Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Put Me at Table Twelve
Rachel Pierce had spent six months bringing me coffee during double shifts, helping me carry heavy trays, and telling me I worked too hard.
Now I knew she was the daughter of the man connected to my father's death.
"Did Rachel know about the device?" I asked.
Detective Mitchell looked toward the security footage.
"We're investigating that."
My stomach tightened.
"She assigned me to Vincent's table."
"Yes."
"And she knew Caleb was my brother."
Mitchell nodded.
"According to the employment records, she knew your family background."
I felt sick.
Rachel had asked about Caleb almost every week.
She'd listened when I worried about his medical bills.
She'd offered to arrange discounted prescriptions through someone she knew.
I'd thought she was being kind.
Now every conversation felt suspicious.
"Where is she?" I asked.
"She's agreed to be interviewed."
That surprised me.
I expected her to disappear.
Instead, Rachel walked into the police station that afternoon with her attorney.
I watched through the glass as she sat across from Detective Mitchell.
Her face was pale.
Her hands trembled.
She looked nothing like the confident assistant manager who usually ran Harbor House.
Later, Mitchell explained what Rachel had said.
Rachel admitted changing the seating assignments.
She also admitted knowing someone intended to place a recording device beneath Vincent's table.
But she denied knowing about the threatening confrontation.
"Why did she do it?" I demanded.
Mitchell hesitated.
"She says her father ordered her to."
My stomach twisted.
"Dominic?"
"Yes."
"Then why use Caleb's recording?"
"She claims the recording was intended to pressure Vincent during a private meeting."
I stared.
"Pressure him into what?"
"Signing a transfer agreement involving waterfront property and shipping rights."
Vincent's company controlled several valuable parcels near the harbor.
Dominic wanted access to them.
And apparently, he believed threatening Vincent with evidence of criminal shipments would accomplish that.
But there was something Rachel hadn't expected.
Me.
I wasn't supposed to notice the device.
I wasn't supposed to warn Vincent.
And I certainly wasn't supposed to survive the evening knowing how deeply my family was connected to the scheme.
That night, Rachel called me.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered with Rebecca beside me.
"Elena?"
Her voice broke.
"I'm sorry."
I stared at the phone.
"Sorry for what?"
"For bringing you into this."
My throat tightened.
"You knew my brother was sick."
"I know."
"You knew my father died."
Rachel began crying.
"Yes."
"Then why did you help Dominic?"
A long silence followed.
"Because he's my father."
I closed my eyes.
I'd heard that excuse before.
Family.
Loyalty.
Obligation.
As though love erased responsibility.
"That doesn't make it right," I said.
"I know."
She swallowed.
"Elena, there are things about my father you don't understand."
"Then tell the police."
"I have."
I looked toward Rebecca.
She nodded.
Rachel continued.
"My father didn't start the chemical shipments."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Someone else owns the storage facilities. Dominic was managing them."
I stared.
"Who?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered, "A company called Blackwater Maritime."
The name meant nothing to me.
But Rebecca immediately opened her laptop.
Within seconds, her expression changed.
"Elena..."
I looked up.
"What?"
Blackwater Maritime was a privately held logistics company.
Its registered office was in Delaware.
Its ownership records led through several holding companies.
And one of the final companies in the chain belonged to Vincent Moretti.
Rachel began crying harder.
"Elena, my father isn't the person at the top."
May you like
She paused.
"The person who approved those shipments is someone Vincent trusts more than anyone."
