Chapter 4 - THE HOSPITAL ROOM WITH NO PATIENT
I reached Mercy Central in eighteen minutes.
Vincent’s SUV got us there faster than any taxi could.
I hated that.
I accepted it.
My mother’s room was empty.
Oxygen line on the floor.
Blanket pulled aside.
No blood.
That mattered.
I kept repeating it.
No blood.
The nurse looked terrified.
“She was here at 11:12.”
“What time did you notice?”
“11:29.”
Security footage showed a man in hospital scrubs pushing a wheelchair through a service corridor.
My mother sat inside.
Awake.
Not struggling.
That scared me more.
“She went willingly.”
Luca stood beside me.
“Maybe she knew him.”
Vincent watched the footage.
“Pause.”
The guard stopped it.
Vincent pointed at the man’s wrist.
A watch.
Old gold.
Black face.
Luca went still.
“You know it?”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“It belonged to my brother.”
I stared.
“Your brother?”
“Anthony Moretti.”
“Where is he?”
Vincent looked at me.
“Dead.”
Of course.
Apparently everyone in this story was either dead, dying, or lying about being dead.
“When?”
“Nineteen years ago.”
“How?”
“Shot.”
“Body?”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
That at least was something.
Then Luca zoomed in.
The man’s face remained hidden by a mask.
But the watch was clear.
“Could be stolen.”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s voice suggested he didn’t believe that.
A second camera showed the wheelchair entering a private ambulance bay.
The ambulance belonged to a company called Northbridge Medical Transport.
Vincent swore.
“What?”
He looked at Luca.
“Northbridge was one of Elena’s foundation contractors.”
Twenty years ago.
Still operating.
Different owners.
Or supposedly.
We pulled corporate records.
Current owner:
SILVER KEY HEALTHCARE LLC
Registered agent:
MARA VESCOVI
Vincent went completely still.
Luca saw it.
“Who is she?”
Vincent did not answer.
“Dad.”
“My sister.”
I stared.
“You have a sister too?”
“Had.”
Another dead relative.
“Let me guess. No body?”
Vincent looked at me.
“Body.”
“Great. Progress.”
Luca almost smiled again.
Vincent did not.
“Mara died in a house fire eighteen years ago.”
Northbridge was now registered under her name.
Someone was resurrecting dead Morettis on paper.
Why?
To move money without living fingerprints.
Then hospital security found something beneath my mother’s pillow.
A folded napkin.
Three words.
BLUE CABINET. BASEMENT.
I knew exactly what it meant.
My childhood home had a blue metal cabinet in the basement.
Mom kept old tax records there.
After Dad died, she never let me touch it.
We had sold the house sixteen years ago.
I looked at Vincent.
“That house still exists.”
He nodded.
“We go.”
“No guns.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“You’re getting ambitious.”
“If my mother left that message, she expects me to find something.”
“And if someone is waiting?”
“Police.”
Vincent looked offended.
Luca said:
“She’s right.”
Vincent stared at his son.
Then at me.
“Fine.”
We contacted detectives already involved in the abduction.
The old house stood empty under foreclosure.
Police entered first.
Basement clear.
The blue cabinet remained.
Rusty.
Locked.
I remembered where Mom kept the key.
Inside the furnace vent.
Still there.
The cabinet opened.
Nothing but papers.
Old receipts.
Photos.
Then I found a false metal bottom.
Under it sat a ledger.
And one cassette tape.
Label:
FOR VINCENT - IF THOMAS DIES.
Thomas.
My father.
Vincent stared at the tape.
“He made this.”
We found an old player upstairs.
My father’s voice crackled through static.
“Vincent, if you’re hearing this, then I failed.”
I started crying.
Then Dad said:
“Emily’s mother did not steal from Elena.”
May you like
Vincent closed his eyes.
“I did.”
