Chapter 5 - THE FATHER WHO WANTED HIS SON DEAD
Victor left the facility without speaking.
I found him in the parking garage.
He stood beside his car with both hands on the roof.
For once, the man who terrified half of New York looked lost.
“My father tried to kill me.”
“We don’t know that.”
“My father paid Carlo.”
“We don’t know why.”
He laughed once.
Bitterly.
“You’re very generous with dead men.”
“I’m cautious with broken evidence.”
Victor turned.
“My mother is dead. My father is dead. Carlo may be alive. Your mother was there. Mia witnessed something. How much more evidence do you need?”
“The kind that doesn’t come from a woman recovering from a stroke.”
His anger flashed.
Then disappeared.
“You’re right.”
I hated how quickly that softened me.
Victor opened the passenger door.
“Get in.”
“That sounded like an order.”
“Please get in.”
Better.
We drove back to the estate.
Marco had already pulled old financial records.
The payment existed.
Three hundred thousand dollars.
Victor’s father had transferred it to a company controlled by Carlo eleven days before the bombing.
But the memo line changed everything.
Security extraction - V.R.
Victor Romano.
Victor stared.
“Extraction.”
“Maybe your father paid Carlo to protect you.”
“Then why the bomb?”
“Maybe Carlo betrayed him.”
Marco entered with another discovery.
A recorded phone call.
Victor’s father had saved it inside an encrypted account.
The audio was damaged, but one voice was clear.
His father.
Get Victor out before Sunday. I don’t care what it costs.
Then Carlo:
And if he refuses?
Make him leave.
Victor sat slowly.
His father had not ordered his death.
He had known someone was coming for him.
The relief lasted less than thirty seconds.
Because the second half of the recording included another voice.
Female.
Victor’s mother.
You cannot keep hiding this from him.
Then his father:
If Victor learns who really controls the docks, he’ll start a war he cannot survive.
Carlo answered:
Then let him believe it’s me.
Victor looked at Marco.
“Who really controlled the docks?”
Marco shook his head.
“Your father did.”
“Apparently not.”
We searched records until after midnight.
At 1:05 A.M., Mia appeared in the office doorway.
She carried a child’s drawing.
Three stick figures.
A red car.
Fire.
A tall man.
And a woman in a blue coat.
I looked closer.
The woman was holding Mia’s hand.
“Who is she?”
Mia’s face changed.
Victor came closer.
“Was she there?”
Mia nodded.
Then she pointed to the woman.
I expected a name.
Instead, she pointed at me.
I frowned.
“Me?”
Mia shook her head.
Then pointed at my face.
My hair.
My eyes.
Someone who looked like me.
Victor whispered:
“Rebecca.”
I shook my head.
“My mother never wore blue.”
Mia pointed harder.
Then took a pencil and wrote two shaky letters beneath the woman.
HB
My blood ran cold.
Those were not my mother’s initials.
They were mine.
Hannah Brooks.
But I had never been at the estate before eleven days ago.
Victor stared at the drawing.
May you like
Then at me.
“Who else in your family has your name?”
