose is already too high,” Harris said.
“He moved his foot this morning,” Anthony replied.
“Then let him improve.”
“The board will never approve the transfer if he improves.”
“You said this would only last a few weeks.”
“I said you would be paid.”
The video showed the edge of the study door.
Anthony stepped into view.
He handed Dr. Harris an envelope.
Harris looked inside.
“I want double.”
“You will get nothing if Vincent speaks to Levin.”
“He keeps asking for him.”
“Then tell him Levin retired.”
“He will find out.”
Anthony moved closer.
“By Friday, it will not matter.”
A floorboard creaked beneath my foot.
Anthony looked toward the camera.
The video ended as I ran.
My mother stared at me.
“You never told me.”
“I forgot it was recording.”
Detective Cole copied the file to three secure drives.
“This proves conspiracy and medical abuse.”
“Release it now,” Vincent said.
Elena disagreed.
“If Anthony knows we have it, Harris may die.”
“If Harris is alive,” Frank said.
Detective Cole replayed the video.
“There is another voice near the end.”
She increased the volume.
After the floorboard creaked, someone inside the study whispered, “The girl.”
It was not Anthony.
It was an older voice.
Frank’s face tightened.
“Carlo Vescovi.”
The man from my grandmother’s tape had been in the mansion.
He had watched Anthony poison Vincent.
He might have planned everything.
Vincent looked at Frank.
“Find him.”
“I have been trying for twenty years.”
“Try harder.”
By Wednesday afternoon, laboratory results confirmed that the pills contained enough muscle relaxant to cause severe weakness if taken repeatedly.
The bottle in my mother’s locker had her fingerprints inside the cap, but forensic technicians found something important.
The prints had been transferred using a thin adhesive film.
Someone had copied them from another object.
The cash envelope also contained fibers from Anthony’s office carpet.
The prosecutor dropped the charges against my mother.
When the officer removed her ankle monitor, she began crying.
I thought she would hug me first.
Instead, she crossed the room and stopped beside Vincent’s bed.
“You believed me before the evidence cleared me.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I should have found you thirty-five years ago.”
“That doesn’t make you my father.”
“I know.”
“But it gives you a chance to become one.”
His eyes filled.
My mother held out her hand.
Vincent took it.
For a few seconds, the hospital room felt peaceful.
Then Frank entered.
His coat was wet from the rain.
“I found Harris.”
My mother stood.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Anthony did not take him.”
Detective Cole frowned.
“Then who did?”
“Carlo.”
Frank placed a photograph on the table.
It showed an abandoned church in Elizabeth.
“Carlo has been living beneath it for years. There are tunnels connected to an old warehouse owned by the Rinaldi trust.”
Vincent studied the photograph.
“How did you find him?”
“He wanted to be found.”
Frank placed an envelope beside it.
Inside was a note.
FRIDAY. NO POLICE. BRING VINCENT, MARIA, AND THE CHILD.
“What does he want?” I asked.
Frank looked at Vincent.
“To finish the promise he made your father.”
My mother tore the note in half.
“We are not going.”
Vincent looked at Detective Cole.
“Can you raid the church?”
“We need probable cause and a warrant.”
“The threat is probable cause.”
“The note does not say Harris is there.”
Frank removed a small voice recorder from his pocket.
“He called me.”
He pressed play.
Dr. Harris’s terrified voice filled the room.
“Vincent, I’m alive. Carlo wants the ledger. He says you know where it is.”
The recording ended.
“What ledger?” Elena asked.
Vincent’s face revealed nothing.
Frank watched him.
“You do know.”
Vincent turned toward the window.
“My father kept a record of every official he bribed, every company he stole, and every person he ordered Anthony and Carlo to remove.”
“Where is it?” Detective Cole asked.
“I burned it after he died.”
Frank shook his head.
“No, you didn’t.”
Vincent looked at him sharply.
“You told me to take it somewhere safe.”
The room became silent.
Frank reached inside his coat.
Instead of a ledger, he removed an old brass key.
“I hid it where no Rinaldi would ever think to look.”
“Where?” I asked.
Frank put the key in my hand.
“With the woman who cleaned their house.”
My mother stared at him.
“My grandmother?”
“Elena had the ledger.”
I remembered the angel medal around my mother’s neck.
The tiny silver ornament had always seemed solid.
Frank lifted it and pressed one wing.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a strip of paper bearing four numbers.
0317.
The same numbers tattooed on the masked man’s wrist.
“It is not a date,” Frank said. “It is a safe-deposit box.”
My mother looked at the brass key in my hand.
“Which bank?”
Frank’s expression became grim.
“The bank beneath Rinaldi Holdings.”
May you like
The safe was inside the building where the board would meet Friday.
And Anthony already controlled it.
