Chapter 7 - THE WIFE WHO DIED TWICE
Salvatore watched the video four times.
Each time, his face grew paler.
His wife had been dead for seven years.
But on the screen, she was alive, frightened, and trying to save him.
“What is the second assassination protocol?” I asked.
Carmine stared at the laptop.
“I've never seen that file.”
Salvatore turned toward him.
“Did Isabella know about the ambush?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she know Vincent Hale?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Carmine rubbed his face.
“Vincent was her cousin.”
I looked at Salvatore.
He seemed stunned.
“You never told me that.”
“Isabella made me promise not to. She said Vincent had a history with the family.”
“What history?”
Carmine hesitated.
“Your father.”
Salvatore's jaw tightened.
“My father died twenty years ago.”
“Before he died, he financed Vincent's medical education.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent was his son.”
I stared at Carmine.
Salvatore didn't move.
Then he said, “You're telling me Vincent Hale is our half brother?”
Carmine nodded.
“Yes.”
The revelation seemed to drain the air from the room.
Salvatore looked at the photograph of Vincent beside Carmine.
“Why hide him?”
“Because your father believed Vincent's mother had betrayed the family. He refused to acknowledge the boy.”
“And Vincent wanted revenge?”
“I think he wanted everything.”
Salvatore looked toward the video.
“Isabella knew.”
Carmine nodded.
“She found out shortly before the harbor shooting.”
I replayed the footage.
At the very end, Isabella whispered something to my father.
The audio was faint.
I increased the volume.
“Anthony, if Salvatore survives, tell him the woman in the car wasn't me.”
My heart stopped.
I replayed it.
Again.
And again.
Salvatore leaned closer.
“What woman?”
I looked at the timestamp.
Then at Isabella's face.
She was crying.
“Maybe the car accident wasn't what you were told,” I said.
Salvatore stood abruptly.
“Marco. Get me the original accident report.”
Marco made a call.
Minutes passed.
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Boss, there's a problem.”
“What?”
“The vehicle that supposedly killed Isabella was registered to Vincent Hale's hospital.”
Salvatore stared.
“And the body?”
Marco swallowed.
“The dental identification was signed by Vincent.”
I felt cold.
As a dentist, I knew how reliable dental records could be.
I also knew how easily a fraudulent comparison could be created by someone controlling both sets of records.
“Salvatore,” I whispered, “did you ever see Isabella's body?”
His answer was barely audible.
“No.”
Marco's phone rang again.
He listened.
Then slowly lowered it.
“Boss.”
Salvatore turned.
“Someone just accessed Isabella's old medical records.”
“Who?”
May you like
Marco looked directly at me.
“Dr. Lena Russo.”
