Chapter 8 - THE BODY BENEATH WAREHOUSE SEVEN
My father’s crash had been staged.
The truck wrecked on the highway belonged to him.
The body inside did not.
According to Teresa, Thomas Carter reached Warehouse Seven alive.
He had the ledger.
Anthony followed.
There was a confrontation.
Thomas never left.
Vincent looked sick.
“You knew this too?”
“No.”
Teresa answered immediately.
“I learned years later from Mara.”
“Where is he?”
Teresa looked toward me.
“I’m sorry.”
Police obtained a warrant.
Warehouse Seven had been abandoned for fifteen years.
Concrete floor.
Rust.
Old loading bays.
Ground-penetrating radar found a void beneath the south storage area.
Human remains.
One body.
Male.
Approximate age matched.
A wedding ring survived.
My mother’s initials engraved inside.
H.C.
I sat on the warehouse floor and cried.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
Vincent stood twenty feet away.
He did not approach.
Luca sat beside me only after asking.
“Can I?”
I nodded.
He stayed.
Hours later, forensic investigators found something with Dad.
A metal case.
Inside:
Duplicate ledger pages.
A cassette recorder.
And a photograph.
Anthony.
Mara.
Paul Greco.
All standing beside a shipment truck.
Behind them:
Elena Moretti.
Alive.
Watching.
The picture had been taken six days before her death.
Then we played Dad’s second tape.
His breathing sounded fast.
“Anthony knows.”
A crash in the background.
Then:
“If Vincent finds this, tell Emily I’m sorry.”
I started crying again.
Dad continued.
“I should have left Chicago when Helen asked.”
Then another voice entered.
Anthony.
Clear.
“You should have minded your own family.”
Dad answered:
“I am.”
Then:
“Elena is family to someone.”
A struggle.
Gunshot.
The recording fell.
Footsteps.
Anthony’s voice:
“Get rid of him.”
Another man answered.
Paul Greco.
Vincent closed his eyes.
Paul helped murder my father.
Then a woman’s voice.
Mara.
“No.”
Anthony:
“Too late.”
Mara:
“I’m done.”
Anthony laughed.
“You’re done when I say.”
The tape ended.
Mara had not been his partner willingly by then.
Maybe never fully.
We needed her.
South Shore Rehabilitation.
We arrived.
Her room was empty.
Bed warm.
Window closed.
No sign of struggle.
Then a nurse said:
“Her daughter checked her out.”
Vincent frowned.
“Mara had no children.”
The nurse handed us paperwork.
Emergency contact:
EMILY CARTER.
My name.
My signature.
Forged.
Someone had used me to remove Mara.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
My mother’s voice.
Weak.
“Emily.”
I stopped breathing.
“Mom?”
“Listen to me.”
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Then:
“Mara is with me.”
I closed my eyes.
Alive.
Both.
Then Mom whispered:
“Anthony wants Vincent.”
Vincent took the phone.
“I’m here.”
My mother said:
“Good.”
May you like
Then:
“Because Anthony says if you don’t come alone, he’ll finally finish what he started with Elena.”
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