Chapter 1 - THE KEY HE LEFT IN MY HAND
The object Arthur Costello pulled from his pocket was not a gun.
It was a small brass key attached to a bloodstained silver chain.
And the moment I saw the initials engraved into the metal, my entire body went cold.
D.H.
Daniel Hayes.
My father's name.
Arthur watched my expression change.
"You recognize it."
I couldn't speak.
Three years earlier, my father had died in a private hospital outside Chicago, leaving me with fifty-eight thousand dollars in medical debt and a cardboard box of belongings.
Everything he'd owned fit inside that box.
Except one thing.
The brass key he wore around his neck.
The hospital told me it had been lost.
Now it was in the hand of the most feared mafia boss in Chicago.
"Where did you get that?" I whispered.
Arthur looked down at the key.
"From the man I killed last night."
My stomach dropped.
"Who?"
He hesitated.
"Samuel Voss."
I knew the name.
Everyone in Chicago did.
Samuel Voss had been Arthur's oldest friend and the former head of security for the Costello organization.
Rumors said he'd disappeared from public life after a terrible disagreement with Arthur.
Now he was dead.
And somehow, he had been carrying my father's key.
Arthur studied me.
"Daniel Hayes was your father?"
I nodded.
Something strange crossed his face.
Recognition.
Then regret.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
I gave a bitter laugh.
"Because I'm the maid, Mr. Costello. Nobody asks about my family."
He looked away.
For several seconds, the only sound was the boiler rattling behind the wall.
Then Arthur placed the key on my little bedside table.
"I think this belongs to you."
I stared.
"Why?"
"Because Samuel told me to give it to Daniel's daughter."
My heart pounded.
"He knew me?"
Arthur nodded.
"Apparently."
I reached toward the key, then stopped.
"What does it open?"
Arthur's expression darkened.
"I don't know."
I didn't believe him.
He noticed.
Then he said something that made the basement room feel suddenly smaller.
"Samuel told me that your father didn't die from natural causes."
I froze.
"My father had heart failure."
"That's what the records say."
My hands began trembling.
Arthur continued.
"Samuel believed those records were falsified."
I felt sick.
For three years, I'd blamed myself for not finding better medical care.
For not earning enough money.
For being twenty-three and helpless while my father faded away in a hospital bed.
Now this man was suggesting something worse.
"Who would want to hurt my father?"
Arthur looked toward the door.
"I don't know yet."
I stared.
"Then why are you here?"
He took a breath.
"Because Samuel tried to kill me last night."
My blood ran cold.
Arthur continued.
"He came to a meeting carrying evidence that someone inside my organization had been stealing money and arranging killings."
"Then why did you kill him?"
Arthur's eyes filled with something I hadn't expected.
Shame.
"He reached for a weapon during the confrontation. I fired because I believed he was going to shoot me."
He looked down.
"But after he fell, I found this key."
I swallowed.
"And?"
"He was trying to take a memory card from his jacket."
The room went silent.
Arthur reached into his pocket again.
A tiny black storage card rested between his fingers.
My heart hammered.
"What is that?"
"I haven't looked at it."
I stared.
"Why not?"
Arthur gave a bitter laugh.
"Because Samuel's last words were about you."
My stomach tightened.
"What did he say?"
Arthur looked directly into my eyes.
May you like
Then whispered:
"He said, 'If you want to know who destroyed your family, ask the girl cleaning your floors why her father was afraid of your mother.'"
